#EDIT: how could I forget his cute freckle ?!? that was the whole point !!

[albino-whumpee]

On those quiet moments

As part of the editing, I decided to put 3 chapters into this one, collecting Sann´s experience at Zarai´s and how his relationship with Albus gets more intimate. Hope you enjoy it! (the first one requested by @liliability the second is inspired by this post by @whump-galaxy and the third one was requested by anon)

Taglist:  @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread@starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump  @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @twistedcaretaker

Ok, god, this has been so so long in my drafts I´m so sorry.

I wanted to make something cute for this, I really tried, but Sann is opening up to me with a lot of dark stuff, so I will kind of share some of it? Hope you like it~

CW// Dehumanization, pet whump, creepy whumper, trauma recovery, collars, mental games, past noncon and dubcon touching, conditioning muzzles, conditioning, emotional whump, slight spice, mentioned past torture, scars, identity issues and trauma survivor navigating consent and relationships. Ask to tag! 

“Sann” the boy whispered to himself inside the crate he had arrived to the Glass mansion “Sann. My name´s Sann” he said to himself over and over as he tried to keep his mind away from the cold, from the pain of the bruises and beatings and the smell of other people. “Sann…”

His name was the first thing his Master gave him. Then the collar around his neck. A soft black leather band with golden buckles.

It meant Sann was his, and he had the right to do whatever he wanted to him.

Sann had expected to have his name called sweetly, gently pulled to his chest and be rewarded for his services. But his wishes were nobody´s concerns. Neither his comfort nor his happiness.

He was Robert Glass´s Romantic and he would obey his every whim.

He would stay put when he ordered him to. Watch how he took out his knife, or the belts, or the cane and the handcuffs and he would extend his wrists out and let him mark his body as he wished.

He would scream and shiver when he put the shock collar and slipped on the hood before leaving him tied in the basement for hours or even days, when he got sick of seeing his face.

He would go when he was called and smile when he ordered him to. He would take the beatings, the whipping and the tight ropes holding him in place for hours until his Master came to untie him and laugh when he plummeted to the ground made a shivering, crying mess behind the hood.

Despite all of it, he still held his hand, despite every second of screaming and begging, and rubbed raw wrists and ankles, he still called him Sirius sometimes.

Sometimes, when he wasn´t Sann, he would be kind. Sometimes, when they were alone on their way to another place, in the dark above the clouds, he would free him from his tight bindings. He would gently unbuckle the muzzle on his face and pull him up his lap to sooth his wedges and cuts and all the burns in his body.

“Quiet” the man would say as his stroke his cheek and slipped his hand down his thin shirt. Down his pants.

Sann would never admit now, sitting comfortably next to Al, head resting on his chest or chin on his shoulders, getting drunk in the fragrance of safety the albino induced, how Robert´s lips against his skin gave him goosebumps. How the man´s gentle shushing and hands felt like, when he played the game his father bought Sann for.

In the morning, he would be tied and muzzled all over again. However, when he got one second of solitude, Sann would pass his fingers over his lips. Wondering, if they could reach a point where the brusqueness of Sann´s kisses could be put aside for the gentleness of Sirius´s.

How much he had desired Robert to call him by the name of the person he longed for again, kissed the corner of his mouth and the tattooed lunars on his neck with affection Sann was forbidden from, and how earnestly, he had tried to keep him playing, to taste a little bit of the real love the man had to give, was his deepest secret.

It had been such a fierce desire, yet the dream cracked and crumbled when he took his voice.

By the time his Master took him to Zarai´s Christmas party and he met Albus, he had completely given up on getting kissed with love again.

It was slow, it took a while to stare at Albus with his shyness and odd ways of putting a smile on his face or tend invisible wounds he soothed with his presence alone, so the desire could ignite on his chest. Not the artificial warmth of letting his mind slip into the safety of his programming, but allow Sann, himself, to touch that flame and not burn on it.

Until one day, after Albus and Ma´am came from work, vibrating from accomplishment and pride, his happiness bled into him and Sann kissed him. He had seen how his face turned completely red but ended melting in his lips.

He wasn´t always sure if he was allowed to feel it as Sann, but with Albus, he didn´t have to whisper someone else´s name to hope there would be no pain later.

Being Sann was enough to be loved.

--

“I told you I´m not an artist” Sann said as Albus giggled at his fake, badly drawn mustache on the mirror.

They were once again alone at home, their owners going out for the weekend meant they had the house all to themselves and keys to go outside if they wished to. Sann had spent the whole weekend trying to teach Albus how to swim and laughing at his childish splashing. After so much time under the sun, a massive amount of freckles and small rashes had sprouted on their burnt skin, hence why they had rested the last day before their owners came back and applied sunscreen and cream on each other´s back before laying down in the couch. 

In Albus´ teasing about the new freckles in the other´s back, Sann had picked up the pen they had been using for an hour now to paint on each other´s skin.

“What do you say? Should I let one grow?” The other said looking at himself side by side. Sann stared at him for a long moment. In all the time since he had become Zarai´s property, he had never seen him use a razor.

“Can you?” he asked finally after a moment.

“Possibly not” he giggled taking the pen they had been using to doodle over their faces “But you would look handsome with a beard, should we try see?”

Sann shook his head as he swooshed away the other boy´s hands, unable to stop the smile on his face. Would he? His Master never let it grow, after all.

“Ok, ok. Give me your hand” Albus said extending his arm with a pen on the other. The taller boy looked at his hand and then at him, arching an eyebrow. “C´mon, it´s nothing bad, I swear” he flashed a little smile at him.

Sann put his hand on his, puzzled at the way the other watched and traced the burns and cuts extending all the way from the back of his hand to his forearm, more underneath the flamingo shirt he was wearing then. Webs of them hid from the view below his clothes when it was a “don´t wanna show” day.

His fingers ghosted the diagonal lines on his wrists and moved to the circular, old scars of cigarette burns, before doing that flip with his pen to settle it over his skin.

“Would you like something in particular?” Albus asked looking up at him through his lashes. White like the rest of him, hiding that beautiful gleam of red. Sann made a vague gesture as if saying go ahead and surprise him.

Albus was careful to not put too much pressure and the pen´s ink was cold, but after a while, he could find it almost soothing. Even better for Sann as he couldn´t get bored of seeing the other stick his tongue out just like every time he got completely focused.

“There, look” The other told him suddenly, just as his eyes went down to find the burns with blue lines that made them look like meteors, a few of the cuts made to look like an alien ship flying by, his own freckles made to look like stars, connected to other freckles with a pointed line. Right on the back of his hand, there was a telescope.

Sann passed his fingers over them with widened eyes and then his expression softened. Never thinking he would like to see the scars over his skin. He was not afraid of showing them, he didn´t care anymore, but he never thought they could be pretty to look at.

“Can you do the other?” Sann asked him with a warm feeling extending over his chest.

“If you let me paint a beard”

“Forget it”

“Oh, c´mon!” Albus laughed.

--

Being Zarai´s came with perks he would have called luxuries with his Master. A soft bed to sleep in where he wouldn´t be woken up to be dragged up the mattress and then tightly tied face down with his ass up in the middle of the night. That wouldn´t happen. He could sleep tangled up with Albus and he could be sure he wouldn’t wake up with an unusual pain in the back of his throat, but instead he would be woke up when the albino tried to leave the bed as silently as possible, but when he failed and Sann clung to his shirt, the albino would greet him with a kiss in his forehead and a whispered “good morning”.

Sann spent most of his time alone at the house. Carrying the three legged cat all around the house as he searched for things to do. He could swim at the pool and step out of the house whenever he wanted. He even had access to the TV, laptop and all the books at the studio. He had so much freedom suddenly, at the beginning he had knelt in the middle of the house and waited. Expecting it to be a game where Zarai would appear out of nowhere to punish him for his incredulity. He had rather play it safe. But a few months later, the scared boy was curled up in the sofa watching videos about how to build a hinge for a prosthetic leg for the cat purring in his lap. He still had the habit to look around every few minutes just to make sure nobody would come to hit him.

It had been a reflex to scrunch his eyes when Zarai pulled her hand up behind him one night. The woman and the albino were working in another project together and had stayed working until deep into the night. Sann had taken that time to make them company in the living room working on the latex prosthetic and was so focused on it, he hadn´t noticed it was already past three when Zarai tried to touch him.

He knew she wasn´t the type to hit her pets, he knew it and yet his breathing still got cut short when she called for him and the only thing he saw was her hand growing closer. He hadn´t even noticed he had put his arms around his head defensively until she called for him again.

“Sann?” she asked, gently pulling his arms away to see his terrified face. “I´m sorry, I didn´t mean to scare you” she said as the boy pulled his arms down slowly to sign sorry while shaking his head. “It´s kind of late already and my assistant is taking a break” she said nodding at the boy peacefully sleeping with his arms over the dining table with a blanket draped over his shoulders. “I´ll be working a bit longer, but I´ll need some help. Could you give me a hand, Sann?”

The pet´s eyes widened at her before giving a hesitating nod. After a while, Sann was sitting in the ground working on the spreadsheets scattered in the coffee table while Zarai revised her part of the work when Sann felt something fuzzy covering his shoulders. When he turned to see her, clinging to the blanket, the woman looked at him for a moment before slowly pulling her hand up to his hair. The boy flinched away slightly, but as her fingers ran through his hair smoothly, the boy let his defenses down one stroke at a time. Each stroke a little closer, making him a little less stiff, until finally, he leaned into her hand with closed eyes when she cupped his face in her hand.

For a second he doubted if he needed to go further, if it was necessary for him to show eagerness but after a second she simply went back to her work, her hand going back to her lap not looking for anything else to happen. In fact, the next time she touched him, it was only to put the slipping blanket back over his shoulders.

It was a warmth he had never had so freely given at Robert Glass´ mansion.

At his Master’s house, he would sit idly by the bed and wait for the guest to come inside the room, just as ordered. His knees were callous with how much he knelt, but his body still resisted to get used to the cold when wearing just the black leather harness and collar while waiting.

The first time he had serviced another person that wasn’t his Master by his orders, his heart thrummed on his ears like a war band. It had been with many people watching, many of who he had pleased right after the other. He had pleaded in vain, made them laugh when he begged to be forgiven and reserved to only his Master. His heart had raced and lost strength over and over, so many times now, that in the silence of the guest room on those nights he waited for the guest to come inside, it was calm.

A firm rhythm that stuttered whenever he heard steps outside. That smothered when they went away and beat with renewed strength, when the door opened to a face he hadn’t seen before, yet looked amused and pleased when they stared down at him.

His mind wondered sometimes, if the albino would ever look at him that way, but the thought quickly vanished.

There was one night he fled to the studio when nightmares came for him -Of past games his Master played with him and he had no chance of winning, nor of escaping the punishment for losing- when he knelt next to the couch and woke him up with ragged sobs and face filled with tears. The albino had rushed to straighten up and sat on the ground with him, allowing him to bury his face on his chest and cry.

After he had dried himself of tears to shed, when his cheeks were red and his eyes hurt from the strain on his head, he realized the thundering thrum of his heartbeat would be quiet.

Being held was a privilege back then, but with him, it was not earned by winning a game. Nor was expected to make his heart race all over again when sleeping together.

It was strange…a placebo, maybe, to have a pillow that prevented him from slipping his hand below the other boy´s waistband when training took over his judgement. It was a rule to have it between them if Albus was going to start sleeping with him and he was definitely trying his best to keep it that way, getting used to it was quick.

But after so many nights of being woken up to collect Sann on his arms, Albus was exhausted. He had forgotten to put the pillow between them and Sann had to shake him awake a few times so he could change and slip inside the bed. Still, he had an arm over his waist.

Sann´s heart picked up when Albus pressed himself against him. Feeling his face nuzzling against his back just making it drum harder. He could feel him so well, yet, he didn´t dare to move at all. He couldn´t even hear him over the loud ba-thump, ba-thump reverberating on his head.

The shock on those red eyes, cowering on the edge of the bed was something he never wanted to see again.

So when he jolted at the other´s half asleep groan, afraid he had moved, only to notice he was trying to retrieve the arm he was crushing underneath him, he giggled wryly.

He could hear his heart get quieter as the albino retrieved his arm, most probably numbed out, with half opened eyes, he brushed his cheek with his other hand and mumbled a thanks under his breath before going back to sleep.

Sann then tried to follow, taking his hand on his own and curling around it like a cat. Effectively stopping the wild drumming on his ears that become, ever so slowly, a soft murmur that melted with the sound of soft breathing.

#writing #whump #bbu #box boy #pet whump #you came back a stranger #tw slavery #tw dehumanization #robert #fluff #sann #albus #trauma survivors navigating relationships #deconditioning #emotional whump #multiple whumpees #mute whumpee #creepy whumper #tw past noncon #tw dubcon #tw dubcon touching #trauma response #tw conditioning #collars #muzzles #slight spice #mentioned past torture #scars #trauma survivors navigating spice #trauma recovery whump

[when-are-you-coming-back-steve]

Why am I doing this? I blame Ash /j

Not edited because this thing doesn't deserve anymore effort

Thomas x Steve the Pimple | Childhood friends to lovers au | Modern AU

Thomas met Steve when he was young. They were both young, childhood innocence flowing out of both of them. They quickly became friends, when they hung out it was hard to separate them. Steve always dazzled him, his fiery red hair and his soft brown eyes, his stubbornness. They were one of the most stubborn people Thomas had ever met, you could rarely get him to give something up once he put his mind to it. And if you do convince him to tends to come back to it at one point. It was both the most annoying part of them and the reason they were still friends.

Both Thomas' and Steve's families moved many times throughout their lives. Steve moved more than Thomas ever did but Thomas did his fair share of it. No matter where they both went and did nothing stopped them from being friends.

It had been a year since he's seen his best friend. Today they were supposed to meet so they could find an apartment in Florida. They could never shake eachother so the two decided to move in together to split the rent and continue being the constant in eachothers lives.

Thomas was waiting in the airport, rocking on his heels for Steve to get off the plane. People walked off with suitcases some alone and some to friends and family. Thomas leaned on his tip toes to hopefully spot the patch of red hair. The sea of heads didn't show Steve until he looked towards the side and saw a young man and oh. Steve's hair was still as red as always with brown eyes and his soft cheekbones.

Steve spotted him as well, smiling and waving. No longer frozen in his spot Thomas ran towards his friend ignoring the the thoughts in his mind Their smile was so cute though. The two meet and hugged.

"Thomas! I missed you man. How are you?"

"I'm great, super excited. How are you? You look different." Thomas pulled away.

Steve laughed, "Yeah, a year brought some growing for both of us. Look at you! You're looking great."

Thomas blushed and laughed. They began talking about everything and nothing as they left the airport ready to begin this new journey.

They got a nice apartment. Two rooms, one bath. A nice kitchen and a nice living room. It was great. Currently they were sitting on the couch watching Steven Universe. Well more like cuddling, Steve was very much someone that liked touch. Steve turned towards Thomas a little, "Hey Thomas?"

Thomas hummed in question.

"I think I might be bi. Or maybe pan, I don't know."

It wasn't a big deal. They had both come out to eachother before. For some reason something turned in his chest when Thomas heard this though. He tried to ignore it and just smiled and replied, "That's great! I'm happy for you."

Steve pulled out his stupidly sweet smile that melted Thomas everytime, "Thanks, love you man."

"I love you too."

Thomas found himself staring at his friend a few times at home. He's been looking at Steve his whole life, he doesn't know why he's taking extra time to look now. Steve was baking something in the oven while Thomas sat at the table. They had some water boiling on the stove, despite living in Florida Steve had been complaining it was too dry. Steve always like humidity, drawn to the warm vapor. A been went off and Steve pulled out oven mitts and threw a towel over his shoulder before leaning down to grab the baked goods and Oh.

Oh.

Oh no. Thomas fought the blush on his face as he realized what it was. Steve threw a smile back and Thomas melted and oh god Thomas is smitten isn't he. Of course Thomas had to go and fall in love with his childhood friend now roommate. Lord help him.

Steve was laying on Thomas, the latter tracing triangles with the formers freckles. Thry had been there for a good while, just vibing in silence. It has been a few months since Thomas came to his realization. It was terrifying. He didn't want anything to hurt what he had now but he didn't know if he could hold it in anymore. He must has been getting tense because Steve perked up, "You good Thomathy?"

Thomas hesitated. He was scared but should he be? It was Steve. He couldn't get rid of him after 30 years, would he break at a crush? Steve began to frown at his hesitation, "Hey, you know you could tell me anything right?"

Thomas tried to throw a small smile, "Yeah, yeah I know. I...actually there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."

"Go on ahead man."

Thomas fidgeted trying to decide how to say this, "Listen I... I figured something out a little while ago and I'm kinda scared to tell you but I don't know if I can keep a secret from you anymore."

"Yeah?" Steve's brows were knit in concern.

"Well it's just.. well I like you. Like as more than a friend. In romantic way. And its totally fine if you don't feel the same way or even feel uncomfortable. Its fine if you wanna forget this conversation even happened-"

Steve noticed his rambling and took his hand, "Thomas you idiot. Its okay. Its fine. I mean its more than fine. I.." He looked down at their hands intertwined, "I didn't know you felt the same way."

Thomas' stomach did a backflip, "The same?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I've been in love with you for a while now. I didn't want to scare you and possibly loose you. God if I had known I would have asked you out in a heartbeat."

Thomas brought a water smile, "You're welcome to do it now."

Steve huffed a laugh, "Yeah, yeah. Thomas..Thomas would you make the the happiest man and be my boyfriend?"

"Yeah, yes. I would love that. I love it. I love you."

"I love you too."

#steve the pimple #thomas sanders #Thomas x Steve #thomas x pimple steve #childhood friends to lovers #human!Steve #drabble #If anyone could just end me now that would be appreciated /j

[xyliane]

AUgust 7: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS 12 YEAR OLD

PROMPT THE SEVENTH: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS wait how can you childhood friends au killugon, I asked myself, forgetting that I had a whole-ass idea in my drafts already. this one’s a proper fic, too (minus editing cuz l o l it’s an AU writing challenge, not editing challenge). T, aged-up killugon, modern day au. ft ambiguous descriptions of social media, alluka, kalluto, and leorio in killua’s corner, and zushi and spinner in gon’s, brief discussion of getting plastered and dealing with a hangover. 5000 words.

0o0o0o0o0

The first sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when Killua wakes up with a hangover.

This does not happen. Killua can count on one hand the number of times he’s gotten so drunk he’s had a hangover, and most of them are the fault of his little siblings. Little siblings who are now living together, whose couch he is currently painfully existing upon, half too hot and his toes way too cold. And the couch is too soft, an old secondhand thing he’d helped Alluka grapple up the stairs months ago after they found it outside an old dorm. He makes a notch in his very sore brain to blame the current situation on them. Kalluto might be kind enough to let a drunk big brother crash with them, but Alluka has a devious streak a mile wide.

Yeah. This is definitely their fault.

One eye slowly creaks open, surveying his surroundings through blurry vision. Nothing out of the ordinary here. He’s in the pajamas he’s left with Alluka forever ago, curled up under an old blanket he gave her for Nanika’s birthday. It’s covered in the Matrix code, all green letters on black wool. It barely covers him from chest to knees, which explains the cold toes.

Sunlight flickers through the curtains, cheerful and bright, and Killua pulls the blanket over his face. He’ll take cold toes over being blinded by his headache.

The second sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when a noise like a chainsaw burrowing through a marshmallow erupts from his phone buzzing on the coffee table, just barely out of reach.

Killua attempts to bury himself under the blanket. He’s not dealing with work today.

And then he remembers: He doesn’t have work. Work can’t bother him today. Not just because it’s a weekend—work never respected the sanctity of weekends, no matter that he was at least partially in charge and used to have a fancy degree hanging on his wall. He doesn’t have work anymore. Killua quit.

Which, well. That explains the hangover.

He’s still blaming his siblings.

His phone buzzes loud enough to break the sound barrier, and Killua decides, fuck it. He doesn’t have anything to lose. If it’s the-place-formerly-known-as-work, he can delete everything. If it’s Mom or Father, he can definitely delete everything. And maybe it’s a friendly person, congratulating him on giving up a job that for anyone else would have been an absolute money-making dream. He’ll delete those too.

It takes a few tries to unlock his phone, and it unfortunately involves opening his eyes, squinting against the glaring light of the screen. But once he does, he frowns. Maybe he’s seeing double. Or a hundredfold. Because he should not have this many notifications.

awwww cute, i hope u 2 find each other! the top one says. It has several hundred likes. Why is it in his notifications?

Scrolling down reveals that it’s not an anomaly.

wtf man how can you find a TWELVE YEAR OLD from FIFTEEN YEARS AGO.

Me and my mom went on a cruise around there once, it was really pretty!

this is so sweet T__T maybe this is him?

And then another hundred photos of brown-skinned men with varying degrees of shirt-wearing, all black haired and most of them buff in very appealing ways and all of them beaming at Killua.

“What the fuck,” Killua croaks as he scrolls through all of the images and messages. Maybe this is a dream. A really weird, hangover-induced dream about how little of a social life he has, that his phone is possessed by someone else’s. A warning of sorts, that he should never have installed any social media on his phone ever, not even for hookups.

The reason for all the notifications lies at the top of his own page. Just a few sentences, all-caps, with an image of an old crinkled photo of two boys on a tropical beach, grinning at the camera. Killua sees himself, white curly hair flying in all directions and pale skin sunburned and ruddy with the briny wind, happier than Killua can ever remember being. Next to him, one arm slung around his shoulders and the other holding a bucket full of seashells, is a brown-skinned boy with freckles dancing across his nose and the tops of his shoulders, brown eyes wide and laughing and black hair thick and spiked from some mix of wind and seawater and natural gravity defiance.

He didn’t know he still had this photo. It had followed him from childhood all the way through grad school, a carefully guarded keepsake hidden away from the watchful eyes of his parents and Illumi, before ending up in a box or a bag at some point in the last few years. Part of Killua thought he’d lost it in the move. He barely remembers much about being twelve, about the cruise he’d been forcibly dragged on. But he remembers…

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY? yells the caption. WE WERE BEST FRIENDS FOR A WEEK WHEN I GOT DRAGGED ON A CRUISE BY MY ASSHOLE PARENTS. HE WAS 12 ON WHALE ISLAND 15 YEARS AGO. IF FOUND, DM IMMEDIATELY.

“Gon,” Killua breathes.

He gathers himself, wrapping the blanket around his head in a feeble protection against the morning, and lurches over to Alluka’s room.

He gets to bang on her door three times, confused spite winning out over his own pounding headache, before Kalluto appears out of their room, blinking blearily at Killua. “Shut up.”

Killua kicks Alluka’s door for good measure, and brandishes his phone in front of him like a weapon. “Not until you explain what the hell this is doing on the internet.”

Kalluto pales, then flushes, then pales again. “Oh. Um.”

At that, Alluka creaks her door open, guilty blue eyes far too awake for how close to noon it is. Killua kind of wants to kill her on principle alone. If he has to be hungover, so does everyone else.

“Explain,” he grinds out through his teeth.

The third and final sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when Alluka puts on her most winning smile, the kind she uses to ward off angry customers and idiotic faux-academics on the internet. “Congratulations, Brother! I might have made you go viral.”

Killua throws his phone at her.

—————

Today’s going to be a good day, Gon decides. He’s been in the forests of East Gorteau for the better part of a month, which normally isn’t so bad. But this group has been…They’re nice enough, when Gon’s not spending half of his time explaining that, no, that species of plant does not make a good stew, and no, that species is endangered please don’t hunt them, and yes Gon is sure he doesn’t date his clients even after the hike, and no the reason the tent fell over again is because it wasn’t properly set up in the first place—

All of Aunt Mito’s complaints about tourists on Whale Island make so much more sense, now that Gon’s leading backwoods hikes.

But last night had been fun! Spinner had met the group at a pre-set campsite not far from their pickup so Gon hadn’t had to work the whole night, and he could relax with his friend over good food, more alcohol than he probably should have drunk, and not having to explain to Mrs. Yuldvin the difference between marijuana, buckeye, and poison oak again. Spinner had even taken care of the fire, although she had left him to rescue the Podomos siblings from the ruins of their tent with nothing more than a smirk and a wave. Nevertheless, Gon smiled through his headache all morning, because soon he’ll be home, and he can sleep.

Zushi is waiting in the parking lot once Gon’s done packing up the last of the gear and saying goodbye to Spinner, jeep idling while he flicks through his phone, thick eyebrows drawn together in increasing concern. He doesn’t even look up until Gon drops his pack onto the hood of the car, and he jolts so badly in surprise that he tosses his phone in the air.

“Are you okay?” Gon asks, and tries to peek at the screen.

Zushi pulls it up and away, a frantic look in his eyes. It won’t really keep Gon from seeing what’s happening, not if he wants to, but Zushi’s height is enough of a deterrent to make it hard. “You were gone way too long,” he says.

Gon leans against the hot metal of Zushi’s car. It wasn’t an unusual length for a trip, not really—this backcountry needs the length to be able to see and understand the region. Not to mention the Small Billed Swan preservation society keeping the whole place locked down except to authorized guides and trekkers. Zushi knows this. They’ve been roommates long enough that this isn’t even the longest time Gon’s been gone.

“You knew I’d be gone til today,” Gon says.

“Yeah, but…” Zushi’s eyebrows descend even further, scrunching his whole face up in worry. “You haven’t checked your phone, right?”

“No?” Even if he did have cell service, Gon never brings his own phone. He borrows Kite’s satellite phone, because it is more reliable and doesn’t need to be charged constantly.

“Okay. Well.” Zushi takes a deep breath, then another, one of Wing’s old meditation techniques. Despite his exhaustion and single-minded determination to sink into a real bed and sleep for a week, Gon feels a minor pang of worry. On breath three, he unlocks his phone and turns it towards Gon. “You’re a meme.”

On Zushi’s screen is a photo Gon can’t ever forget about. Backed by Whale Island’s sunbleached white beaches and the humid brilliant colors of summer, Gon sees himself—twelve, smiling from ear to ear, hair a mess from swimming and his shirt practically covered in sand from digging up all the seashells in his bucket. He’s got an arm around another boy, who’s caught mid-laugh so his blue eyes burn the same color as the sky, white curls even messier than Gon’s hair. They look like they’ve known each other their whole lives, like they’d still be best friends even if they haven’t seen or spoken to each other since the photo was taken.

Gon hopes Killua thinks so, too.

He cradles the phone in his hand, carefully zooming in on their faces and the errant crinkles visible through the photo. His own faded copy is in a drawer, having survived a whole trip around the world and countless apartment jumps. This one looks just as well cared for, in its own way.

“That…is you, right?” Zushi asks carefully. “Because Wing was asking, and half of Kite’s guide company is yelling about it on your social media page that you don’t even use, and now people are messaging me, and they’re saying the weirdest things, and the post is from last week, so—”

“It’s Killua,” Gon says. A smile spreads across his face, a mirror to the one he’d had when he was twelve. “That’s Killua!”

“Who?” the others ask, but Gon isn’t listening.

He spins, frantically searching his pockets for his phone. “Spinner, can you do me a favor?”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously.

Gon knew today was going to be a good day.

—————

It’s been a week, and Killua has quit all social media forever.

The steady buzz of his phone informing the apartment of his notifications is not his problem. Alluka’s the one who decided to hack into his phone and post something to his old public account, the one he mostly uses for photos of cats and complaining about terrible business precedents. He hasn’t posted much since school, and if anything, it should have simply vanished into the void of the internet.

He finds the culprit fairly quickly, and for once it’s not his sister’s moderate but dedicated video following.

“Old man, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Leorio lounges in Alluka and Kalluto’s living room, freshly out of his scrubs and looking pleased as all hell. “I just reblogged a fun post from my friend,” he says somewhat defensively. “You were a cute kid, Killua. What happened?”

Killua feels a growl creep up his throat. “You can’t just do that,” he snaps.

“It’s not my fault the people like my well-coiffed but rugged appearance and dedication to social justice in medicine.”

“You have 500,000 followers because you made a joke post two years ago, and some authorized user reblogged it five times. It has nothing to do with your ugly mug.” If Killua squints and plugs his ears, he can even see why people think Leorio’s attractive or whatever: tan skin, lean but strong as hell, actually takes care of his hair, not to mention a damn good doctor with one of the most prestigious institutions in Yorknew who spends most of his free time running health clinics in impoverished neighborhoods. That’s all swell. But then he starts talking, and Killua has no idea where the off button is.

Leorio spreads a hand out, gesturing vaguely with the glass of iced tea that he’d helped himself to out of Alluka’s stash. “It has everything to do with my ‘ugly mug,’” he says. “Which is why I used my powers for good and spread your post. Don’t you want to find him?”

“Not like this!”

“You were not going to find him at all,” Kalluto’s quiet voice pipes up from the kitchen. They have night classes tonight, but Killua has a feeling that even if they were supposed to be attending their Yorknew Uni lectures, they would still be here making Killua’s life worse. “You’ve had that picture for years, and you did not even try to look.”

Leorio gives him a judgmental look over the tops of his stupid tiny glasses. “You haven’t?”

It would be a losing game to bury his burning face in one of the throw pillows, so Killua does his best to cross his arms over his chest and glower instead. “I…tried.”

“And?”

“I don’t even know his last name!” Killua splutters. “I didn’t have his number or where he was from, other than his mom worked on the ship. And that cruiseline went bankrupt and liquidated everything before I could get out of the house, so I couldn’t even look that up.”

Kalluto crosses over from the kitchen and perches like a sweatshirt-wearing crow on the coffee table, their blue eyes carefully neutral under straight black bangs. “Alluka and Nanika would have helped. Or even Milluki, if you had explained the situation.”

“I was eighteen, okay? I just left home, and our parents were still being…shit, themselves, I guess.” He hadn’t even considered asking for help. Then again, he’d tried the moment he could, that first summer of undergrad where he didn’t have to come home and Illumi couldn’t spend half his time breathing down the back of Killua’s neck. He had a general idea of where they’d gone, maps of islands scurried away in the closet with the old photo and a bag full of seashells Gon had given him as a going-away present.

They’d been friends for a week, in the whirlwind way that only kids can be. The cruise ship was massive, and Killua’s parents were in meetings half the time and playing nice with the other rich people on board the other half. Killua had been bored witless, and Gon was everything he couldn’t have possibly imagined: encouraging Killua to go exploring, to stealing food from the kitchens, making him help clean up the decks, playing cards with the deckhands. Sneaking off the boat to visit an island without Killua’s parents while the ship was docked, scrambling over the burning hot sands and dashing through the jungle, diving into the waves fully clothed and competing to see who could find the biggest prettiest shells. Gon’d been Killua’s first friend, his first crush, his first…a lot of firsts.

Then the cruise had ended, and Killua forgot to give Gon his phone number. His address. Anything. They’d been so swept up in being friends, being best friends, it had seemed impossible that they would never see each other again.

Does Gon even remember? Why should he, when Killua hasn’t contacted him? Would they even be friends anymore?

Maybe he hadn’t searched hard enough. But part of Killua thinks he shouldn’t have tried at all.

The phone buzzes loudly, and Killua tries not to flinch.

“Hey, Killua. It’s okay.” Leorio leans forward, hands clasped over his too-long limbs and expression gentle. “If you want me to delete it, I will. Not sure I can help with the viral part of things, except maybe go through your messages and delete the gross ones, or at least find the weirdest ones for you to laugh at later.”

“Alluka and I have been doing this already,” Kalluto says, their posture a little too protective for Killua’s raw nerves at this point. “But perhaps you have some suggestions for what to do next, Dr. Paladiknight?”

Leorio smiles sympathetically. “Don’t read the comments? That said, most of your comments have been much more positive than anything I usually post. The masses seem to be genuinely rooting for you, kid.”

“I have only had to delete a dozen lewd messages for you this morning,” Kalluto adds, not mentioning the hundred or so that Alluka took care of yesterday.

Killua’s traitorous phone buzzes again, and that’s it. Time to bury himself in a pillow. Killua flops onto the couch, narrowly missing Leorio, and does his best to burrow into the cushions. “That’s just great,” he says into the fabric.

A comforting hand rubs against his hair, messing up the curls for a moment, and Killua refuses to admit that it’s nice, that he has friends like Leorio who even bother to care. “It could be worse. You could be dealing with this while still working a soul-sucking job making more money than most of us will see in our lifetimes, in exchange for giving up all of your morals.”

Killua groans loudly. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“You’re gonna need to do something, Killua! And hey, I might be able to set something up with my—”

“I already told you, no.”

“But it’s what you’re good at. And you wouldn’t be fucking people over to do it.”

“No.”

“Just listen for one—”

Killua lifts his head enough to glare as murderously as he can at Leorio. It must work at least a little, because the doctor shuts up.

Meanwhile, Kalluto is scrolling through Killua’s phone, poking at the screen occasionally. In the awkward silence, their sharp gasp is loud enough to shatter a window, and they hurriedly shove the phone in the pocket of their oversized sweatshirt.

Leorio raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

Kalluto squeezes their eyes shut for a moment, then carefully places the phone on the coffee table, screen pointed innocently at the ceiling. “You will want to look at this one, Brother.”

“This isn’t another erotic sandcastle is it?” he says.

Kalluto shakes their head, and Killua’s stomach lurches up his throat. Alluka has been the one excited about this whole thing. But Kalluto, as reserved as they are, is a massive romantic. The whole thing might be Alluka’s fault, but Killua knows it’s Kalluto who almost lets themselves believe it’ll work. Despite all of the false positives, the people who send messages that don’t sound right or photos that have the wrong smile.

Killua doesn’t want to hope. It can’t possibly be Gon. But his hands shake nonetheless as he unlocks his phone and finds a new message in his DMs.

It’s not from Gon.

Instead, someone with the icon of a small-billed white swan in a soft small-billed hat and a handle of @flymypretties has sent a photo of a brown-skinned man with spiky black hair absolutely covered in dirt and grime. He’s waving at the camera, a backpacking bag propped against his shoulder and the widest smile Killua has ever seen beaming straight through the screen and into his chest. Next to him and half out of frame, a tall tanned man with massive black eyebrows and a tank top showing off an impressive amount of muscle has his head in his hands. Killua feels a sharp stab of sympathy, somewhere buried beneath the racing of his heart.

look im sorry about this but this idiot can’t find his phone and we r kind of in the middle of nowhere so reception’s shit. he wants to know if you admit he found the biggest seashell on the beach, whatever that means.

For a long, long moment—seconds? minutes maybe?—Killua can do nothing but stare at the screen of his phone. Leorio and Kalluto both look at him with a mix of curiosity and worry, Kalluto starting to slowly reach for the phone.

In a completely childish protective moment, Killua grabs it against his chest, like the image will vanish if he doesn’t keep it close.

“Is it…?” Leorio asks.

Killua swallows heavily, trying to think around the roaring of the ocean in his ears. “I think so,” he says faintly.

Kalluto’s eyes widen, and they spin on their heels towards their room. “I’m calling Alluka!”

—————

“Has he responded?”

“No!”

“…what about now?”

Spinner throws her hands in the air so violently that her hat falls off. “For god’s sake, Gon, it’s been an hour, you don’t even have your phone, and you still need to go home.”

Gon huffs and pouts. They’re still in the parking lot over an hour after the rest of the trekking group has left, and all the exhaustion that had settled into Gon’s body from the tour has been turned into a jittery energy that keeps trying to leak out from under his skin. He wants to go home immediately and dig out his copy of the photo, rub out the old fingerprints he and Aunt Mito have left on it over the years. He wants to find his phone and message Killua directly. He wants to wait right here until Killua responds, no matter how long it takes.

He knows it’s childish, to be this selfish. Spinner has work to do, work that she already put on hold to help with the last day of the tour. Kite probably will want to know what’s happening, or at least why his lead guide and his chief guide organizer have been stuck in a parking lot. And Gon can practically feel Zushi’s obsessive scrolling through social media, frantically trying to navigate Gon’s feeds without actually having access.

Gon needs to find his phone.

“Spinner, what if—”

It’s not that Spinner’s a large woman. Out of the three people standing in the parking lot, Zushi’s far and away the strongest, even if he is about as threatening as a large, muscular teddy bear. And Gon has only packed on weight and muscle over his years of backpacking around the wilderness, no matter that he’s not super tall. But Spinner goes for longer, harder treks on her own than anyone but Kite, and she packs in her own climbing gear on top of that, so when she tosses Gon into the back of Zushi’s jeep, he flies.

“Zushi,” she says in a low exhausted snarl, and he jumps right off the hood of his car. Gon probably would have felt bad for him, if everything wasn’t spinning. “If you do not take your roommate home, I am not responsible for the consequences.”

“What if you hear back?” Gon groans around the aches in his side.

Spinner rolls her eyes, and Gon knows she’s just tired. “I’ll let you know.”

“But what if my phone’s gone? What will I do if someone stole it, or if I can’t—”

“I’ll call you go home already,” she says, and slams the door shut on his face.

For a long moment, the only sound is Spinner storming away, boots thudding heavily in the dirt until her car door slams.

The jeep shifts slightly as Zushi quietly lowers himself into the driver’s seat and puts the key into the ignition. Gon wants to tell him to follow Spinner, so she can yell out the window as soon as Killua gets back to her. But Zushi looks about ready to bolt. So Gon slumps back in the seat, the rumble of tires crunching through gravel making his already jittery nerves shake.

A small voice that sounds a lot like Kite tells Gon that it’s better to wait, that it will be easier to have a conversation and determine if this really is Killua after a rest and a shower.

Gon doesn’t want that, though. He wants…

It’s been a long time since he was on Whale Island. Longer still since he saw Killua. That doesn’t mean he stopped thinking about either of them, during the quiet moments out under the stars. They’re part of him, like his lungs are part of him—essential and irreplaceable, buried so far inside that removing them would change him irrevocably.

What is Killua like now? Is Gon just as important to him as he is to Gon? He has to be. Right?

They make it home without saying anything else. Gon floats in and out between bone-deep weariness and electric sparks of nervous joy, and Zushi flinches every time Gon jolts himself from one to the other.

“Hey, are you…I mean, maybe not okay, but.”

Gon lifts his chin up sharply at the sound of his roommate’s voice, and notices the familiar apartment complex in front of him. Oh, they’re home. “I’m good,” he says, and grins.

“Sure,” Zushi says like he doesn’t believe Gon.

A dubious silence stretches out between them as they gather the rest of the gear, dropping it in a heap on the sidewalk. “You were kids, though,” Zushi finally says.

Gon shrugs and slams the door shut hard enough to make the vehicle rattle. “I didn’t forget. So I don’t think Killua would, either.”

Zushi’s eyebrows wrinkle on each other, like they can’t decide whether to go up or down and settle on some combination of the two. “What if he did?”

“He didn’t,” Gon says, more sure of that than anything else in his life.

Zushi’s eyebrows dance again, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Between Gon’s camping gear and Zushi’s leftover practice pads, it takes longer than Gon’s excitement can take to get everything settled enough to look for his phone. Well, Gon would have liked to look for his phone, but Zushi makes a pointed look at the shower. There are only so many places the phone could be in the whole apartment, after all.

Gon’s just drying off when Zushi knocks on the door. “I found it, but it’s dead,” he says, voice muffled.

“Then charge it!” Gon shouts. After a moment, he adds, quieter and less snappishly, “Please?”

A faint laugh echoes through the apartment.

By the time Gon can make himself a very early dinner of whatever he could grab out of the cabinets without thinking, the phone is charged enough to turn on. Sure enough, there are a wide variety of messages, mostly from Kite’s groupchat asking about the viral post. A few are from former hikers, people who Gon liked enough to share contact info, offering to see if they can get in touch. There are even a few—okay, how did they get ahold of his old social media page? It’s practically defunct, since Gon’s never had a phone capable of more than the most basic apps. And those are…

It’s flattering in a way, but Gon’s not really into that. Or them.

Zushi catches sight of the grimace, and takes one look over Gon’s shoulder before turning beet red.

By the time he’s gone through and deleted the vast majority of what had been filling up his phone, there’s still no message from Spinner, and nothing at all from Killua. Gon sighs and lies his head down on the table with a heavy thunk.

The other chair scrapes heavily along the tiles as Zushi sits, a mug of coffee in his hands. “What will you do? When he messages you, I mean.”

When, not if, an unexpected certainty coming from Zushi. Gon has the best friends in the world. “Talk to him,” Gon says. “It’s only been fifteen years, right? We promised we’d be friends forever.”

“A lot changes in fifteen years,” Zushi says.

“Not that.”

“Then why didn’t you look for him?”

Gon frowns. It had taken a long, long time, but Aunt Mito managed to track down the cruise captain the last time they were in port, tracing through old charters until the right names came up. But when she’d called them up, she’d been met with stonewall after stonewall, pleasant-sounding voices insisting in no uncertain terms that she would never speak with a member of Killua’s family, let alone let her son speak to his friend. By the time Gon was old enough to look himself, he found nothing but a mansion full of people whose eyes matched Killua’s in everything except for his warmth, who refused to even acknowledge Gon’s presence except to throw him out.

That had been years ago. It’s not that Gon stopped looking. Not exactly.

“I did, but I—” Gon starts to say, but his phone buzzes violently against the table, and they both jump out of their chairs.

“Is it—?” Zushi asks, breath in his throat.

It’s a message from Spinner. you owe me big time, kid, she says, followed by a phone number.

Gon rips his phone off the cable, a wide smile spreading across his face. “It is,” he says, and dials Killua.

—————

bzz bzz—

bzz bzz—

bzz b—

“H-hello?”

“Killua! Hi!”

“…Gon? Is that—It’s really…?”

“Killua, it’s you, I thought I’d never—”

“I did find the biggest seashell, and you know it.”

A breath, sharp and astonished. “The blue and white one, with green lines.”

“I found it, and I gave it to you.”

“I still have it.”

A snort of amusement, slightly damp. “I know. You promised you’d keep it.”

“I did. And I promised—”

“That we’d be friends forever.”

A laugh, delighted and teary at the same time. “I knew you remembered.”

“I did promise you that I would.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

(AUgust prompts)

#AUgust2020 #hunter x hunter #hxh #killugon #gon freecss #killua zoldyck #alluka zoldyck #kalluto zoldyck #leorio paladiknight #zushi #spinner clow #gone viral au #fluff #and then killua visits gon and they get together and everything is lovely and killua finally takes leorio up on his offer the end #thanks tumblr for fucking up my tag for this whole challenge #my writing

[fletchphoenix]

Are We Forgetting Something?

Just finished editing Chapter 17 of Coffee Tastes Better When I Drink It With You!!! Please bear in mind this was written before Christmas but I wrote loads and had to cut it down and edit it a lot. I hope you enjoy the double update!! <3

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

Hugo grumbled as he woke up, Ruddiger jumping onto his chest and taking his place there as though he were a king taking his place on a throne. He purred for a second, his rough tongue licking Hugo’s face and jolting the man to fully being awake rather than his dazed state. “Alright, alright you dumb cat.” He muttered as he sat up, feeling around on his bedside table as he searched for his glasses and put them on. As the world became clearer, he glanced down to his left, taking a moment to glance down at his fiance with a smile playing on his lips. He looked beautiful. Really, really beautiful. 

Hair was sprawled out on the pillow around him like a halo as he snored, his mouth open as he slept. It was a bad habit, really, and he’d noticed his fiance never grew out of it. It was cute as hell though, the other always pulling a face when he woke up at how dry his mouth was. Hugo let out a little chuckle at the thought of it. His fiance really was the biggest dork ever, huh? Still, he admired the man before him as he slept, taking in the little freckles and marks over his face, Hugo reaching over to gently brush a strand of hair away from Varian’s face and being careful not to wake the man up, and, as if he was wired to ruin the moment, Ruddiger took a scratch at Hugo’s forearm. “Ow you fat bastard! Fine, I’ll go get you some food, but you fuckin’ owe me for this.” He grumbled as he rose to his feet, the glint of Varian’s engagement ring not going unnoticed as he made his way out of the room. He couldn’t help the little smile that took over his features as he was reminded of last night. 

As he walked through the tiny apartment, he couldn’t help the feeling he was forgetting something, his hands instinctively moving to lift the cat bowl from the floor and placing it on the counter. He took a look at the clock. 10:27am. Why did he feel like he was forgetting something? Sinking back into the routine, he took out a sachet and emptied the contents into the metallic bowl, Ruddiger deciding to just jump on the counter and eat it right then and there. “You really are a fat bitch, huh.” He muttered under his breath, and he could swear the cat hissed at him in response as he took their mugs from the cupboard and began to boil some water to make a coffee. He really couldn’t shake the feeling he’d forgotten something...was it Donella’s birthday? No, that was in February...Eugene’s? No...the arrogant bastard would have reminded them at least a billion times if that was the case. 

Arms wrapped around his waist, almost scaring the shit out of him as his muscles stiffened and a loud chuckle sounded from behind him as Varian pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder. “Hey baby…” He whispered, and Hugo could tell that the bastard was grinning smugly as he continued to press kisses against the skin. “Sleep well, my handsome fiance..?” 

“Yes, very, until your bitch of a cat decided to wake me up because he decided his insatiable appetite needed to be at least slightly satisfied in order for him to be happy.” Hugo complained, though his boyfriend simply let out a soft laugh. “Don’t laugh! Our son is literally the worst and he knows what he’s doing because he never wakes you up! Only me!”

“Maybe if you stopped calling him fat, he would hate you a bit less.” Varian whispered, Hugo turning to retaliate before a kiss was placed to his lips and, miraculously, he forgot what he was talking about. They settled into a nice, slow kiss, Varian gently pushing his fiance against the counter as the blond’s hand moved to entangle themselves in raven locks. They would’ve gone further too, if it weren’t for the sudden buzzing and ringing emitting from Varian’s phone in their bedroom. Slowly, the younger one broke the kiss. “Who the fuck is even calling me..” He groaned as he left his boyfriend standing in the kitchen, a childish groan leaving his lips. “Oh fuck. Hugo, remember the day?”

“No actually-” The blond paused. He checked the clock again. 10:34am. He left the kitchen, the fat cat finishing off his food as he stepped into the living room. The Christmas tree was still up. He’d proposed last night as an early Christmas present for Varian, and he’d said yes. That meant yesterday was Christmas Eve and today was…”Shit. Varian, we’re late. We’re late!” he yelled out, rushing into the bedroom to get changed, his boyfriend having already remembered the occasion. Quickly, he scrambled to get dressed, almost tripping over as he pulled on some black slacks and a green dress shirt, buttoning it up and hastily fixing his hair. “Oh fuck, Rapunzel is gonna kill us for being late! Shit!” 

“Don’t you think I already know that!” Varian yelled in response, his choice of outfit being jeans, a white dress shirt and a cyan sweater over the top. Joining Hugo at the dresser, they both desperately tried to fix their hair before rushing to the hall and pulling their shoes on. He had to be honest though, his boyfriend still looked damn good, even when he was rushing to look his best. He was a sight to behold - a sight that made Hugo’s knees feel very very weak and caused him not to think straight. His outfit looked good too, especially when he pulled on his coat and wrapped Hugo’s old scarf around his neck to prepare himself for the bitter weather outside. “You ready to go and get murdered by Rapunzel?”

Hugo took his boyfriend’s hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his palm, a smile on his face as he saw the other’s face flush red. No matter how much affection he showered the other with, he could never seem to get used to it. It was absolutely adorable in his opinion, the man never ceased to warm his heart. He loved that about him. The same flush always came to his cheeks at the slightest gestures. “Ready as I’ll ever be, darling.” He responded, unlocking the door and heading out into the hallway. 

Walking down the stairs hand in hand was always awkward, the stairs too narrow to let more than one person walk. It honestly seemed like a fire hazard in Hugo’s opinion, but the whole building was essentially a living deathtrap so he wasn’t really surprised. But it was still home. Well, not technically. Hugo’s head raised to look at Varian, who jumped the last two stairs instead of walking down them and a wide smile grew on his face, the joy on his face infectious. Home was wherever he was with Varian. His eyes drifted down to the other’s ring and his smile grew wider, if that was even possible at this point with how happy he already was. 

“I wanna take the motorbike. We’re already too late and walking will slow us down.” Varian rambled as he intertwined his fingers with Hugo’s, the pair already heading over to the aforementioned vehicle. As soon as the green metal came into sight, Varian perked up with a smile and shuffled even closer to his boyfriend. Hugo swung his leg over, his boyfriend following suit and wrapping his arms around his waist before proceeding to drive through the city roads en route to Rapunzel and Eugene’s cottage.

Varian’s head rested against Hugo’s back, the smile on the blond’s face never disappearing as he felt the warmth of the man behind him and the gentle sigh of wonder as he watched the busy city turn into serene countryside. He’d never felt more loved than in that moment, the other man absolutely full of wonder as he looked out at the changing landscapes that he knew all too well. Quietly, Hugo pulled into the driveway of the cottage and took the key out of the ignition, swinging his leg off the bike and helping steady his fiance as he did the same. “Damn baby, you fell right into my arms. You alright?” He chuckled softly, earning a gentle shove as he simply burst out into laughter. Hand in hand, the pair opened the gate and made their way up to the door.

Cassandra opened the door, Irene standing beside her, and both with disappointed expressions on their faces. Cass had...definitely changed, her once bobbed hair now in an undercut with shaved sides. Not to say it didn’t suit her - it definitely did. She looked great. Irene looked different too, her once long hair cut into a bob. “You two are late. Y’know she’s gonna kill you right?” The raven haired woman stated before losing the facade and pulling the boys into a hug. “C’mere you gay nerds, I’ve missed you two so so much…” 

“We’ve missed you too, Cassie.” Varian replied, smiling up at the woman before letting Irene pull them into an embrace as well. Hugo had never really gotten used to that - all the cuddling and hugging...Donella never was one for that kind of thing. She always tended to keep her distance from Hugo and his emotions, other than the time that Ulla had shown up and everything had gone to shit…but he preferred not to think about that. Not when it was Varian’s favourite time of the year (though Hugo much preferred Halloween, like an excuse to scare the crap out of little kids all while dressing up in a cheap costume? It was like heaven!). 

A gasp from down the hall broke him from his thoughts, Rapunzel standing there with her arms folded and a frown on her face. Hugo wasn’t even sure whether he’d seen her frown before - it felt terrifying. “So you wanna explain why you were late?” She raised her eyebrow, the boys stuttering excuses before the woman practically jumped into their arms. They stumbled back into the wall as the woman broke their ribs in the biggest, tightest hug they’d ever been in, before pulling away and gasping to grab their hands and stared and their fingers. “Oh my god! When did this happen? Who asked first? You have to tell me everything!” She giggled as she pulled them along and sat them down, Lance and the girls waving to them as Eugene sat on the floor.

“Oh um, well…last night, I was waiting for Hugo to come home from work to propose, and he decided to propose when I was planning to. Hugo asked first and...I said yes if he would say yes too so...yeah!” Varian laughed, explaining last night as if it wasn’t like some weird cliche moment from a movie or a book. Hugo wrapped his arm around the other’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his jawline with a soft smile and listening as Rapunzel rambled on about something or the other. He didn’t really listen though, he simply kept holding his boyfriend close to him and playing with his hair happily. 

“Rapunzel, did you tell them the news?” Eugene asked from his place on the floor, a wide grin on his face as he rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist, pressing a kiss to the junction between her neck and her collarbone. When he was younger, Hugo would’ve gagged at the gesture, but now...well, he knew he was just as sappy as the man in front of him. He was rather happy, really, that he and Eugene managed to eventually get along, especially after their little talk last Christmas. He’d never admit it but he kinda liked the guy.

“Oh, yeah! I’m pregnant!” she smiled widely, Varian gasping and immediately rising to his feet (much to Hugo’s dismay) and swarming her with questions. Hugo simply nodded in congratulations towards Eugene, the man giving him a smile and nodding back in return as he moved away from his wife and headed towards the kitchen. Yep, he definitely liked Eugene. 

The pair must’ve rambled for hours about names and genders, until Rapunzel finally put the conversation to a close. “Anyway, it’s time for food!” she laughed cheerfully as she rose to her feet and walked towards the kitchen, everyone following in her footsteps and taking their seats at the table. Hugo’s, thankfully, was next to Varian and Irene, the woman paying more attention to her fiancee and the other people at the dinner table than Hugo. He’d always found Christmas awkward, having never been able to celebrate it when he was living with Donella. They’d always found it difficult to get money, so when they had it, they wouldn’t spend it on something like Christmas, so as soon as he came here with Varian, who adored Christmas and spent it with his family...it was a very sharp 180 to what he was used to. He didn’t know how to react, so he simply held his fiance’s hand under the table as he ate and listened to the conversations taking place.

After dinner had finished, Varian and Hugo took their seat on the couch, their arms around each other as people slowly started to leave. They could stay for longer - there was no rush and they felt terrible about arriving late, so it wouldn’t hurt to stay a little while. Hugo’s fingers threaded through Varian’s hair as he pressed a kiss to the man’s temple and stared out the window. Snow was now falling quite heavy - it would probably make the roads dangerous. He’d loved snow but...he knew Varian couldn’t leave, the man’s breathing already quickening as Hugo shuffled to shield his vision.

“You two can stay here tonight, boys. The roads aren’t safe.” Rapunzel replied as she moved towards the window with a frown, watching the little, white flakes hit the dirt roads and stick to it. “You can have the spare room, but please, don’t try and drive, okay?” She smiled sadly at Hugo, the blond nodding in agreement. There was no way in hell he was driving anywhere in a snowstorm when his boyfriend was here, not after what he’d told him on the night they’d confessed their feelings to each other. And, as he locked eyes with Rapunzel, he could see all the guilt in her eyes from the past few years. He felt bad for her, really. Her and Varian were quite similar in that sense - both of them had never really forgiven themselves for how they’d acted back then. 

“We’ll head upstairs.” Hugo stated, rising to his feet and gently pulling his boyfriend along with him towards the staircase. They ascended the creaking stairs before Varian took the lead. Hugo had never really been upstairs in the cottage before, hell, he didn’t even know it had an upstairs until he found the staircase. His fiance pushed open an oak door, showing a small guest room, decorated in typical Rapunzel style decor, with paintings on the wall of different flowers, birds and stars, and bookshelves full of books pressed against the wall. In the middle of the room was a double bed, Varian immediately pulling Hugo towards it after he shut the door and virtually pulled the man down to lie beside him. “How’re you holding up, goggles?” 

“Not very well. I just wanna cuddle and sleep.” Varian muttered as he buried his head into his chest, Hugo being able to feel the tears soaking through. A gentle sigh left his mouth as he played with his fiance’s hair and pressed kisses against this forehead, singing a little melody to him in an attempt to soothe the man. Slowly, he felt the tears stop pooling on his chest as Varian muttered against his shirt. “I love you, Hugh. I don’t tell you enough...I love you so so much..” he choked out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I keep acting this way-”

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. It’s okay.” He whispered. “It's okay to cry and be upset - I get it. It’ll all be alright. I’m here and nothing can hurt you.” Hugo reassured the man in his arms and, eventually, the body beside him lost its tension as he fell asleep, gentle snores soon following and Hugo moved back to see the man’s mouth wide open, a sad little chuckle leaving his lips as he looked down at the sight. Quietly, he brought him closer, resting his chin on top of the man’s head as he stared at the wall. 

He really wished he could take all of his boyfriend’s pain away and kiss away all of his tears, though he knew he couldn’t. It hurt him to see him hurting - to hear his boyfriend in so much pain...he let out yet another sigh as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his waist even tighter than before. “I love you so much, Varian.” He whispered into the air, closing his eyes and letting himself fall asleep.

#varian #varigo #tangled varian #varian tangled #tangled hugo #hugo x varian #varian x hugo #hugo tangled #varigo coffee shop au #varian and the seven kingdoms #alchemy boyfriends

[apples-r-rubbish]

John (11 x reader) Part 2

Word count: 3.1k Warnings: Violence (!!!), death mention, alcohol mention, knives mention AN: I couldn’t wait to post this! So I ended up rewriting and editing some of this at a ridiculous time in the morning. Hope you like it! Thank you for the support on the first part, I know it’s not a lot but it means a lot to me. So thank you! Part 3 should be up in a few days maybe. 

PART 1

You woke, after a dreamless night, memories rolling about your head, smells of burning throughout the house. Jumping to your feet, you began to panic, assuming the worst had happened you bolted down the stairs, dressed in nothing but the nightshirt john had leant you so you weren’t sleeping in a heavy dress.

“I smell burning, John, is everything alright? John?” You shouted as you entered the kitchen. John, noticed you and turned quickly to face a wall to hide his flushed face

“Dear, everything’s ok, I just burnt an attempt at breakfast, I’ve lifted out a spare toothbrush for you in the bathroom at the top of the stairs,” His breathing faltering slightly, realisation hitting him as he firmly faced the wall, hand covering his eyes “Maybe we could go out for breakfast considering I burnt this one?”

“Thank you, I’m so sorry I just was worried something was wrong. Especially after last night,” blush now radiating from your own cheeks. 

You went upstairs brushed your teeth and changed quickly, and came back down the stairs, 

“Do you mind if I use your phone again? I have another call to make, sorry,” You apologised quickly

“I’m going to start charging you for using it, but yes sure,” He teased before giving you some privacy. You dialled the Williams’ number again, Rory this time was the one to answer “statue, 45 minutes. We’re safe, currently playing music,” you said as you heard the radio turn on in the other room and lifted the phone in hopes he could hear it

“Statue? With him?” Rory asked, it was a meeting point to discuss things

“Nope just us, I’ll distract him before he gets to us,” You smiled into the phone and hung up before he could question you any further. 

“Are your phone calls always that peculiar or is it just something you do when you're with me?” He asked with a small laugh as you entered his front room the radio loud

“Oh, only when you’re around. I have secrets to keep and friends to meet in three quarters on an hour,” 

“Dance with me please,” He cut you off and then extended a hand to you, “no ifs, no secrets, no friends, no knives, just dancing.”

“Fine, you should know I am atrocious though,” You accepted his hand, with a small, sly smile

“At this point, nothing could surprise me, you could be a dancing champion and you’d still be humble about it,” You swayed awkwardly together, his hand on your waist, the other holding yours. He was surprisingly good, despite the doctors natural inability to dance. At one point he attempted to spin you and failed miserably, causing laughter to erupt between you both, your faces inching closer gradually. You blinked and his mouth was on yours, it felt foriegn and wrong, very un-doctor-like and confident. You realised and slapped him. 

“No, you’re not doing that, we aren’t doing that. Not now,” You spluttered stepping back suddenly, teeth bared, wiping your lips with the back of your hand aggressively “You aren’t him, stop it, back off ”

“I’m not your old friend, (Y/N), I know, I just- I thought we had-”

“Save it. I’m leaving to meet my friends, thank you for the talk, and the bed, and the dance, but I’m leaving,” You picked up your coat, bag and slammed the door behind you, leaving John in awkward strong silence, rubbing his sore cheek.

By the time you’d met Amy and Rory you’d started weeping. You explained the whole situation to them, “I mean at least he’s still oblivious to the actual danger, that’s got to be small positive in all of this, they haven’t actually begun anything” Rory stated adjusting the cuffs on his shirt

“Not so great about the kissing though is it?” You finished sending a sharp glare back at him

“Definitely less of a positive, more of a neutral point, really, just a thing, that happened,” He stumbled "We'll go out tonight and you can forget about it.". They had found the watches one real, one fake, one in the TARDIS the other in his classroom. Plans could be set in motion. It was a Friday, the school day only began at 12 as the majority of students and staff attended a church service in the morning. You arrived with a handful of minutes to spare, ignoring the judgemental glares of your colleagues. The school was quiet, which wasn't a bad thing typically, but silent Fridays felt wrong and uncomfortable. 

At some point during your day, an unfamiliar man walked into the office. 

"Hello sir? Can I help you?" you questioned

"Ah yes, girl. I'm here to speak to my son. An issue has occurred at home and I need to make him aware of it. I'm Henry Baker, my son is William," he sounded stiff when he spoke as if his lines had been rehearsed

"Ah, he's in Mr Smith's class currently, I'll have to escort you there I'm afraid, school rules," you spoke, fake confidence filling your voice. You reached Mr Smith's classroom, cautiously you knocked not wishing to disturb his ramblings about ancient Greece or tudors. 

"You may enter. Ah Miss (L/N)? What are you doing here? I- I mean how can I help you?" sadness crept into the edges of John's voice. You avoided his eyes, not wishing to think about dancing with him this morning and the feeling of his mouth against yours.

"William Baker, where is he?" you asked shortly 

"Uh, no I believe he isn't attending today," he said leaning over his plinth and running a hand through his slicked down hair. It wasn't him. 

"Thank you anyways, sir," you turned and left the room as the ramblings started again

"I'm afraid your son isn't here today. Allow me to escort you to the exit, Mr Baker," you apologised a  fake smile plastered to your face, not allowing the man to argue or get into the classroom. He huffed, insisted it was fine and left silently. You wished you could sit in on one of John's lessons, listen to his monologues. They were too similar to the rants the doctor would go on when you caught him discussing an alien planet or a story from centuries ago. 

After a mind numbingly boring few hours, the day ended, rushed home, got changed quickly and rushed back out again. The dance hall was busier than usual, when you arrived. You took a seat with Amy and Rory and were handed drinks. You had long calmed down after the events of the morning and simply wanted to drink, dance and smile with your friends and forget about the double life. John had entered the room and sent you a glance, you ignored it and Rory put his arm around you, like a protective big brother. Amy was rambling about a customer from work that day and their miniscule complaints about something, when a man approached your table, you had noticed him around a few times. He was gorgeous, dark brown eyes with freckles covering his face. His eyes seemed slightly dimmer than usual. “Excuse me, miss, sorry, my name’s Tom, I’ve seen you around here for a little while and I’ve always wanted to dance with you, I just never had the courage to ask, until now,”  You accepted the invitation. His hand was colder than usual, and from the corner of your eye you watched the man that resembled the doctor shrink slightly in his seat. It’s true, Tom had been observing you and you had wanted to dance with him, if it weren’t for John and the aliens you would’ve asked him yourself.

You laughed and danced together for a few songs, until you had decided to sit back down at the table and Amy handed you another glass of wine, “Well you certainly had a good time, and he was cute, what a positive,” Amy spoke. You all laughed, John approached the table nervously. The laughter died in your throats. He’d dressed differently, rather than the standard longer tie, he’d swapped it for a bowtie and you all went pale upon realising it. “I don’t want to hear whatever you’re about to say unless it’s an apology,” You remarked before you could stop yourself, the wine taking initiative.

“I am deeply sorry, I crossed a line, I’m sorry the adrenaline from last night hadn’t worn off and I just think you’re really beautiful and I thought we’d connected,” he rambled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck “anyway, what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry and I’d like to ask you to dance again, to make up for last time.” Rory shot you a concerned look and you stood up, ready to accept. 

The doors swung open. A gang of men entered various voices shouting about an alien, and one of them waving their arms about. 

"Everyone get out of here!" you screamed as they ran, "Get him to the school now. It's time for the plan. We need him. I'll follow. School! Now! Go!" 

Amy and Rory nodded, pulling John away despite his many protests and attempts to fight back.  If you were about to die, you were going to put on a show. 

"What are you doing here madam?" One of them spoke

"Oh. Hello. Well you see the thing is I was about to dance with a man i did rather like but unfortunately, he's left now, shame really," you scoffed sarcasm dripping from your words, heart beating out of your chest. A cracking noise erupted from the men. You finally looked at them. Dotted amongst them was Mr Roscoe, Tom, Mr Baker and Edward Gray. Their heads tilted back in unison, as their mouths hung open, eyes now white and pale. The voice spoke. It was low,threatening and heavy. 

"Where is the timelord? We can sense the artron energy on you. We are aware of your connections," the voice boomed. It wasn't coming from any of the people, it was simply existing appearing from nowhere as their faces twisted as they appeared to be choking. 

"Let them go and we won't have any trouble-" You were cut short by a hard fist colliding with your face, and another in your stomach, and another, and another. Thinking fast you pulled out the sonic screwdriver and pressed a button on it. The men collapsed with a high pitch screech falling from then. Get out, was your only thought. So you did.

You ran, faster than you had ever possibly ran before. You’d reached the school quickly pushing the old oak doors open and slamming them behind you, then you were bombarded by two sets of arms around you

“God, I thought you weren’t going to make it,” Amy cried a few tears on her face.

“With no offence meant, (Y/N), you look terrible,” Rory laughed tensely “I’ll have to look you over in a second, and before you ask, he’s fine and safe, just shaken and concerned about you,”

After Rory had checked you over, you pushed open the door to John’s classroom, he ran to you and tried to hug you

“Beware, I have quite a number of bruises, so I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you said still rubbing at you split lip

“Oh God, did they do this to you? Are you alright? How could you have been so stupid?” John scalded through tears. He still acted like the doctor despite everything.

“John, I’m fine, it gave you and the others time so it’s ok. We need to barricade the main entrance,” You turned to the others “Pin, glass, soon. Do you have the needle too?” Amy nodded, she handed you a fake watch. More code.

“Great,” You smiled more at the item than her

“What? Why do you keep speaking in code? What is that? What does it mean? (Y/N), I’m tired and I need to know,” John stressed angry tears slipping from his eyes, this was too much for him.

“Hey, shush, it’s ok you’ll find out soon, we just have to get out of this situation and you’ll know all about it.” It technically wasn’t a lie.

“(Y/N), they’re coming,” Rory shouted from the other room. You grabbed John’s shirt in your hands, pulled him towards you, and kissed him, not giving him to process it. It’d seemed more like the doctor rather than the quiet confidence of John. “We’re even now. Don’t tell my friend” A small smile escaped your mouth.

“I promise, I won’t,” He whispered in response, shock still clearly in his system, an awkward laugh breaking the tension. Hopefully he wouldn’t remember. You walked into the hallway, a barricade in full effect “Amy get into the other room, keep him safe, try to convince him to open the watch,” She nodded and headed to the other room. 

Rory was handed the fake watch, the needle, and an old antique sword from one of the many walls “Still got it, centurion? I’m going to need you to run as far as you can get that thing away from here, and get them to fight over it and get back here as fast as you can,” He nodded and ran out the back door after saying a brief I love you to Amy. Another antique sword was pulled off the wall by yourself and scabbard disregarded on the floor. There was a brief struggle against the old wooden doors and the barricade before they were smashed open. 

“Hello, again, boys,” You smiled, waving the sword in one hand and sonic screwdriver in the other. If you wanted him to live, you had to act like the doctor “So unfortunately, I hate to break it you but if you are looking for the item that we refer to as the needle, it’s travelling as fast as possible in that direction with a 2000 year old roman centurion armed with a sword so unfortunately this detour has been a little bit pointless, I’m afraid dears.”

“You will die soon,” the voice rumbled, 

“Will I now? I mean we all will at some point. I will say, however, it’d sound more convincing if I wasn’t a time traveller from the 21st century holding a sword and a powerful scientific device somewhere far beyond this planet, with enough knowledge of this town for you to lose in me for months.”

Their numbers had lowered, there were roughly seven left from the original back of twelve. Edward Gray stood in the centre, his head following your movements. Mr Roscoe was no longer with the group. 

“Split up. We’re wasting resources. We’ve already lost some due to the device” The voice rumbled. Four of them including Edward and Henry rushed past you. Their feet dragging slightly along the floor as they ran, their footsteps uneven and heavy. One of the men that you’d seen around town took a step forward, his arm reaching for you, swiping your sword at him, you caught his neck. The body coughed up a blue liquid, mouth still hanging open, as he crumpled. Another ran at you, he thrusted something at you, a sharp pain in your neck. You pressed the sonic and waved it at him, he fell backwards, with a groan. The final man stepped forward, Tom. “Tom stop, fight it, think of your family and your friends, fight-” you were silenced by him slamming you against the wall by your throat. You were caught off guard breathing faltering. Tom grabbed the sword and twisted it towards you, the cool metal catching your skin.“You will die, you will die, you will die,” The voice repeated “insufferable time traveller, you will pay for this,” You screamed, the agony and blood hot. “Amy,” you wheezed, as your vision began to blur from the pressure on your throat. The door swung open, Amy slipped out quietly

“Hey, weirdo! Leave my friend alone,” She shouted her fist colliding with the face knocking him out. Slipping down the wall you gasped, relief and oxygen flooding your system. 

“(Y/N), are you ok?” she asked observing the fresh wound

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Go after Rory, a few of them went after him, he needs you,” You explained kicking the sword towards her. Taking the sword in her hands, she nodded and ran. Feebly, you pulled yourself up, putting pressure on your wound as you wobbled into John’s classroom. He was crying slumped against a corner, “Are- Are you alright? Good God! You’re bleeding, did they hurt you? What happened to them?”

“John, dear, I’m fine just little scrapes,” you whisper kneeling down to his level your voice still weak “You’ll understand in a bit, we just need to do something first,”

“Amelia, already tried to convince me. I- I- I don’t want to open it. (Y/N), I don’t want whatever that was to be the normal for me, I’m scared, and I know that watch has something to do with it” He cried 

“I know, it’s terrifying, but it’s the perception filter, making you think that,”

“And- And there you go again, nonsense words, unfathomable concepts. I heard what you said, the 21st century, the future, the amount of pain you must have seen. Do you think I hadn’t noticed the pain and loss in your eyes? I’m not your old friend, I’m John Smith, I’m a teacher here. Whoever you think I am, I can assure you I’m not,” You patted his arm, “I’m sorry you need to open it. I’m so sorry. I want to help but this is the only way I can” He looked between you and the watch, he cupped your face nervously and paused for a second, you nodded. Your lips gently collided. 

“John, dear, I’m sorry,” You mumbled into his lips after a few calming kisses. He turned to the watch, you pushed yourself up and walked to the other side of the room. He turned the watch in his hands examining it gently

“I’ve loved you since I met you. You are beautiful, intelligent, and amazing. Maybe in another life,it might’ve worked out for us,” He looked up at you, tears still falling. 

You opened your mouth to speak as the watch flicked open, you heard the man scream first, then windows shattering, squinting in an attempt to see him despite the golden light filling the room. Glass flew everywhere, wind bursting into the room.  Eventually screaming stopped and so did the light. He fell to his knees with a thud. 

“I’m back,” he mumbled his head slamming forward, the final wisps of gold light dissipating. Panic struck his face as he saw you.

PART 3

#doctor who x reader #doctor who x you #11th doctor x reader #11th doctor x you #11th doctor #eleven x reader #Eleventh doctor x reader #self insert #self insert doctor who #self insert fanfiction #Doctor who #doctor who fanfic #doctor who fanfiction

[bird-in-a-cage]

#42 from the prompt list... I mean I'm sorry but... I NEED TO SEE THAT.

Wow, am I sorry this took so long! This was a tough prompt but, thanks to @cockasinthebird for being a wonderful human being, we got through it. So I hope this was worth the wait!

Prompt list is here if anyone wants to throw a prompt at me!

#42: “I didn’t say “sex party” as in orgy.  I said “hex party” as in witches.”

So far, college had been okay. It was as hard and challenging as Steve had expected, but he was getting on almost well. He had to spend a lot of time studying in the library, reading and re-reading source materials, typing, editing, deleting and starting all over again with essays and assignments sure. But it was different from high school, on a deep level he wanted to be here, amongst the old stone buildings that either held no heat at all or far too much depending on the weather outside, surrounded by people who also shared a passion for learning. It was different to focus on what he wanted to learn instead of just having to cram a little bit of everything into his brain everyday.

Turns out, if he was just allowed to go a little slower and take his time, he wasn’t as dumb as everyone back home at thought.

He’d gotten into college by the skin of his teeth, pulling far too many all nighters and living off five hour energy to drag his grades up when it was almost too late, pulling in every favour he had to retake anything below a C with nothing but a prayer and a pleading smile, somehow managing to not go completely insane in the process. Getting a 3 point grade average at graduation had been nothing short of a miracle. He wanted to say his parents had nothing to do with his acceptance into quite a nice school, but in reality Steve knew they probably greased a palm or two. Maybe helped pay for the new set of band uniforms that were recently unveiled.

The college itself was beautiful. Steve had fallen for it on his first visit. Old stone buildings, a large green campus area, a good surrounding community, regular activities and groups to go meet up with and try different things with now he was getting out of small town Hawkins and away from being stuck in what he knew. 

There was something a bit…odd about the college though. Steve would be sat in the library, for example, finishing up a comparison piece when he would hear the telltale low battery beep from his headphones. He always forgot to bring a charger. He knew it was on his nightstand back in the dorm room, wrapped around the drawer handle so he wouldn’t forget to lift it this time, so it was pointless checking his bag for it. He would go to pack his things away, open up his slouchy backpack and there it would be, his exact one because he’d wrapped a piece of green tape around it when his roommate kept stealing it and swearing blind he hadn’t, laying curled around his water bottle..

That wasn’t the only example though. Things would just appear when he was looking for them. Books he needed from a completely different section would just happen to be on the shelf he was currently looking at. If a flavour of soda was sold out at a vending machine, he would pick another, but the one he originally wanted would tumble out, ice cold and somehow impossibly refreshing. None of them were a major inconvenience by far, but it was just odd. 

The only small downside to the college of his dreams is that he forgot to investigate anything about the fraternities and sororities. Steve didn’t really have any desire to be in any frat even if offered, they were just houses for boys to pretend not to be at least a little bicurious as they bumped into each other all sweaty playing sports, using basketball as an excuse to touch each other’s muscles. Flat out no homo-ing each other. Steve was out and proud at college, didn’t need an excuse anymore other than “you’re hot, you wanna?”. The days of bi-panic and needing a thinly veiled excuse such as helping someone he thought was cute off the ground in the middle of a match were long gone.  Steve had been to a couple of frat parties, naturally, everyone did. They were kinda fun if you hung around outside away from the thick, choking air of sexual tension that was threatening to bubble over at any minute.

Everyone knew frat houses were just potential orgy dens, right?

There was one frat house though, just off campus and to the right a little, that gave off a weird vibe. The Omega House. It didn’t look that special, had dark grey panelling on the outside, windows trimmed in white, the omega symbol on the outer wall above the door painted in silver that reflected the sunlight and looked almost like real silver. Like the college itself, it was just odd. As far as Steve could tell it didn’t have many members, only four, as far as he’d counted, would walk around in blazing orange letterman jackets with that emblem stitched into the back and a smaller one on the front right breast. He didn’t know what majors they took, probably all on sports scholarships with how stacked a couple of them looked, and one liked to hang around the library. Always in sunglasses even indoors, tight jeans to combat the slightly too big jacket. Blonde hair shaved at the sides but longer on top, not wildly long but just enough for natural loose curls to develop.

Not that Steve had been looking at how handsome he was at all.

Thinking about it, he seemed to always be around when the odd things happened. When there would suddenly be a spare chair even though all the tables were packed with other students trying to do their work, a fresh stack of post it notes in Steve’s bag when he needed to write an annotation down quickly, a newly sharpened pencil just happening to be on the floor by his feet when he’d lost his before class. The rain suddenly starting as soon as Steve got into a building when he’d forgotten an umbrella like it was waiting for him to be safe and dry.

There was just something weird about the whole thing. Not enough for him to freak out and want to go home though, no way. He could deal with weird and slightly odd far better than being stuck in a town going nowhere, where his only future was getting a job in his father’s company and a wife he didn’t love, cranking out a couple kids after a year of so and slowly but surely morphing into a mirror image of the man he lowkey despised.

Even the thought of that was horrifying. It was bad enough that genetically they might look similar one day. Hopefully many, many years in the future. When plastic surgery was cheap.

The library was quiet when Steve entered. Of course it was, it was a Friday night. There were a number of parties and gatherings happening all over the place, but this week he’d promised himself to be good. Study now and party later. He’d been invited to a glow paint, totally-not-a-rave party happening just outside of town that he was pretty excited for. He’d been focusing hard on his studies so it was time to let off some steam. And maybe that steam had been building for quite some time cause ol’ Lefty wasn’t doing the trick anymore, mashing his face into a pillow in the dead of night, furiously jacking off under a blanket and praying his roommate didn’t wake up or come back soon. And, maybe sometimes, Steve thought about that cute blonde in the Omega House jacket and how good it would be to see those thick lips all slick and swollen wrapped around his cock. Really those thoughts were just between him and God, who he hoped wasn’t paying attention most of the time he was alone in his room.

Steve found the spot he liked, towards the back facing towards the window where he couldn’t be distracted by people walking in, and pulled his laptop and the well annotated copy of Dracula he was working from. His half finished essay sat on the screen, cursor blinking at him accusingly, demandingly even. He sighed at it and opened up to the page he was last working from when the chair next to him was pulled out. Not even one or two over, obeying the unspoken rule of the Personal Study Bubble. No, the very next chair. Steve could see orange reflected on his screen. He frowned slightly and turned to just give a passing glance, hoping for a the fuck? expression, when he saw staggeringly blue eyes staring back, nestled into tan freckled skin, natural curls just reaching down into the field of view. The regular sunglasses had been tucked up into the neck of a black tee. The back of Steve’s neck felt instantly hot as he looked away, hoping for a moment he hadn’t been seen, but that was impossible. He was right there.

“Hey, haven’t seen you around before. Must be in the same class though.” His voice was deep and Steve felt his legs turn a little bit to jello. He chanced another glance and saw the guy was holding a copy of Dracula too. Steve wasn’t sure he’d been holding it before… 

“Well, I attend almost every lecture…”

“You must do if you’re in here by yourself on a Friday,” the guy smiled. It didn’t look cruel, neither did it sound like he was making fun. This was already confusing, and Steve wasn’t the greatest with people at the best of times, let alone he around guys he thought were kind of stupidly handsome from afar, and apparently just stunning close up.

Steve just nodded and shifted in his seat slightly since this guy clearly wasn’t going to go away any time soon. He didn’t have anything on the table in front of him, didn’t even look like he had a backpack for the potential of anything. The odd feeling was definitely strong and getting stronger. “Can I… can I help you with something?”

“That depends,” the book was quickly tossed aside and the guy nudged closer with his chair, Steve could smell his cologne. It didn’t smell like anything he’d tried before. It was floral but dark and spicy, but also fruity too. Slightly burnt lemon and vanilla loaf? His hand wrapped easily around Steve’s freer one. His skin was warm, a little rough maybe from weightlifting which he clearly did, applying a comforting amount of pressure. Steve couldn’t help the skin on his arm breaking out in goose pimples. He glanced at their hands together and his throat felt impossibly tight. “I’m Billy by the way.”

“Steve...”

“Great. So, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but things can be a little, strange around here-”

Steve glanced at their hands again, felt that blue steel bore into his eyes and further back. “Oh they’re strange alright…”

“You ever wondered why?” This guy, Billy, grinned something devilish and let Steve’s hand go only to put it on his knee, squeezing firm but not unpleasant. Steve was sure he was starting to sweat under the attention of all this. Yeah he had fooled around with a couple guys drunk at parties, stumbled into a dorm room or two he didn’t recognise to have some fun and wake up with carpet burns over his back and his knees, but this felt very direct. Especially when Billy’s hand started slowly drifting higher. Steve couldn’t even say he didn’t want it, he’d been staring at this guy from a distance for months now, but to have him suddenly be right in front and touching with obvious intent. It was something else.

“Uh, n-not really. Sometimes maybe?”

Billy’s eyes turned from cool to blazingly erotic in an instant, for just a moment, then back to cool again. He nudged even closer into Steve’s bubble, who was more helpless than a fish on dry land at this moment. 

“Would you like to know why?” The way Billy’s tongue licked over the L was something filthy. If Steve had been set jello before he was now quickly melting into a sweet pool of tangy cherry. “My friends and I can show you.”

Steve felt like he was drowning. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be happening. But still BIlly’s firm hand crept ever higher until he was practically cupping Steve through his jeans, inching closer until their lips were connected in the middle of the library. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed. He was already boiling alive in his skin from all the attention and Billy’s lips weren’t helping. They were as plush as Steve had imagined. Maybe not in the right area just yet but with the way Billy was pushing his palm directly against Steve’s slowly awakening dick they just might be soon.

He was half hard when Billy pulled away, flushed bright red like he’d been sunburnt.

“Come by the house tomorrow night, you’ll see. We promise you’ll enjoy it.” 

With that, Billy winked, slipped his sunglasses back on and left. Steve blinked at nothing for a long time, trying to piece together what the hell had just happened to him.

Did… did he just get invited to an orgy?

He packed up quickly and went back to his dorm, there was no way any studying was going to happen now. It didn’t happen throughout all of Saturday either. Just the memory of the whole short incident rolling around and around in Steve’s mind, of Billy’s words dripping from those lips and the feel of his hand pressing just right.

He’d definitely gotten invited to an orgy.

He lay on his bed for a while just thinking, tapping his forefingers together as something for them to do. Steve was kind of flattered really, he knew he was nice looking, but there were far better looking guys on campus, and from the stories he’d heard they’d probably be up for it no questions asked. It also popped into his head that the guys he’d seen wearing the orange Omega jackets were a lot more jacked than he was, and Steve had seen enough porn to know what that probably meant. A part of him knew this was utterly insane. Shit like this didn’t happen without a bored camera crew and fourteen different close up angles.

But then maybe it did happen. He was from a small town after all. He was pretty sure his neighbours three doors down were swingers from all the cars that would suddenly appear once a month for just a night. Least that was the rumor that he may or may not have pushed a couple times. And, afterall, wasn’t this what college was about? Being out there and experimenting with crazy shit you wouldn’t do in the real world. He’d taken ecstasy in his first few weeks at a warehouse party, he had no desire to do that back home.

So, maybe he was warming up to the idea of being a bottom at an orgy party being held in the weird grey frat house. Who was anyone to judge? Steve just wasn’t going to tell anyone about it, that’s all.

He felt nervous standing on the front steps of the Omega House. All the blinds were drawn inside. He didn’t know what to bring, what was customary? It didn’t feel right to bring, like, snacks, so he’d just brought himself, already flushing and trying not to get hard by just the thought of Billy getting his hands on him again, how good he must look naked and sweating, finding out what those lips could really do.

The man himself answered the door after two sharp knocks. The grin he wore was sinful, eyes wild and excited, grip firm as he pulled Steve easily inside the dark room. Steve wasn’t sure what to expect, but low mood lighting, a coffee table in the middle of three couches covered in books and blank papers, and every other surface holding up thick lit candles dripping with wax wasn’t it. It also appeared to be just the two of them.

It wasn’t entirely what he had signed up for. But Steve wasn’t exactly complaining.

“Man, am I happy you actually came,” Billy started, pulling his letterman off and hanging it over the banister like a coat hook. His black tee had the sleeves ripped off, his arms were nothing short of statue worthy. He ruffled his hair a little, the curls bobbing just so. They looked delightfully soft. “The rest of the guys are at some sorority bullshit, but they’ll be here later.”

“Uh, o-okay, cool.” Steve tried to sound confident as he went to go take a seat on one of the couches. Billy sat next to him, up close and personal again and it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He was radiating body heat which Steve wanted to eat up greedily. He noticed some of the books on the table. A copy of Frankenstein, a very old looking copy of Dracula, maybe second edition, a copy of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, and copies of both Malleus Maleficarum and A Guide to Modern Witchcraft. Those titles mixed with all the candles and the mood lighting and Billy’s staring and frankly demonic grin led Steve down the path that seemed the most obvious to him.

This was a sex cult house. And it was about to get all Rosemary’s Baby up in here.

Billy’s hand was back on his thigh again, heavy and pressing, taking Steve out of his deep barrel of thoughts. The grin was back on his tanned features. “You look nervous.” He gave Steve’s thigh a squeeze. Even though he had no idea what was going on it still made his cock jump alert in his jeans.

“Well, I’ve never exactly been to… one of these before…”

Billy’s eyebrows furrowed together a little, he still wore a smile though. It suited his face. “One of what?”

“You know...?” Steve rolled his hands as his face turned ever redder. He was sure it could almost be seen from space. He wasn’t a prude by any means, but growing up in quite a strict household meant he just struggled saying some things out loud. So he whispered it instead. “...an orgy?”

Billy stared at him for a moment before breaking into laughter that wasn’t at all humiliating. He must have sensed Steve’s rapidly growing discomfort and indignity because the laughter quickly died and turned more into gentle questioning. “Did you think that was what this was gonna be?”

“Well I don’t know what else this would be!” Steve spat out in frustration. He hated not knowing the whole story and here he felt he barely even knew the first line of the novel. Billy smiled warm like a summer day and cupped his cheek. He felt instantly calmed, being swallowed up by those cool blues like a gentle river on an August afternoon.  “I said I’d explain about all the odd things that happen around campus. They’re from us in this house. We’re kind of, different.”

“Different how?”

Billy took his hand back and snapped his fingers loud and piercing. All the candles extinguished themselves at once. Not a breeze to be felt. It wasn’t scary, or spooky, but it was pretty cool. “Different different. You’re the only person who’s seemed to notice. And, by house law, that means you get initiated. You get to know that we’re all witches.”

The word hung in the air and seemed ridiculous. But, at the same time, it didn’t. It did certainly explain how chargers and post its and pencils would suddenly just appear whenever Steve needed them. He still wasn’t completely convinced though.

“Witches?” He repeated back carefully, just in case he’d heard that wrong too. Billy nodded and clapped his hands. Every candle reignited themselves, flickering back to life one by one in a circle around the room. A bottle of whiskey and cans of coke appeared on the table where there had been just papers before. The books remained. There was a proud look on his face. Short of being drugged at the door and this all being a crazy fever dream, this was definitely real. Steve didn’t really have any reason to not believe his eyes and what was happening around him. Billy didn’t look like David Copperfield that was for sure. “So, not an orgy?”

“No. Not an orgy.” Billy chuckled and repeated back. He must have seen Steve’s face go from confused to understanding to a little disappointed all within the space of a few seconds because his hand was high on Steve’s thigh again. Maybe the guy just didn’t understand personal space? That seemed growingly likely. “I don’t think I’d wanna share you anyway.”

Steve felt the flush on his face again, but he grinned through it this time. Weird, spooky, otherworldly shit could be saved for later if there was even a chance of getting what he’d been thinking alone in his bed. “But you’d wanna maybe...?”

He let the question stay floating between them as Billy smirked lewd and pressed himself up against Steve’s body. “Bet you’d love to find out what I can do with my fingers pretty boy…”

Oh, Steve really would.

#prompt list #my writings #harringrove #billy x steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #college au #was probably about time i did one huh? #sorry i couldn't get the line in exactly but i hope this is still okay

[ghostyprince]

your pantherverse au is beautiful and now im obsessed with ryan sneaking round trying to surprise and prod “mrrrps” outta shane. fic would be adorable if your still open to pantherverse requests 💖

i hope you like this, thank you for the prompt, it’s so hecking cute❤ also it’s mostly my friend’s @josemorningstar‘s au tbh, i just help in with it. (he’s happy to answer asks about it too!)

read on AO3

Ryan puts a finger to his lips, twisted into a grin, in a shushing motion, and then he taps the flip camera icon on his phone. Shane’s frame from behind pops up on the screen, sitting on his office chair, legs crossed. He’s editing a photo, probably for a thumbnail, and it’s one of those rare occasions when he’s so focused he doesn’t even hear Ryan walk up behind him.

Ryan is moving slowly, putting one foot after the other with the ease of a predator, skilled in sneaking up on his prey. That is Shane and he does not suspect a thing. Perfect.

The footage shows Ryan reaching out, just as carefully, before going in quick, making contact with Shane’s back, splaying out over the thin fabric of his shirt.

Ryan holds his breath as he does so and a heartbeat later—

Yeah, there it is. Shane jumps, a little sound escaping his lips, a sound that makes Ryan’s grin grow impossibly big. It’s one of his favorites, he’d die happily hearing it.

It’s a mrrp, a sound plenty of cats make when touched unexpectedly, but Ryan’s favorite is the one Shane does. So, of course, he tries to scare or surprise him as often as he possibly can.

He only puts it on Instagram because the whole experience of Shane making that noise is a blessing upon this world that needs to be shared. Well, not too often, Ryan would still like to keep most of the occasions he actually managed to surprise Shane into a mrrp to himself.

He stops recording after he zooms in on Shane’s very much unamused expression, accompanied by Ryan’s belly laugh. He barely had time to pull his phone down and duck out of the way of one of the smaller Paddington plushes flying towards him. Another set of giggles bubble up from his chest before he realizes what Shane actually threw at him.

“Hey, I got that from a fan, asshole!” He scoffs, going to pick poor little Paddington up and set him back on his desk carefully.

“That’s what you get for being a dick,” Shane says, chin propped up in his palm, focusing on his laptop again. There is a flush high on his cheeks and Ryan, once again, can’t contain his satisfied grin. Shane is blushing! He’s blushing and he’s fucking sulking, at that!

Easily the best thing he’s seen all day and it’s only 10 AM.

“But it’s so cute, Shane. Gotta share it with the fans!”

“It’s not fucking cute.” Shane murmurs. He sounds like he’s mad but Ryan catches a glimpse at the hint of a smile behind his fingers.

He knew he won immediately.

“I won’t post it if you don’t want me to.” Ryan offers because he’s a good friend. And he also knows how sensitive Shane is about the sounds he makes, due to having broken meows in his cat form. Ryan personally thinks it’s the sweetest thing ever, but Shane is stubborn as hell.

“Go ahead,” Shane says, letting out an exasperated sigh as if he’d be doing a huge sacrifice. What a drama queen. “I suppose at the very least people will see just how gone you are over me.”

He adds, with a smug drawl to his voice, and it had the desired effect because Ryan’s stomach does a little flip. The one specific flip it got used to doing ever since they’ve started playfully flirting with each other, just tethering on the edge of too much or too dangerous. On the edge of their friendship, before it evolves into something more. More serious, romantic, sexual, just more.

Ryan is still trying to catch his breath after that whole interaction as he settles back in his chair, to edit and post the video on Instagram.

He wonders when they will finally say fuck it, and jump over that line between friendship and something more together.

Or, because it’s them, the Ghoulboys, when will one of them finally drag the other over that line?

The next time Ryan gets the urge to make Shane do that wonderful little noise is when they’re filming the newest season of True Crime.

They’re about thirty minutes in and Ryan is reading his script, then coming to a pause to look at Shane and give him an opportunity to react. But Shane isn’t really looking at him. In fact, he’s just staring right in front of him, so deep in thought, Ryan isn’t sure he’s even in his body anymore.

Normally, Ryan would be concerned, and he is, to a degree, but he knows how hard Watcher has them working at the moment, the anxiety, that their whole company might be a flop. It had a toll on both theirs and Steven’s mental health. Not to mention their sleep schedules.

So it’s not unusual Shane is zoning out, especially while Ryan is trying to talk about some pretty heavy murder case. Ryan does see an opportunity, however, to have a little fun with Shane not paying attention to him.

Everyone kind of just stopped, including TJ, but before he could say anything, ask Shane if he’s okay, Ryan is reaching out, pointer finger extended. He holds his breath, the corner of his lips already lifting into a huge grin and then his finger makes contact with the side of Shane’s face.

And Shane jumps. He flinches more than Ryan had ever seen him, and he’d feel a little bad if it weren’t for that ‘mrrp’. It’s so loud, is the thing and it makes Ryan’s heart sing in happiness.

He bursts out laughing, head thrown back and his whole body bowing into it. There is some laughter from the crew too, but Ryan is too busy looking at Shane, all bright smile and shining eyes, despite Shane’s expression being pissed.

Ryan knows it’s not too serious, he has gotten used to that expression, with how much he’s been a brat lately, at every opportunity he gets, to get a reaction, anything out of Shane.

“Very funny, can we go back to the murked guy now?” Shane asks, trying and failing at covering up his embarrassment.

And well, Ryan could point out how he’s been the one zoning out, but it has no use, Shane is annoyed already, and Ryan does know not to go too far sometimes. He’ll make it up to him later by buying him lunch or something.

“Sure thing, big guy.” He says instead, shooting him one last smile, full of warmth and fondness and it might improve Shane’s mood just a little.

It’s going to be another story for Instagram, and then it will remain a video on Ryan’s phone, sitting there for ages, for him to hit up sometimes and smile about, ear to ear. Show Shane, maybe, as they’re chilling together at Ryan’s, or Shane’s, maybe their own apartment together at that point.

Fuck, they’ve only been officially a Thing for a few days and Ryan is already daydreaming about their future, years down the line. Well, can anyone put the blame on him, really? When Shane is sleeping next to him like that, so unbothered, beautiful in the setting sun that filters through the plane’s tiny window.

His face is smooth, and Ryan has the weirdest urge to kiss his nose, or the small cluster of freckles right above his right eyelashes, or Shane’s slightly parted lips, huffing little breaths of air. He thinks it may be the honeymoon phase of their relationship, all of it being so new. Ryan is simply overwhelmed with the fact that he could do all of that now, and more if he so pleases. On the other hand, he doesn’t think he will ever stop being giddy about that. Or how soft Shane looks when he’s sleeping.

Ryan took a picture of him before he started recording too, it’s easily one of his favorite photos of Shane. And then, because Ryan Bergara is an insufferable little shit who has to entertain himself on the boring plane ride, he figured he might as well try to make Shane do that sound again.

The very first time he shared it with the internet in the form of that office video everyone loved it. So, Shane’s little cat noise had been high demand, people kept tweeting and commenting and yelling at him absolutely everywhere to upload another one of those videos.

And well, who is Ryan Bergara to deny them?

He raises the phone higher, to frame Shane perfectly, and carefully removes his hand from where it was resting, on top of Shane’s. Luckily, he didn’t react to that.

Ryan takes a few minutes, to think about how he’d like to approach it. Simply touching Shane has been done, he should do something more original.

He could poke his nose. Or tickle his neck. Ryan hums and his gaze happens to drift over to Shane’s hair. He could just bury his hand in his hair like he would with a cat’s fur.

He starts recording again, and the mic picks up his amused little chuckle.

“Part two for you folks, here we go.” He announces in a hushed tone before carefully reaching out to bury his fingers into Shane’s oh so soft locks, carding through it, maybe way too lovingly for it to be taken as a friendly gesture.

And then, there it is.

Shane lets out Ryan’s favorite noise and Ryan is fucking overjoyed. Up until Shane full-on tilts his head into Ryan’s hand as he lets out an enthusiastic purr, and Ryan forgets to breathe.

“Ohmygod.”

The words are punched out of his lung, in one breath, smushed together, and when Ryan would listen back to his voice later he would realize how in awe and disgustingly in love he sounded just then.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He ends the video, almost abruptly. His other is still brushing through Shane’s hair, subconsciously, scratching at his scalp with gentle fingers. He feels Shane shudder and then brown, sleepy eyes are blinking back at him. Shane’s purrs go quiet but it reverberates through his chest ever so slightly. Ryan can feel it when his hand drops onto Shane’s nape, tangling into the long strands of hair there too, pulling just a bit, just to feel Shane shudder again, hear the soft growl coming from the back of his throat.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me horny.” He murmurs and Ryan wheezes, but complies. Reluctantly.

“Did you just take a video of me, by the way?” Shane asks, rubbing a hand down his face, tired. Ryan feels it too, the exhaustion as he looks at his friend, business partner, boyfriend. They’ve really been through an awful lot these months, with Watcher, currently shooting the new season of Supernatural.

But they could always take a nap together.

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. We’ll talk about it later. Go back to sleep, big guy.” Ryan tells him quietly, pocketing his phone and well, who is Shane to say no to that?

So he does, slipping as far down his seat as his Sasquatch legs would allow him, so he can rest his cheek against Ryan’s shoulder, using him as an impromptu pillow. Ryan does not complain at all.

They would talk about the video, later, when they would be in their hotel room.

Well, it isn’t much of a talk at all, it’s more of Shane watching the video while Ryan worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He shouldn’t even be nervous. He’d understand if the video would end up in his drafts for a few months still, years even.

Then Shane looked up at him, with that incredibly annoying, unreadable expression on his face, before leaning in to press a kiss to Ryan’s cheek. “It’s cute, you should post it.”

That’s all he says, in the most nonchalant way possible and Ryan would like to hit him a little bit for that.

Regardless, the video ends up uploaded onto his feed instead, because it deserves to be there, not just for a day, but for a good while, to mark the beginning of a new chapter of sorts.

It deserves a caption just as monumental, so there are no misunderstandings or a flood of questions later on.

ryanbergara: Part 2 of annoying the boyfriend 💖

Ryan wakes to the sunshine burning his eyes, still feeling as sleepy when he and Shane went to bed last night as he checks his phone. It’s way too early in the morning for either of them to be awake.

And yet, here they are. Here is Shane, turned in a way that Ryan can see the expanse of his back Ryan loves to admire. He sweeps his gaze over his favorite freckles on Shane’s back and the dip of his waist disappearing under the covers. The sunlight drapes over Shane’s back invitingly, making it seem warm, soft and kissable.

He kissed all those freckles many times, and he still can’t get enough of the sight of them, not even so many years later.

He still can’t get enough of waking up next to Shane, seeing him first thing in the morning. Ryan’s heart flutters every time, he simply cannot help it.

There is a faint light coming from the other side of Shane, bouncing off of his hair, suggesting he’s on his phone.

And that won’t do, Ryan is awake and he needs attention.

He moves, swiftly fitting himself behind Shane, with one strong arm wrapping around his waist under the covers securely.

“Mrrp!”

The sound lets something loose in Ryan and he melts behind Shane, his hold tightening around him has Shane complaining in the form of a groan.

Ryan doesn’t care one bit though, he’s purring loudly now, much deeper and powerful than Shane’s purrs normally are, considering he’s a panther. It must reverberate through Shane’s whole body because he relaxes, pressed into Ryan’s chest and head falling back on Ryan’s shoulder.

His hand finds Ryan’s, long fingers curling around his, lacing together and knocking their matching silver rings together in the process.

“You’re crushing me, dumbass.” Shane laughs, quietly, fondly, in contrast to his words.

“Mhm, don’t care.” Ryan hums, pressing a chaste kiss on Shane’s shoulder and hugging him even closer, to prove a point.

“Sure you don’t. Go on, suffocate your poor husband if that’s what I deserve! For being your faithful lover for years and—” Shane cuts himself off with another groan of complaint, attempting to turn out of Ryan’s arms when he has the audacity to wheeze into Shane’s neck.

Yeah, Ryan wouldn’t have it any other way.

#shyan #shyan fic #shyan fanfiction #skeptic believer #pantherverse #prompt fill #fanfiction #fanfictions #answered #asks #anon #anonymus #thank you so much for the prompt

[daffodilon]

cafune

cafuné - (brazilian portuguese)

"the act of running your fingers through your lover's hair; among the few words that cannot be directly translated into english"

Pairing: Jungkook / ♀ Reader Rating: M for Mature Genre(s): 🍭 Fluff, 💔 (like five seconds of) Angst, 🔞 Smut WC: 9,458 Warnings: Sexual content, porn with feelings, dry humping, like i’m talking thigh riding, coming in pants, dirty talk, discussion of exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics if you squint, baby boy jungkook, uhhh swearing, mentions of drinking to the point of blacking out. God this sounds filthy but I promise it’s #soft If there’s anything I’ve forgotten to warn for please bring it to my attention!! I haven’t slept in two days I’d appreciate the help. This isn’t beta’d, either, so watch out for that too, I guess

Summary: [A kiss-and-confess in an alternate universe, originally written as part of a much larger chapter fic, my library/roommates au. It took off in another direction and no longer fits within the scope of that timeline, and the scene had to be re-written. So now this is a standalone getting-together oneshot, because it was too cute of a concept to scrap.] TL;DR: talking to Jungkook about your Feelings™ and making out for like 8k words. It’s, like, slowburn without the slow. So I guess that makes it... all... burn... 🔥 👀

p 01, 02

Theoretically, there’s a big difference between a kiss and a cup of tea. One might even call it obvious. 

Indeed in practice, there’s a big difference between a kiss and a cup of tea.

Both in theory and in practice, kisses and teacups are difficult to confuse.

The point is, don’t ask how the hell you managed to screw that one up, because you don’t know, either.

What you know is, you knocked on Jungkook’s open bedroom door after putting the electric kettle on for yourself.

What you know is, he waved you in from where he sat on the bed, and you crossed the floor to peer over his shoulder at what he was working on, and he let you lean in close enough to glimpse the video editing program he had open for a quick look before he pushed the laptop closed and asked you how your day was.

What you know is, you gave him the radio edit, secured a promise from him to let you watch his project when he was finished, and then offered to bring him some tea, if he wanted any.

What you know is, he beamed at you in reply, eyebrows way up under his bangs, and he asked you for green tea.

Then, you grinned and told him, “Of course.”

Then, you turned to go. Your brain said, “Give him a cup of green tea.”

Now, theoretically, you know the difference between a kiss and a cup of tea.

Theoretically.

You kiss him instead.

It’s soft, and sweet with pent-up affection and syrupy endearment, and extremely quick.

It catches up with you pretty quick, after that. The fact that you’re awake, right now. The fact that you really did that, in real life, without a warning, without a word of precedent.

Your first instinct here is to get the hell out of dodge, and through the welling panic you make to get up and do just that, foolishly hoping you could avoid the consequences of your actions that way, or maybe at least postpone them.

Plan A doesn’t work out.

Thanks to his reflexes, Jungkook catches your wrist as soon as your eyes widen in realization and you move to slip off the bed and bolt. He stops you. Begs you oh, god no, don’t you dare to that to me, you can’t just kiss me and run away. Please, please don’t do that to me.

There’s nothing you can do but sit down again and he says, “I'm sorry but would you please, please talk to me. What- What was that?”

So you gather up every last shred of courage in your body to give him what he deserves: honesty. This isn’t Plan B. This isn’t even Plan C, but you no choice but to tell him.

How he’d looked so darling, all in white, sitting an arms length away. Warm and beautiful and relaxed, all fluffy hair and soft edges. That old, old familiar low simmering want had ballooned, expanded until the pressure maxed out and finally, finally burst. There wasn’t space inside your physical body to contain the expanse of it anymore, and you’d gone ahead and. Leaned down and kissed him.

But for any of that, you need words, and they aren’t making themselves available. Your useless brain churns out miserable sensation after miserable sensation, instead. You can feel the aftershocks of the inner explosion making your fingers tremble. Blood rushes in your ears, making your own voice sound like you’re underwater.

Words finally begin to tumble off your lips, but not the right ones.

“Oh, god. I’m, so, so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, I- Jungkook, the truth is I'm in- uh. Like you? I like- love you. And. I got- caught up... I don’t know.”

One, two, three exceptionally long beats elapse. You think mildly that maybe this is the worst you’ve ever felt, recalling hangovers, recalling being stood up on a date when you were seventeen, recalling crying into Jimin’s shirt after Seokjin’s party. This train of thought continues until he demands,

“Say that again, without the apology. Tell me again, don’t say you’re sorry.”

So you tell him, again, but you’re about three beats per minute shy of cardiac arrest. You’re no doctor, but you’re reasonably sure.

“Jungkook, I'm in love with you. I’m s- wait, no, sorry, I'm. Shit. I should- do I start over? I’m,” You look up at the ceiling, blinking back the traitorous tears welling in your eyes and sigh once, “I’m so in love with you,” you finally get out, helplessly, only to get a shaky exhale in reply, and have to wait in excruciating silence for a number of seconds, while Jungkook works through his disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping maybe if you close them tightly enough, the tears threatening to overflow will stay trapped. It’s a good effort, but it doesn’t work.

Then you hear, between many stops and starts, “I’ve... um,” He clears his throat, so you open your eyes again, since you’re clearly fighting a losing battle here anyway, in time to see him reaching for your hand before drawing back at the last moment, unsure. “Kind of, always been... yours. Like, this whole time?” Which... what the hell does that mean? “I’ve... I’m... I didn’t think- I was so scared that- I just. It’s just that you have no idea how many times I've imagined you saying that to me. And literally... not a single one of those times did I ever imagine you would be apologizing for it in the same breath. Please tell me again.” You’re pretty sure you’re physically shaking at this point, but it’s good that he’s asking you for simple things, one at a time, seeing as your brain has shut off. Checked out, right before you decided kissing him was a good next move.

You force yourself to make eye contact with him as you say, “I- Okay. I love you? I’ve been in love with you since... for so long now. All right? So please, what the hell does that mean, ‘I've always been yours?’ You’ve always... you’re what?”

“I mean I'm yours. I mean I love you. I love you, too. Will you please kiss me again, so I can kiss you back, because I've been sitting here these past five minutes freaking out about this whole situation but also the fact that you probably think I'm a terrible kisser? Because of just now? I’m sorry, I just, the shock-  and I'm not. I swear to god, I promise, I'm not, so please-”

You kiss him again, cutting him off mid-word, and, yep, oh, there’s a clear difference once he’s had time to react. He’s true to his word. But-

“Yeah, I know,” you murmur against his lips after a minute. The giddiness is finally beginning to catch up with you. Jungkook opens his eyes, it appears, with some effort.

“I- you what?” Holy fuck, he looks far away. It takes him a second to come back to himself enough to ask, “What do you mean?” His eyelids are heavy, and you can see his gaze trained on your mouth. The incredible way he looks this fucked out after a few seconds of kissing is really, really fucking distracting, and you almost forget what you were going to say.

“I know. I remember.” It’s not difficult to give in to the temptation to chase his lips again, between sentences, and you allow yourself to nip at his lower lip, like you’ve wanted to for so, so fucking long. But you do want to tell him, “Christmas,” before falling back into him again.

And Jungkook, poor thing, for all he’s good at kissing —giving as good as he gets and making your eyes want to roll back in your head and let him take, take, take what he wants— for all he’s very, very good at that, he’s just a little bit shit at multitasking. Carrying on this conversation is clearly, by degrees, becoming more and more difficult. You note with a little satisfaction that his chest is heaving slightly when he pulls back again, eyes still closed, but with a crinkle in his brow and his pretty, pink, kiss-swollen lips turned down at the corners in confusion.

“Christmas.” You can see him trying to remember, and yeah, you expected that, but. Ouch, anyway. You force yourself not to dwell on the number of times you’ve mentally re-lived that night, times he clearly hasn’t.

“Mhmm.” It’s too much to resist dipping back down for yet another quick kiss in between words. You’re getting addicted to it, it’s already clear. “‘S okay. You were pretty drunk,” you supply, pressing another kiss to the freckle beneath his lip, nosing along his jaw, kissing the skin there with every ounce of tenderness that’s taken up residence in your heart, piling up higher and higher over the past year, affection distinctly tinged with a powerful rush of relief overflowing in this moment as if to make up for how painful the past ten minutes were.  

“Christmas... kissed you?” Jesus, he sounds wrecked. Might as well be drunk now, at two pm on a Sunday. “Kissed you... mistletoe?” A modicum of clarity makes its way into his tone, as you reach the soft patch of skin below his ear and graze your teeth there, and you’re pressed up so close against him that his full body shudder wracks you as well. A fresh flutter of butterflies almost makes you gasp, in response. You’d been completely sure he didn’t remember that night at all. “That was... at Christmas there was, I was, so much-” His breath catches as you kiss your way down his neck, giving special attention to the mole there, “So much eggnog. I was so sure that- that was a dream.”

“Mmm mm. Nope.”

“Not a dream?” Your kisses make their way along to the other side of his neck, kissing back up, toward the corner of his jaw, angling to get his breath hitching again, and it works, up until he wrenches his head to the side with effort, leveraging his hand, which had made its way into your hair while you weren’t paying attention, to move your head where he wants it, with his lips properly brushing yours again as he says, “Hang on a second. Hang on... No? Are you sure?” Jungkook’s voice has taken on a hoarse note you weren’t expecting. This, combined with the firm grip he has on your hair has a moan slipping out of your mouth before you can clamp your jaw shut, but you have to scoff.

“Am I sure? That that was a thing I lived through? Yes, Jungkook I'm sure.” His eyes are boring into yours, now.

He’s maneuvering you both, now, careful not to pull too hard on your hair, but not relinquishing his grip, either. Before you know it, you’re on your back, propped up against the pillows with Jungkook’s body caging you in from above. He kisses you again, harder, and hotter, a kiss that has you chasing his lips when he retreats far enough to continue,

“Wow. Okay back up a little bit, I need you to tell me what happened, then, because I have a memory and its...,” —another searing kiss, “Let’s just say it can’t be accurate from start to finish. Call it wishful thinking.” He pulls back again, to read your expression. You aren’t sure what he sees there, but it’s probably something along the lines of pure want. Probably. “I was definitely blacked out from Seokjin’s horrible rum concoction. Help me out here?’”

You take a moment to give yourself the benefit of a steadying inhale, because it’s very, very difficult to think straight under these conditions. Under Jungkook conditions. Literally under Jungkook, is your current condition. Jesus, his eyes are so, so dark. Your imagination straight up fails to even speculate what he could mean by that, tapping out before you can even try. It’s too much to think about.

“What? I don’t know what that means. What do you remember happening? Or think you remember happening?”

It was worth a try, but you get only a shake of his head.

“Nope. You first. What do you remember?”

“I um. We both went to Seokjin’s for his Christmas party?” Jungkook, to his credit, seems to quickly register that you’re having a little difficulty relating events back to him, and takes a measure more pity on your kiss-clouded mind than you on his, a moment ago. He must genuinely be invested in your answer, because he backs up a little, sitting back on his heels with his knees on either side of your hips. You miss him immediately, and try very, very hard not to make any sort of embarrassing whine in protest, and succeed... mostly.

“Uh huh. I remember being sober-ish at that point.” Jungkook corroborates, kindly ignoring the noise you made, except to smile to himself as he reaches for your left hand with his right, intertwining your fingers. This simple gesture somehow makes your heart flip again, even harder than at any other point tonight. You need his weight back, want his mouth again, so you rush a little through your version of events, noting certain major details.

“You wore dorky cardboard reindeer antlers.” His eyes flit up and to the right, clearly searching for a matching memory.

“... Oh. Uh huh.”

“We played some drinking games with Tae, plus some other people, got tipsy.”

“Mmm.”

Jungkook has drawn your interlocked hands up to his face, and begun to press featherlight kisses to the side of your thumb, the inside of your wrist. Your heart rate immediately doubles, and you note with a healthy dose of chagrin that he must be able to tell, with his soft mouth at your pulse point. The fresh rush of want and embarrassment that follows has you reeling, and when you go to continue, you find yourself stuttering. You can see clearly on his face that this leaves Jungkook feeling smug, but you don’t have the will to challenge him over it at the moment.  

“I- I was also a little. A bit drunk. Then... I lost track of you for a little while, and then suddenly you were back.” You’re jumping ahead in the story now, but you can’t be blamed, because Jungkook’s mouth is tracing a soft, measured line down the inner skin of your forearm, making your heart start and stop. You had no idea that area would even be sensitive. You’re reasonably sure you’ve never been kissed there, before. “So it was me and you, in the kitchen,” you continue, reminding yourself to breathe, “And. uh. Um. Seokjin and his friend wouldn’t stop trying to get us both back out into the living room, and I couldn’t understand why, until finally,” Jungkook’s kisses reach your inner elbow, and he’s pressing closer again, eyes closed. He’s not currently watching your face, which helps you refocus enough to go on, “Finally I got it, only after we’d been shepherded over to the fireplace. And I looked up over your head and I saw the mistletoe, and I thought, this is it, this is the day I finally murder Kim Seokjin.”

When Jungkook huffs a laugh at this, the gust of warm air from his breath makes goosebumps break out all over your skin, and his eyes slot open to sparkle at you from a foot away, mouth still pressed to your upper arm. He’s smiling, and his next kiss to your bicep is tinged with a hint of teeth as he hums for you to continue. You do your best to keep your voice from sounding strangled. “But I looked down from the mistletoe to your stupid fucking antlers, and they were crooked? So I just. Um. I reached out and at first I thought I was just going to fix them. And then I. That’s not what I did.”

“No, it isn’t, is it?” Now Jungkook’s close enough to kiss on the mouth again, so you close the distance, too needy, too earnest. But he kisses back equally as honest, and after a moment, it seems he hasn’t heard enough. “Then what?”

You sigh.

“Then I. Think mostly it was rum driving the bus at that point? I just kind of said, fuck it. And I kissed you, because... because I wanted you.” Which, oops. It’s definitely, one hundred percent, completely true, but you had sort of meant to say “wanted to.” Oh, well.

“That sounds familiar.”

“Yeah?” Even to your own ears, your voice sounds breathless.

“Yeah,” He leans in again, this time only to brush noses and ask, “Tell me again.” It takes you a moment to understand what he wants to hear, but you work it out after a short second.

“Huh? You mean tell you I like you? I’m in love with you, Jeon Jungkook. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Another kiss, warm and soft, heavy with what feels like the weight of a lot of pent-up want and postponed feelings. You figure you can take that as a yes.

Jungkook sits back up a little, eyes crinkled and sparkling with his smile as he picks up the previous conversation as if the little detour that put it there hadn’t even taken place.

“I wanted you, too. But I feel like I remember being so drunk I didn’t know where my hands were,” he confides. You wince.

“I... yeah. That’s the thing, I’m so sorry, Jungkook, I could tell you were drunk, I shouldn’t have kissed you when you were so far gone. I- I’ve beat myself up about that since the minute I did it, when I pulled away and the bubble popped and suddenly I could- I could hear all the hooting and whistling.” Your cheeks are definitely coloring at that part of the memory, but this is something you need to get out. “I never should have taken advantage of you like that. I was drunk too, but not as far gone as you were, and I should have-”

“Oh, my god, please. Cut that out. Don’t, don’t don’t don’t do that. Don’t even think about it.,” he cuts you off, “I’ve heard about enough today of you apologizing for liking me. As for the consent thing... I literally- there’s nothing I’ve wanted more in the world, drunk or sober, than to kiss you, for like. The longest time. The most miserable, longest time. I’d consent to you doing... literally anything to me, any time you wanted—” And uh, that is a whole other big issue you don’t even know where to begin to unpack, so you start spluttering, but he rushes ahead before you can formulate a proper argument. “—You could chop my leg off. I trust you.”

This, for some reason, has your breath hitching all on it’s own, “But I realize you had no way of knowing that, until just now. So I'm sorry I let you stew in that guilt this whole time. I swear I really did think... I just couldn’t believe I’d be so lucky. I didn’t know it was real. Just.... you should know my only regret is that I can’t remember it better.” He stops for a moment, searching for your eyes, wanting to make sure you’re getting every word. His tone softens, “I remember wanting you, though. I’ll be honest, I’d forgotten all about the antlers until you brought it up. I remember talking to you in a kitchen... that’s all vague. I just remember thinking I wanted to kiss you so badly, I kept taking sips of eggnog just to have something to do with my mouth. In retrospect, maybe a different solution would have worked out better, because it seemed like every sip made it worse.” Jungkook chuckles, “I remember being so happy you were in my arms I thought I was going to throw up.”

“Oh, God,” you groan, throwing an arm over your eyes, only for him to tug it away, admonishing.

“Hey! No, not like that. Not drunk throwing up. Butterflies throwing up.” You have to roll your eyes, although a smile steals over your face.

“You sure about that? Because they feel pretty similar, in my experience.”

“Oh yeah? In your experience? Had a lot, have you?” He grins at you, making you swat his shoulder petulantly.

“Well, let me think. Seeing as how you like to come home from the gym with every vein in your arms bursting like they’re going to jump out of your skin, with your hair soaking wet, and then crowd all up in my space when I'm cooking, at least four days a week, every week, I'm going to go with —yes,” you gasp, as Jungkook picks that exact moment to utilize his new tactic of tugging your hair just this side of too hard, while also kissing down the side of your neck and biting down.

“You like that I go to the gym.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you huff, after a respectable period of recovery when you can speak again, “I don’t know where all this bravado is coming from when a minute ago you were so sure I couldn’t possibly like you back, you retconned an entire Christmas out of existence.”

“Yeah, well, I’m half convinced I’m dreaming as we speak, so, if I wake up in bed alone again I won’t be surprised.” He says this so matter of factly you have to stop him, pull back for a moment and stare at him incredulously.

“What? No, Jungkook, this isn’t a dream.” He’s already leaning in to kiss you again, eyes slipping closed, so you scoot back, out of reach. You need him to listen. “Jungkook.”

He sits back up, reluctantly, letting you push his shoulder and rearrange your positions so you’re each lying on your sides, facing each other. Less power balance in play this way, legs still securely entangled, one of Jungkook’s hands in two of yours, still close enough to feel each breath he takes tickling the backs of your hands. “Do you have a lot of conversations about dreams within dreams?” you prod a little, trying to make a point, “That’s so meta.”

“I mean, no. This isn’t Inception.”

It’s unexpected, and it has you laughing. “God, I fucking love that movie.”

You extract one hand to hold it up between you.

“Excellent taste, a man after my own heart. High five?”

Jungkook can only really tip forward and try to headbutt your palm with his forehead, because you’re hanging onto the one hand he’s not currently lying on top of and he doesn’t have much of a choice. “But don’t think I can’t tell you’re trying to change the subject. That’s what I remember, one really dreamy kiss that I have literally never been able to forget about every time I've seen you since Christmas. And then I... um. I needed air and I pulled back, and everyone was, uh. I guess it could be called cheering?” You wince at the memory of the cacophony. “It was like being catcalled by barn owls,” Jungkook’s turn to laugh. “Then I think... I just ran? To the bathroom? And uh. Cried for like twenty minutes, did like three extra shots of rum, called an uber. Went home and cried more and fell asleep and woke up to like a million missed calls from Jimin. That’s the night I had. So. What do you remember?”  

“That’s horrible. That doesn’t sound nice at all, I'm so sorry. It was so bad you cried? Jesus Christ.”

“No, it’s not that at all. The kissing you part was, um. Really nice. Like, everything I wanted, nice. But it’s just that... it didn’t mean any of the things I wanted it to mean; it was just a friend kiss. A mistletoe prank kiss our shitty friends pressured us into and I knew that’s all it was to you—” Jungkook begins to protest here, so you correct, “—that’s all I thought it was to you, at the time. Except now I knew what it felt like, and the fact that it would probably never happen again and that was horrible. Is why I c- I cried.” You’ve been avoiding eye contact during this speech, but now you look up again and meet Jungkook’s gaze, and you can see a deep, deep sadness there.

“I am so sorry,” he says again. “Kiss me?” You have to disentangle one of your hands again to achieve it, but you lift one arm and give him another smack on the shoulder without any real power behind it. “Ow. Please?”

“No! What did you mean, ‘wishful thinking?’”

“Kiss first?”

“I swear to god, Jeon Jungkook, if you don’t-”

“-Fine! Fine, I’ll tell you. I just want one kiss and then I promise I will explain.”

“God, needy.” But you’re already leaning forward to catch his lips again. You never have been able to deny him anything he asked for, anyway. Your track record with telling him “No,” is a crapshoot.

You break apart again after falling headfirst back into his warmth and unsteady breathing, working with considerable effort to remain on topic. “It’s sex, isn’t it?”

And abruptly, Jungkook’s blank, wide-eyed panic face confronts your question.

“What? No, what- why- no, that’s not-” A beautiful flush works its way up Jungkook’s neck to his face, spreading across his skin like a glass of red wine toppled over on a tablecloth.

“That’s why you’re so squirrely about telling me, right? It was a sex dream?” You interrupt his stuttering, “Look, Jungkook, it’s fine, it’s not like I haven’t had-”

“No!!” he finally sputters, cutting you off. “I swear, that wasn’t it. I was about to tell- wait. You what? Not like you haven’t... what? Oh, my god.” Now it’s your turn to flush positively scarlet, as Jungkook’s head falls forward until his forehead connects with your collarbones, overwhelmed.

A moment passes. He’s not even saying anything.

Maybe you broke him?

“...Jungkook?”

“Uh huh. Yep, I’m here. Need a minute.”

“O- Okay.” You don’t know what to do, feeling phenomenally awkward, so you begin to tentatively run your fingers through his hair, detangling the strands and combing it softly with your hands. It’s getting long.

Air from Jungkook’s nose washes gently over your neck as he murmurs a pleased noise at the attention, and some muffled words into your throat.

“What?” you ask.

“I said, ‘You’re going to kill me.’”

You’re feeling playful, so you tell him, “At the risk of hyping myself up too much... I think it’s fair to say you haven’t seen anything yet, Jungkook-ah.”

It’s quiet, but you do still managed to catch his whispered, “Fuck,” along with a barely perceptible tightening in his grip where his hands grasp your sides. Then, at a more reasonable conversational volume, “I promise, it’s more like, I wanted to make sure I knew the accurate story first before I talked through what I remember dreaming, it’s not that it’s a sex thing and I’m not embarrassed to tell you about it.”

“Uh huh.” Your skepticism colors your tone well enough to have him lifting his head to let you see the honesty in his face.

“It isn’t!”

“Okay, okay. I believe you,” you tell him, unable to keep the beatific smile from your face at his expression, and he blinks, looking momentarily dazed.

“You have the most beautiful smile,” Jungkook tells you, eyes dropping to your mouth and then back up to meet your gaze, a sweet smile of his own crossing his face as he says it. “Oh my god, I have so many things I can say out loud now.”

Your blush is back with a vengeance, bringing up with it a vaguely hysterical giggle. You spare a brief thought to wonder when was the last time you felt this happy. The ballooning buoyancy of it fills your chest cavity like air in your lungs underwater, dragging your whole body up, up to the surface. You think it could pull you all the way up into the sky if you don’t hang onto the boy in your arms with all your strength to stay grounded. Love like helium in your lungs, his smile like a flame beneath the patchwork balloon and the tactile experience of having your hands in his hair, on his shoulders, body heat shared between you as ballast.

You’re still in this dizzy headspace, trying to imagine how to articulate this feeling to him when he continues, “It’s one of the reasons I first fell in love with you.”

The words are a bellows on the fire feeding all the floaty feelings and the experience is such a shock to your already overloaded system, you don’t know what to say or how to say it, instead continuing to blush to the tips of your ears and pulling him in by the drawstrings of his sweatshirt to connect your lips again.

He seems glad enough to meet you in the middle. He indulges you for a long minute; says, “My version of events is consistent with yours all the way up to mistletoe, I think. I was holding you, and I was finally kissing you, and then the rest of the night is a blur of Hobi-hyung telling me to just sleep in his bedroom, and then I think is where I started dreaming, because you were back. And you told me all kinds of things that I’d always wanted to hear, like this, and you climbed into my bed, like this. And you kissed me, like this. It felt warm, and it felt real, like it always does.”

“Oh, baby...” Is all you can say, and to you it seems ineffectual but hearing it makes Jungkook shudder and press closer. You note it carefully, with a rush of affection.

“It’s okay, though.”

“Do you believe you’re awake now?” you test him suspiciously, and watch him draw back an inch, eyes flitting around the room from himself, to the rumpled duvet, back to you for a beat and a half; then, curiously, he draws forward again, tucking his face under your chin, nuzzling his nose below your jaw where you spray your perfume, and breathes in. Your whole body locks up in response to the sudden closeness, and a wave of heat radiates out all over you directly from your core when you feel the unmistakable sensation of his tongue flitting out in an open mouthed kiss there, and then again, and then again.

“Mm... think ‘s real.” His voice is suddenly so much deeper than you’re used to, and you have to swallow, hard, in order collect yourself enough to speak, and still when you try at first it comes out as a bit of a squeak.

“Wh- What could you possibly have learned from that? Dream me never let you kiss my neck?”

“Oh, no. Not that,” He smiles, and you can’t see him, but you can still tell, because he hasn’t lifted his lips from your skin, and his pretty teeth drag gently over the tendon in your neck. “Dreams can feel real and they can look real, but they don’t smell real. Don’t taste real.”

Jungkook leans up to peck you on the lips, properly, and you’d love to keep looking at his face, shrouded by fluffy, too-long hair, bangs falling in his eyes, skin smattered with precious moles and the barest hint of hair growing in from his most recent shave, which you’ve never been near enough to notice. You’d love to, but your eyes keep slipping shut when your lips meet. It’s hard to fight.

“What does real taste like?” you ask, when you can drag your eyes open again.

Jungkook’s looking right back at you.

“You tell me.”

This time as your mouths meet, you give all your attention to the slide of your tongue against his, dipping between his lips to taste, sucking on his pretty lower lip. It earns you a gasp followed by a very unsteady exhale, and even the breath tastes sweet. You reposition your hands, using the fingers of your right hand to cup his jaw and encourage him to leave it slack and open, so you can lick back in, chase his soft tongue, and control the kiss.

Your observations are as follows:

Number one: Real tastes like --toothpaste. Mint flavored and fresh

Number two: Real tastes like --chapstick. Sugar and citrus, like a lemon hard candy

Number three: Real tastes like --bubblegum, which is actually coming from you and sweetens everything else that much more, and

--A fourth thing, difficult to label. Something your brain could never quite have conjured up, no matter how vivid the dream. Something that could only be intrinsically Jungkook.

Jungkook is breathing hard, some of them breathlessly voiced, almost moans. In the process of pursuing your single-minded goal you’ve managed to tip him on his back, lying short-ways across the bed, the wrong way. It looks to you as though the change in dynamic is affecting him considerably. Heat tinges the tips of his ears and you can faintly see his bangs beginning to stick to his skin. It makes your heart race, lightheaded from the power of it and perhaps a lack of oxygen.

“I think... I think I get it.”

Your words appear to call him back from another place, his eyes opening almost as if from deep sleep, heavy lidded, but with pupils blown, his chest heaving with each labored breath in. A beat passes before he flashes his teeth at you in a swift smile of understanding. You smile back.

It would have been hard, (no pun intended,) from this angle, not to have noticed the situation in Jungkook’s sweats by now, and you’re definitely aware of it. It’s encouraging.

You swing a leg over his body until you’re straddling his waist. You pause, glance at the clock on the bedside table and see that about a half an hour has passed already. You look back again, narrowing your eyes at Jungkook laid out beneath you, then back at the clock, and then bring your hands to the hem of your shirt and lift.

Jungkook only has time to begin to sit up, propping himself up on his elbows by the time you’ve whipped the offending article off, over your hair, like ripping off a band-aid, not giving yourself the chance to worry about doing it. It leaves you in your bra and your jeans, and the cute ankle socks with the little jello blobs on them. Jungkook said he liked these, once.

You don’t have the time to get anxious about not having had enough notice to change into one of your sexier bras, because he’s transferred his weight to one arm, elbow locked behind him, and reached out with his free hand to smooth over your side, wide, warm hand electric on the newly exposed skin, all done as if in a trance, like his hands are moving of their own accord. Gaze glued to you.

“Oh,” he exhales all at once, like all the air has been punched out of him, and, all right, yeah, that’s flattering. It might have something to do with the way your weight settles over his crotch, as well, but that’s neither here nor there. “Oh, wow.” Your tummy flips again, as you wrap your arms around his neck. His hand is still wandering, trailing the backs of his fingers tenderly down over your belly button, to your lower stomach, barely enough pressure not to tickle, then curling his fingers over your hip and stroking with his thumb. The hand travels behind your back, up to the clasp of the bra, where he hesitates, “Can I?”

When you nod your head, your hair moves, brushing your shoulders and poking the bared skin, prompting you to toss your head to the side to relieve the itchy sensation. You reclaim one of your own hands to assist the boy under you with the hooks, and between the two of you, you manage to get the thing done. You hold your breath, nervous, waiting for him to slide the straps from your shoulders, but he seems to sense your impulse to do so and kisses you first.

Slowly, gradually, his mouth moves down along your jaw, to your neck. He drops lingering, open-mouthed kisses all the way down your throat to your clavicles, and across to one shoulder, meeting up with the point where he left off kissing up your arm when you were relating back to him the details of your first kiss together. In the process, your left bra strap is brushed aside gently by his nose as it draws over your skin, and you inhale sharply as he continues down, tonguing the new expanse of skin bared to him, in no hurry, kissing your breast and taking the nipple into his curious, exploring mouth.

Your back arches toward him with no conscious direction from your brain, but Jungkook is there with his free hand pressed firmly against your shoulder blades, pulling your body closer to him anyway. You can feel a moan you’re trying not to vocalize begin to slip out, but Jungkook beats you to it, laving his tongue over your sensitive nipple and groaning out a soft, “Ahh,” followed by a low, rumbling hum before he looks up from under his eyelashes coquettishly and begins to suck. The moan you’ve been holding back escapes without your permission, as your head falls back, all strength in your body and the ability to hold yourself up threatening to fail at once.

The noises his mouth makes are wet and lewd, and if your panties hadn’t already begun to feel uncomfortably hot and sticky some time ago, chafing against the denim at the seams between your thighs, they would have at that. He draws off after a minute, releasing your breast with a filthy sounding pop to give attention to the other. It leaves your bare skin prickled with goosebumps and briefly cold with the saliva from his attention.

Miraculously, your other bra strap still clings stubbornly to your shoulder, the cups still dangling down your front between your bodies until Jungkook’s fingers slide beneath the fabric and finally coax it off and away, allowing you to slip your arms out. He deposits it at the foot of the bed.

With the barrier gone he resumes his ministrations, kissing across your ribs and lingering for a moment directly over your heart, beating at a furious pace as a direct result of everything he’s doing to you. He continues on to lavish all the same attention on your right breast. Seems only fair, to him.

He does want to make use of his other hand, however, and tease you with his mouth and his hands at the same time, so he sits up a little further, pressing forward until you get the hint and sit up to let him rearrange your positions slightly.

You’re pliant in his arms and willing to be maneuvered up to a point, and that point is that you’re ready to no longer be the only one undressed, and you’re impatient to get him out of his baggy hoodie, so you each rise to your knees, face to face, and you slip your fingers beneath the hem of it until your fingers curl over his sides. You find that he’s bare skinned underneath the sweatshirt, and quickly realize with a shiver that knowing intellectually that he doesn’t tend to wear layers under his hoodies is one thing, and it doesn’t compare to knowing it intimately, physically, which is another. His skin is warm, warm and soft beneath the pads of your fingertips.

You’re so overwhelmed to have the opportunity to touch him like this your hands are shaking, but you power through, needing to feel him and know him and make him feel good. You draw your hands further up, feeling the divots in his ribs when he inhales hard and his ribcage expands to contain the breath. The sweatshirt rides up with your hands, gradually bunching and folding until you reach his underarms, brushing soft hair for a second and he lifts his arms to allow you to slip it off, over his head.

His face briefly disappears from view and then reappears on the other side of the collar, hair ruffled and eyes searching for your reaction, your approval or disapproval.

(As if you would ever be disappointed by anything you found under Jungkook’s clothes.)

You run your hands over his swelling pecs, as he takes one deep breath after another, then down over his abs and then back up again to smooth over his shoulders, just trying to drink it all in.

“Jesus Christ, Jungkook,” you whisper in awe, pulling him forward with all your upper body strength to crush his body to yours, and he responds by wrapping his arms around you and crushing you right back. Your lips find his cheek, then his nose, hands on either side of his face to aid your aim as you drop kisses all over it. You let one hand travel down his side to his hip and bring your mouth to his ear, experimentally taking his earring between your teeth and tugging as you manage to leverage one of your thighs between his legs and encourage him to rock down on it, all at once.

The reaction is immediate, Jungkook moans outright in arousal and surprise. You briefly let go of the earring to flick your tongue over the area, and then take it back in your mouth and pull again, gently, and it’s worth it for his body’s response, when you feel his cock jump in his pants where he’s pressed up against your thigh.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah? We like that?”

Jungkook merely groans in reply, and his left hand finds its way down your lower back to your jeans, sneaking under the waistband and then under the elastic of your underwear a few inches to grip your ass in his palm and angle your lower body so he can grind down on you, working his hips slowly, giving himself a little friction and then drawing away. His right hand finds your nipple again, plucking sharply to get you gasping and then pinching and rolling.

You give up moan after moan for him, everything he does to you just feels so fucking good, you can feel the dopamine saturating your brain with every second his hands and mouth are on you. Fuck, but you could get used to this.

You mouth along his jaw to his neck, letting your teeth graze his skin lightly to feel him shiver. Curious, you bite down a little, enough to sting and then lave your tongue over the spot. His hips stutter and you smile to yourself.

“Hey, baby,” you address him, dragging his hips down against you with a little more force.

It earns you a stuttered, “U-Uh- Uh huh?”

You let your mouth travel back up to his ear, ask him softly,

“Do you think you could come like this?” making sure your lips brush his skin as you say it.

“Fuck,” he grits out, letting his head fall forward onto your shoulder, like he lacks the strength in his neck to hold it up anymore. “You can’t just say shit like that.” But his hips work down on your thigh over and over again on their own, so you prompt him,

“But can you?”

“Oh, god. I don’t- I don’t know. Yeah, probably. You’re so hot. I’m so hard. Probably, yes.”

You grin into his hair, “That’s my baby. What a good boy for me.”

And Jungkook... honest to god whimpers against your skin.

Whose life you must have saved in a past reincarnation to deserve this, you don’t know, but you decide just to thank your lucky stars, and back up just a little, to move until you’re lying down against the pillows, right way up in Jungkook’s bed, holding your arms out for him to follow you there.

Jungkook’s head snaps up as soon as you start to move backwards, like he thinks something might be wrong, but he gets the picture quickly and settles his weight over you easily, slotting your leg back between his and grinding down immediately.

He captures your lips in a bruising kiss before breaking it to ask, concern clear in his eyes,

“What about you?” And his hand rests over the button of your jeans, waiting for your permission, but as much as it pains you, you have to shake your head, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

Your eyes find his and you tell him, “Another day, Jungkookie, baby. We don’t have time.” Your eyes flit over to the bedside table with the digital clock on it, ruthlessly bearing the current time, and then back to his face, tilted up at you, open, waiting for an explanation. “Tae will be home in ten minutes. He’s bringing friends.”

A pout forms on Jungkook’s kiss swollen lips. Oh, no. Oh no. “Jungkook, we can’t. Do you want him to walk in on us in the middle of this?” And Jungkook’s eyes suddenly drop from your face like he can’t hold your gaze, but you feel the tell-tale twitch of his cock in his pants. There’s no way you wouldn’t. Jungkook clearly knows this, because he screws his eyes up, shut tight. Oh.

“You do? Oh, Jungkook. Oh, come here, baby.” He resists for the briefest of moments, but he lets you take his face in your hands and connect your lips again, and starts to roll his hips again, a little harder than before, but his eyes stay screwed shut. “You’d be into that, huh? Taehyung coming home and looking for you, coming to see what all the noise is behind your door and swinging it open to see your big, hard cock buried in my dripping pussy?” You pause for a second. “Is this okay?”

Jungkook chokes on nothing, but nods frantically, thrusts speeding up. “I’m so wet, Jungkook. You did that to me. Make me feel so good.” He’s moaning freely, now, face buried in the crook of your neck, one of his hands kneading your breast like his life depends on it. “You know, we didn’t lock the door. He could get home early. Would we hear him come in? Over all that pretty noise you’re making? Do you think we’d hear in time to stop? I don’t think so.”

You give in to the impulse to bury a hand in his hair again, scraping your nails gently against his scalp, brushing his bangs up off his forehead, then gripping a handful at the crown of his head and pulling, a little less gentle this time. Your other hand slips under the waistband of his sweats to take a handful of his ass and help him frot hard against you. You can feel the muscles flexing under your fingers, as he pants open-mouthed, breath fanning hot and damp over your neck.

This is unquestionably the hottest sex you’ve ever had, and you’re not even fucking. Neither of you are even totally naked. But Jungkook moans, brokenly, hips stuttering, and he says,

“I’m... I think I’m gonna come,”

“That’s my good boy, come for me. That’s right. Go ahead and make yourself come for me, baby.”

His face scrunches up and he gets out through gritted teeth, “Hurts,” and you slacken your grip on his hair immediately, ready to let go, but his eyes snap open and his hand flies to your wrist in a blur of motion. “No! Please- Please keep- my hair, fuck, I’m so close. Fuck,” So you wrap your fingers back in the soft, faintly curly strands and tentatively give another tug. “Ngh. Wasn’t- what I meant.” He gestures toward his crotch, and in following his movement you get an eyeful of his v line descending down under his sweatpants, and the fabric has ridden low enough at this point that it’s solely being held up by his straining erection. You can see the beginnings of a trim patch of pubic hair peeking over the waistband, and a distinct dark, wet spot decorates the place where the head of his cock must be. It makes your mouth dry to look at, but you catch his meaning. The friction must be overwhelming.

“Just a little more, baby,” you encourage him. “I know you can do it, you dirty thing. You aren’t wearing underwear, are you, sweetheart?”

Jungkook blushes to the tips of his ears, and with his shirt off you can see the way it travels down, down, all the way over his chest. Mouthwatering.

“I- I wasn’t expecting-”

“That’s what I thought. Just want to be caught, huh? Like the danger of it? The thought that someone might see you with your cock out in your sweatpants and know?” This earns you another whimper.

Then, “You.”

“Hm?”

“You, I wanted you to know. I wanted you to notice. Maybe. If I could be brave enough to... Thought maybe you might- oh, fuck, fuck. Thought you might see, think of me sometime... if you were getting off, by yourself... oh, god.”

Your turn to moan.

“Jesus Christ, that’s so hot.”

“Can you- Can I touch myself? Please, I’m so close, please let me touch myself.”

“Not this time, baby, I want you to come like this or not at all, can you do that for me?”

Jungkook whines louder, hips frantically rutting against you, desperate to come.

You lean and latch your mouth to the juncture behind his jaw that you noted was so sensitive, earlier, working the patch of skin between your teeth and gripping his hair tight at the same time.

With any luck, this is going to leave a beautiful, mottled mark and he won’t forget every time he looks in a mirror, and it’ll be in plain view to everyone else who sees him until it eventually fades. You’ll just have to create new ones, when that happens. The thought that this might happen again in the future between you fills you with a bubbly, giddy joy despite the knowledge that there’s no time for you to get off, this time. It’s all right. You’re playing the long game, here.

Jungkook suddenly tenses up hard and gasps out, “‘M gonna come, please, can I? Oh god, I’m gonna come.”

“Go ahead, baby. My good boy. Come for me.”

And he does, body locking up, every muscle in his abdomen flexing and quivering, veins standing out in his forearms, neck, and forehead, sweat dripping off the line of his jaw. He’s a vision, hovering over you, spilling into his pants and gasping heaving breaths. He opens his eyes in the last couple seconds as come stains the fabric between his legs, staring directly into your eyes. His irises are almost invisible, pupils blown and lids low and heavy. You can’t stop the full body shiver that wracks you from head to toe. That’s an image that’s going to stay with you when you’re alone in a cold bed from now on.

“Kiss me,” he demands. And you do, stroking his hair, gently now, sweeping it back off his forehead and smoothing it behind his ears.

His tongue slips out between your lips lazily, tangling with yours in a soft, sated dance for a long minute, until he appears to lose the ability to hold himself up with his arms and drops all his weight bodily on top of you.

“Oof,” you huff involuntarily. His head has landed conveniently on top of your chest, directly between your boobs. He hums from this position, utterly content, gooey pants and all. “Jungkook.”

“Mm?”

“We gotta get up.”

“Mm mm. No.”

“Tae is due in like, t minus two minutes. I need to change my underwear before company gets here. You need... a tissue and some fresh pants, at the very least.”

“Don’ wanna think about it.”

“Where’s my bra?”

“Nooo,” comes the protest from your, soft, sleepy, sexed out sweetheart. He’s very hard to say no to.

“Come on,” You slap his sweaty bicep to no effect. You really don’t want Taehyung to find you like this. Heaving a deep sigh, you decide it’s time for your last resort.

Your fingers dart to Jungkook’s sides and dig in, tickling him mercilessly. His entire body heaves and twists up off you involuntarily, up and away from your reaching hands.

“Cheating!” he protests through his giggles as you squirm out from under him in the aftermath. You really do need to change your underwear. And probably your pants, too.

You grab your bra and your shirt from where they each landed respectively, putting them back on while Jungkook sits on the bed, looking vaguely put out, pushing out his bottom lip at you.

“Aww,” you coo, coming back over to give him the kisses his expression is crying out for. Petulantly, he kisses back, but continues to pout, even as he scoots to the edge of the bed, making a face as the mess in his pants shifts when he moves, no doubt gross by now.

“I need a shower,” he sighs. “Why did you do this to me?”

You laugh outright at him, and decide he deserves it when you say, “Because you were begging to come, Jeon Jungkook.”

He scrunches up his nose in response, now standing, at least.

“I am getting you back for this.”

“I look forward to it,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him again, slow. You’re not even a little tired of this. Not even close.

Your eyes are closed, but you sense movement near your waist, so you open them, only to see Jungkook shucking his pants, using the bunched up material to wipe up the worst of the cum on his lower belly, and chucking the whole mess into the hamper in the corner. Despite all you’ve done today, this is the first time you’re seeing Jungkook properly naked, and you find yourself blushing and snapping your eyes to the ceiling, looking anywhere else.

He laughs at you, predictably.

“Oh, after saying all that to me, you’re gonna get shy now?”

“It’s different!” you squeak, unable to tell if it’s safe to look back yet.

“What’s different?” Nope, definitely not safe. If anything it’s less safe. His voice is very close to your ear, now. You keep your eyes determinedly locked on the ceiling fan. It needs to be dusted.

“It just is.”

“Because that was in the middle of sex, and now the sex is over, suddenly you’re flustered?” You just nod. “What if sex isn’t over, then? Will you look at me then?”

“Huh?”

And now Jungkook’s hands are on you, thumbing your sides, sliding under the shirt you just put back on. You dare to let your gaze fall back on his face, but no lower.

“I said, ‘What if it isn’t over.’”

“But it is. You just came.”

“You didn’t.”

“You just came!”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“So?”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

He just shrugs one shoulder. “Trust me, I can go again, if that’s what you want. You drive me crazy. But I don’t have to, I want to make it about you.” A pause, where he glances over his shoulder, then, “I’ll lock the door this time.”

It’s a lot to take in. You groan, smoothing your hands over his bare chest and squeezing your eyes shut. Try to remember the reasons it’s not a good idea. It’s difficult. Every fiber of your being wants him.

You give in a little, just enough to kiss him again, allowing your hands to travel down his back, scraping your nails over his skin just a little to feel him groan into your mouth, smoothing your palms over the globes of his ass and squeezing indulgently. You feel his cock, oh, god, perk up in interest already and decide, no, that will have to be enough for now. Giving him one last peck on the lips, you pull away.

“Later,” you promise, smiling.

Jungkook looks disappointed, but he still says, “Fine. Later.” And you can already see his eyes shifting to a darker shade, cogs in his head making plans for you.

You suppress a shiver, and slip out the door.

[Part 2 is now up!]

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #bts smut #jeon jungkook #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #dilon.fic #cafune #daffodilon

[bubert]

he can do it !!

maybe !!

#Trigun #Vash the Stampede #Fanart #same pose as always;; #EDIT: how could I forget his cute freckle ?!? that was the whole point !! #i can't believe it #arts

[celtics534]

Señorita

A cute little Muggle AU to calm down the vibe after Doom Days this week :)

Thanks @thedistantdusk from some awesome edits, @gryffindormischief for being so encouraging with this fic and @bluestwitch for the Spanish help :)

Inspired by Senorita by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello, South of the Border by Ed Sheeran, and Nothing on You by Ed Sheeran. This may become a two-shot, I haven’t decided yet.

Read on: FF.net and AO3

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Harry slid himself into the small corner booth in the back of the cafe. He hadn’t wanted to leave his temporary flat, but coffee had become necessary. For the past two weeks, he’d been assigned to watch a potential sex trafficking ring leader. Harry’s team had discovered the man’s operations in London, but within the last month, word had spread that Norman Zello had gone to Spain for “business.” After gaining clearance from the CNP, Harry and his five-man squad had hopped on the next plane to Barcelona. 

  After two weeks straight of long nights and even longer days, Harry’s lieutenant had ordered him to take forty-eight hours without stepping foot in their base of operations. In other words, Harry now found himself a two day holiday in Spain. 

  He wasn’t much of a tourist; just the idea of going to those crowded spots gave him a headache. No, he’d rather act like the locals and pretend those prime locations didn’t exist-- which was why he’d picked this little hole in the wall cafe. 

  A waitress walked over with his croissant de almendra and café con leche. She gave him a flirtatious smile as she leaned over his table. Harry couldn’t help but look down her deep v neck, his face heating to near the temperature of the coffee. When she walked away, not without a wink and a helpful offer to get him anything else, Harry started researching places to visit. 

  When the little bell over the front door rang out, Harry looked up at the noise. Three beautiful women walked in. One was a tall blonde with blue eyes that reminded him of the ocean around the area. Another was dark haired with legs that seemed to go on for days. But Harry forgot all about them the minute his eyes connected with warm brown ones. 

  She was a petite redhead with freckles that covered every inch of visible skin. She clearly wasn’t from Spain. Her creamy white complexion gave that away. She had a mischievous smirk on her lips that told him he was already in trouble. His heart started to race as her eyes assessed him. Typically Harry wasn’t a vain man, but in that moment he wished he’d spent more time that morning trying to tame his unruly hair. 

 Harry had always had a thing for redheads, and she was already driving him crazy with her long hair and white shirt and blue jeans that skimmed her figure perfectly. When she winked at him, all Harry wanted out of life was to find out her name.

  It took all of Harry’s will power to turn his attention back to his phone. Staring at someone was not an ideal way to make a good first impression. 

  He was reading the tour times for Camp Nou Stadium when someone cleared their throat near him. He looked up and was hypnotized by those coffee-colored eyes again.

  The redhead was smiling down at him. “Hola.”

  Harry’s brain chose that moment to forget everything. Knowledge of how to breathe and speak officially became things of his past. “I - Uh - Hi. I mean.” Harry knew he must have turned the shade of a tomato. “Hola.”

  Her smile grew wider. “Oh good, you speak English. I thought I recognized a fellow kinsmen in you. Mind if I sit here until my order is ready?” She gestured to the empty booth across him.

  “No,” Harry said, a little overzealous. Fucking hell, Harry! Stop making yourself look like a dunce He cleared his throat, before trying again. “No, feel free.”

  “Thanks!” She slid in gracefully. “So, what are you doing in Spain?” 

  “I’m here for work.” He was semi-proud of himself for completing a sentence without stuttering. 

  She nodded. “Me too. My team and I are in the quarterfinals against Barcelona.”

  “Your team?”

  “Yeah. We play for England’s national team.”

  As if she wasn’t hot enough already, but now she’s a pro football player?! Was it appropriate to propose to someone after only saying ten words to them?

  Instead of maying a complete fool of himself, Harry used his brain before speaking. “Whoa, that’s amazing! What position do you play?”

  “Forward.” She gave him a cocky grin that turned him on way more than it should have. “One of the best too, if I do say so myself. But what about you?” She propped her elbow on the table and placed her chin in her open palm. “What do you do?”

  “I’m a detective for the MET.” 

  Her red brows scrunched together in an all-too-cute way. “For the MET. Then why are you in Spain?” 

  “My team and I are following a suspect. We’re hoping to uncover all his -- ill-advised -- activities.

  “Wow!” She looked impressed. “Makes my job feel invaluable, doesn’t it?”

  “No way.” He shook his head. “Being on the national team -- that’s fucking incredible.” 

  She smiled brightly, her brown eyes dancing with pleasure. “Thank you. It’s been a lot of hard work.”

  Harry was about to pluck up some real courage and ask if he could come and see her play, but before he could open his mouth the redhead’s friends called her over. They held all their takeway bags. 

  “I’m sorry.” She stood “I’ve got to go. We’ve got practice soon.” 

  Harry stood as she started to make her way back to her teammates. He wanted to call out, ask for her number, but his bravery seemed to leave with her. Fuck ! Why couldn’t he grow a pair when it came to talking with women?

  “Hey.” She had turned around halfway between him and her companions. “I was planning on heading to the beach this evening.” She cocked her head to the side. “If you’re free, maybe you’d like to meet up?”

  His mouth couldn’t open fast enough. “Yeah, that would be great.”

  She beamed at him and pulled out her phone. “What’s your number so I can text you when and where?” 

  Harry quickly relayed his number, watching her efficiently type in the digits. “Perfect.” She smiled at him. “I’ll see you later.” Before Harry realized what she was doing, her lips were on his cheek. 

  He could only watch as she turned back to her friends. It took a few moments for his brain to start running again. They were almost out the door when Harry yelled, “Wait, I don’t even know your name!” 

  She turned to look over her shoulder. The smirk she sent him made his whole body buzz. “It’s Ginny.” 

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  Ginny walked across the beach, her bare feet sinking into the sand with every step, warming her toes. Harry walked beside her his hand tucked neatly in hers. They had deserted the little fire Ginny’s team had crowded around in favor of a few minutes alone. When she glanced back, she’d been able to see flickering sparks rising into the air. 

  “I’ve always liked the way the moon reflects off the water,” Ginny said, her focus now on the crashing waves. “It’s like a picture out of a book. It’s beautiful.” She turned to look at him was blinded by his intense eyes. Fuck , she’d seen that emerald green across the cafe and had been instantly sucked in.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.” 

  Ginny got the distinct impression he wasn’t talking about that moon. The idea made butterflies flutter through her stomach. She was used to men trying to chat her up (she was a professional football star, for fuck’s sake), but typically they didn’t do anything for her. Harry, however, wasn’t like the rest. He wasn’t using pick-up lines, asking for tickets to her games, or staring at her chest. No, he was following the flow of conversation, asking her about her interests, and only verging away from her face every so often.

  There was a real fire between them, and Ginny really liked it. 

  Before she could act on her feelings, a man and woman approached them. The couple stopped in front of them, talking in rapid Spanish. Ginny’s understanding of the language was extremely limited (ranging from hola to adios). Harry, however, nodded at the couple. 

  “Sí.” He pointed off towards the mainland. “ son unos veinte minutos por ese camino .” 

  The couple thanked Harry profusely (using another word in Ginny’s limited vocabulary) before heading off. 

  Ginny was impressed. “You speak Spanish?”

  Harry turned back to her, his hand jumping to the back of his neck. “I’m fluent in Spanish, French, and German.” 

  “Really?” Ginny hated how fucking sexy she found that. 

  “Yeah.” Harry’s sheepish smile almost made Ginny kiss him right there. He had no idea how adorable he was, and it just increased his appeal. 

  “Can you tell me something in Spanish?”

  “Uh… sure.” He paused for a moment. “Er. Estás arrestada . Pon las manos en tu cabeza.” 

Ginny blinked. “What did you just say?” 

  “You're under arrest. Put your hands on your head.”

  “Spanish makes that sound so much hotter. I’d be more than happy to be arrested if an officer talked to me like that.”

  Harry laughed.

  “What’s another thing you can say?” Ginny asked, not wanting the Spanish lessons to end.

  “Uh.” Harry looked around the beach, his gaze focusing on the water. “¿Te gusta nadar?”

  Ginny raised an eyebrow until he explained.

  Harry’s cheeks flushed, making his complexion darker in the minimal light. His hand jumped back to his neck. “Do you like swimming?”

  She beamed at him. “I love swimming.” She paused, considering the temperature, before reaching for the hem of her shirt. She tugged the white cotton over her head. “Care to join me?”

  Harry’s eyes drifted south, taking in her black bra that she was planning to use as a bikini top. She saw his tongue come out and run along his lower lip, seemingly unconsciously. 

  “ Sí, Señorita. ” If his husky tone and sexy Spanish weren’t enough, Ginny practically started drooling when Harry removed his shirt. Fuck , the MET kept their men fit. 

  Ginny undid her jeans and stepped out of them. At this point, she needed to get into the water to cool her fucking hormones down. If he said Señorita like that again… Ginny wouldn’t be at fault for what happened. 

  She ran to the crashing waves, Harry shouting to wait up as he ran in behind her. The chilly water hit her like the iceberg that hit the Titanic: Hard and sharp.

  Ginny, however, refused to be beaten by a liquid. She moved into the water up to her waist, her body trying to adjust from the temperature of warm sand. 

  When Harry’s arms finally wrapped around her from behind, the warmth of his body lessened the icy chill His lips were right next to her ear. “ Deberías haberme esperado, preciosa .” Gooseflesh rose across her body, and Ginny knew it had nothing to do with the cool temperature 

  She spun in his arms, their eyes locking. “You keep talking like that I won’t be able to control myself.”

  Harry grinned. “Haz lo que quieras. Soy tuyo. ” 

  “Okay.” Ginny gave him her most charming smile. “Just remember I warned you.” She pressed herself to him, placing her hands on his shoulders, turning so he was out deeper in the water.  Moving up to her tiptoes, she nuzzled her nose to his before using all her might to push him in. 

  Harry had not been expecting her attack -- or perhaps more accurately his defenses were down. His grip on her waist loosened and he fell easily, his body causing a dramatic splash. Ginny stood triumphantly, arms crossed. 

  When he surfaced, his hair was plastered to his face as he sputtered. Ginny smiled down at him. “That will teach you to mess with a Weasley. Only the bravest dare to try and handle us.” 

  Harry wiped the water away from his eyes and nose as he stood. His gaze never leaving hers. Ginny was surprised the water wasn’t boiling from the ardent look he was giving her. She sure as hell felt hot all over. 

  He moved in close, his hands sliding back over her hips and waist. His mouth hovered over hers, his breath warming her face. “Oh, trust me, I’m up for that dare.”

  Ginny’s body hummed with anticipation. She could already imagine how his lips would feel on hers. Then, instead of having her imagination satisfied, Harry changed course. He backed away just enough so his arms could wrap around the back of her legs and shoulders. Before Ginny knew it, she was in his fireman’s hold. 

  “Whoa!” Ginny’s arms went around his neck. “Now, Harry, let’s talk about this.” 

  Harry smirked down at her. “What do you have to offer, Señorita ?”

  Oh, Ginny really did love the way he said that . She leaned up and kissed him. She couldn’t have stopped it, even if she’d wanted to. It took Harry a second to realize what was happening, but he responded with enthusiasm. When his tongue ran across her lower lip, Ginny let out an embarrassing moan. She didn’t even realize he’d lowered her back into the water. 

  When oxygen became vital, Ginny pulled back. She remained on her tiptoes, not wanting to separate more than what was required to breathe. 

  “Harry.” She ran her hands into his soaked hair.

  “Yeah?” His voice was low and all too inviting.

  “How do you say wanna come back to my place in Spanish?”

  “¿Quieres volver a mi casa?”

  Ginny kissed him again. “ Sí, señor .”

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  Harry’s woke slowly, refusing to open his eyes. He was so warm and comfy, the idea of ever moving seemed impractical. Giving in to the desire to get closer to the source of the warmth, Harry pushed backward, his back snuggling into the heat. 

  “ Harry .” The sleepy voice made memories flood back to him. Taking Ginny back to his flat. Kissing up against the front door. Lifting her up so she was at the perfect height…

  He opened his eyes and turned in Ginny’s arms. Her mouth was twisted in a smile and he could see to the top of her breasts peeking out from under the sheet. He grinned. Last night had been… well, the best he’d ever had.  

  The urge to kiss her became overwhelming. He pressed his lips to hers lightly.

  Her smile grew as she smacked her lips  “Who do you think you are, prince charming?”  

  “If the shoe fits.”

  Ginny’s laughed, her eyes opening slowly, herr brown eyes luring him back in. “Quite sure of yourself, hmm?” 

  He leaned in and kissed her again. “Well, the way you were talking last night…”

  “Who says that was for you?” Ginny’s hands came up into his hair, spiking through it.

  “Well unless you changed your name to ‘ oh, Harry ,’ I’ll take it as a compliment.” He paused loving the feel of her hands massaging his scalp. His eyes closed on their own accord. Then a horrible seed of doubt spread throughout his mind. He looked back into her smiling chocolate brown eyes. “Ginny, what was this?”

  “I thought it was pretty self-explanatory.” Ginny’s lips curled in a smirk. “It’s called sex, Harry. Do I need to give a visual example?”

  “That’s not what -- Well ,” He mentally shook himself. Focus, Potter . “I mean, was this just a one-off or --” His voice broke, betraying his nerves. 

  Ginny blinked at him like that was the last thing she’d expected him to ask. Her hands tightened in his hair, and in the next instant, as she flipped them. She straddled his hips, her lips coming to hover just over his. “Boy, I never took you for a one night stand. So don't make plans for anything but me and a little romance.”

  When she kissed him, Harry couldn’t think of anything other than her. “ Sí, Señorita .” 

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Spanish Key:

Sí, son unos veinte minutos por ese camino - Yes. It's about twenty minutes that way

Estás arrestada. Pon las manos en tu cabeza -  You're under arrest. Put your hands on your head

¿Te gusta nadar? - Do you like swimming?

Deberías haberme esperado, preciosa - You should have waited for me, beautiful

Haz lo que quieras. Soy tuyo - Do whatever you want. I’m yours

#hinny #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fan fiction #harry X ginny #hinny fanfic #senorita #nothing on you #south of the border

[kitgilmore]

SEVEN / CINNAMON'S WAKE

Delight danced across as Kit's face as they sat at the immaculate table, the duck they were having was particularly delicious. The conversation had turned from how was school' to Nazis and that when Kit stopped paying attention to the blue nail polish she'd only been wearing on the weekends. Chilton did have a strict dress code, even though she'd seen a few upperclassman bend those rules daily. Kit was still the new girl and she didn't want to cause any more unwanted attention between Paris and her minions, Tristan the village idiot and Rory's audition for America's most crazed student the school was feeling crowded.

"Oh wait - Rudolph Gottfried." Their grandmother said.

"Another cousin?"

"No, a Nazi that we knew. I'd forgotten. We stayed with him once in Munich. Nice old man. Interesting stories."

Taking a sip of lemonade to stop herself from chocking at her Grandmothers comment, she took another to stop herself from outright laughing as she noticed the glint in her eye.

"Mom you socialized with a Nazi? That's despicable! That's heinous!" "No, dear, that was a joke." She smirked causing the twins to chuckle.

Kit could hear Rory before she entered the kitchen messenger bag slung across her shoulder.

"All of the parents pitch in so this is really really important. You know that, right?" Rory screeched.

"Your sister isn't freaking out.." she said as Kit grabbed a cup of coffee. "Why aren't you freaking out sweetheart"

"Because you can't bake!" She said taking a seat next to her mother, wondering why her sister was playing Rancid this early in the morning.

"You see one of the perks of having a mother who runs an inn is that it comes with a brilliant chef who makes the best sugar cookies."

"Smart child..," she said to Kit before turning to Rory.

"I try"

"I have it covered! Get your stuff and hit the stereo - we're late."

"It's not me." He sister said crossing the kitten to her bedroom. Opening the Gilmore saw a small Korean dancing.

"Where does your mother think you are?" Lorelai asked as Kit grabbed her blue peacoat, thanking God it was Tuesday so she didn't need Cello as much as she loved it lugging it to and from on a bus was becoming challenging.

"Oh, on a park bench contemplating the reunification of the two Koreas." Lane said. Their small best friend had been working her way through the catalogue of rock since 6th grade when she heard Metallica for the first time. If it wasn't for Lane Kit never would have found her love for Blondie, she would have stuck with Bach or YoYo Ma.

"So not skanking to Rancid?" Kit smirked.

"Wouldn't be included."

"School!" Their mother called out.

Saying their goodbyes to Lane as she ran off towards Stars Hollow High, they themselves ran into their neighbours Babette and Morey walked by pushing their cat in a carriage which honestly wasn't the strangest thing she'd seen them do it should have been though she sure of it.

"Wow, Cinnamon, riding in style," Rory commented while Kit just whistled along.

"Yeah, Morey made it. Cinnamon's not walking well these days but she still likes her passeggiatas. That's Italian for 'a nice walk.'" She short woman said of her overtly tall husband.

"Passeggiata," Morey said rolling his tongue in an Italian accent.

"Oh God, he makes it sound so sexy." Rory and Kit shared a look the couple was truly adorable.

"Come on."

"What's that?" Their mother asked pointing to the enclosed space in the gold covered wagon.

"Oh, it's Cinnamon's private area." She told them as if it was obvious.

"Sometimes she likes to be alone. She's just like Morey in that sense." She said before turning to her husband and asking.

"Say passaggiata again."

"I can't do it on command, Babs." He says, shades on cool as anything.

"Oh, he's blushin'. God, I love a man that blushes!" She says before they walked away pulling their cat in a wagon behind them.

"I love them" Kit smiled before kissing her mother goodbye.

"Okay, our town is just weird," Rory commented.

"Thank God."

"Bye," the girls said.

"Bye"

"I'll see you later at school," Rory said her voice a touch higher in her worried state.

"For what?" Joked their mother acting as if she didn't know what her sister was talking about.

"Mom, the bake sale!" Rory yelled, her eyes wide, her forehead creased.

"Ha! I got the vein in the forehead. Whoo!"

"Sadist," Rory called after her. Readjusting her bag, Kit grabbed hold of her sister's shoulders, pulling her towards their destination.

"Come on you little worrier or we're going to miss the bus." Her sister turned her, frowning before saying

"That's not funny!"

It took the twins about 45 minutes to get to Hartford from Stars Hollow. Seating on the bench at the bus stop Rory was reading one of the 3 books she always carried with her while Kit was nearing the end of Crime and Punishment, the Russian edition was a lot easier to read that she'd thought once she got into it, she did have to stop herself from skimming some of the longer passages but Dostoyevsky was beautiful in its original language. When the bus arrived the twins got on usually Kit stood up in order to lean against her cello but today she sat next to her sister, lucky the bus wasn't too crowded.

"Hey."

"Yблюдок" Bastard. "Aah! Morning." The twins yelled at the boy behind them.

"Good book?" He asked

"Sure"

"I don't know yet," Rory told him, Kit smiled at her sister as she blushed a little.

"I saw you standing in line so I thought I'd say hello."

"Hello," Rory said sheepishly.

"Hi, I'm Kit," she said offering him her hand over her seat which he shook "This is my twin sister Rory, which I'm sure you knew."

Rory was holding her bag tightly, not looking at either her sister or the boy.

"Yeah."

The conversation paused as the bus started to move, Kit watched as Rory blushing reached her ears.

"So how do you know Rory..?" Kit asked turning to face him. "Wait what's, what's your name?"

"Dean." He answered looking back at Rory who had yet to move.

"Oh, she helped me get a job at the store. I mean it's not a career or anything but it's got me solvent."

"Solvent's good." Rory finally added.

"Your the new boy" Kit said, not quite meaning it to come out as an accusation.

"Yeah, uh, are you always this serious?" He asked Rory, Kit smiled as she returned to her book.

"No" "Yes" she muttered under her breath.

"So, uh, how long does it take you to get to school?" He asked.

"Um...forty minutes if the bus driver's focused but longer if he's trying to win something on the radio," Rory said.

"Hey, this bus is going to Hartford!" she yelled.

"Yeah, I know."

"But you go to school here. You have to get off the bus!" Rory began to panic before calling out to the driver "Hey, he has to get off the bus!"

"Wait. You're forgetting something." He said leaning closer to her.

"Buses make stops. Good-bye Lorelai Gilmore." And with the cute boy in the leather jacket got off the bus.

"Oh god." Kit said unable to contain her smile. "You like him."

"No, I don't," She told her twin, shaking her head with a smile that was about to reach her eyes.

"You do, you did before.. you were all... I don't wanna got to Chilton, who needs read books when I can stare his cute face all day" she impersonated, as poked and prodded her sister's sides.

"I did not," Rory told her sister firm, blushing a little more than Kit had ever seen as she smoothed out her school uniform.

"He cute.." Kit told her trying back to Dostoyevsky "...he obviously likes you." Which caused the sides of her sister's smile to increase.

The school day passed relatively fast and before they knew it was bake sale time. Kit was a little surprised when she found out a school like Chilton was going to have a bake sale. The courtyard was littered with tables with a variety of different selection of cakes on them.

"OK- we've got our French fantasies" Sookie started "American treats and our Italian taste sensations. Well, what do you think?"

"Amazing."

"Brilliant"

"Incredible." The Gilmore girls commented.

"It is good, isn't it? Well, final touch." She smiled pulling out a blow torch to light the swan-shaped dessert on fire.

"Oh, can I do that?" Rory asked

"Whoa, honey, this is a more delicate procedure than you might think, OK?" Sookie told her lighting the torch.

"Ok" she replied, while Kit went in search of something with peanut butter in it.

"It takes an expert hand." she heard Sookie say as she turned around, walking backward a voice behind her called.

"Is that your mother"

"Eh, the one pouring lemonade on the desserts.." she said looking towards her mother and Sookie.

"Yeah that my mom.."

"So are your parents here?" She asked the shorter girl.

"No.. my father is in London and my mum lives in Chicago," Hazel told her. Kit and Hazel had become friends over the last couple of weeks. They only had one class together but it was nice having a companion in the orchestra.

"So. Are home alone?" Kit asked her as they walked past tables filled with deserts that didn't quite look homemade.

"No my brothers with me." Kit paused.

"You have a brother." She asked looking around.

"No... he doesn't go here. He has been kicked out of a few too many schools to go here." She told her.

"Oh... is he your only brother?" Kit asked. Once they found a table with what seemed to be peanut butter brownies, Kit brought three and one for Hazel.

"Yes.. we have same parents but I have 4 half sisters and a step-sister."

"Wow." Kit said.

"Yeah, my parents are worse than Ross Geller when it comes to marriage."

"That's good... or not" Kit said handing her a brownie.

"My mum has a set of twins."

"Really."

"They're identical though... so they have this whole creepy shinning thing going on." The freckled girl told her, playing with the bracelets stacked on her wrist, her shirt sleeves pulled up the elbow.

"We've done that.. it was fun.. well not fun but we got to scare Kirk." She said as they laughed their way back to her sister, Sookie and her mother.

"Whose Kirk?"

"He's.. unexplainable."

Lying across her bed, listening to Beethoven's Cello Sonata no. 3 she was putting off her chemistry homework. The afternoon light dancing across her bedroom floor, when Rory burst through the door. Kit sat up rapidly and shot her she looked at her with confusion.

"I brought a lettuce."

"Rad"

Kit blinked twice and was about to asked her sister why she brought a head of lettuce with such urgency when they heard a siren coming up the drive. The twins shared a looked before they raced to the window, trying not to disturb the small plant she kept there, as they opened it to get a better look. Out the window, a van from the Stars Hollow veterinarian clinic pulls up next door.

"Go get mum she's at Luke's." Kit asked her.

Inside Babette's house, Cinnamon's body lay covered with a sheet while the vet examined her. She had just finished when Rory and Lorelai arrived Kit was sitting with Morey.

"Oh, Lorelai. Rory Come in, come in." The small blonde told her mother as she adhered them inside.

"She's gone. Cinnamon's gone."

"I'm so sorry."

"Is there anything we can do for you, Morey?" Kit asked trying to comfort the fellow musician as Rory sat next to her.

"This is life, Girls," he told them "It breaks your heart." The girls both hugged him while Babette told them what happened to Cinnamon.

"She looked like she was sleeping. I thought she was asleep so I nudged her and she didn't wake." She told them getting more and more upset.

"I gave her a push and she rolled off the couch and since I waxed the floor she went shootin' across the room and then she knocked over the lamp and she still didn't move. I knew it was over." When she cried "Oh, God, my baby." Lorelai hugged her to comfort her.

"Tell me it wasn't the -." He started before clamming up with grief.

"Oh, Morey, don't do this to yourself. He thinks it was the clams."

"She saw me eating them and she gave me that 'hey, man, what's up?' look and -."

"It wasn't the clams. Morey, in human years this cat was 260 years old." The vet told them.

"That's a good, long life." Their mother told them

"Listen, why don't you let me take her out to the van and then I'll get out of your way." The vet suggested.

"Oh, no, stay," she said before turning to the rest of them

"All of you, please stay. Cinnamon would want you here.

"We'll stay as long as you want," Rory said.

"I'll never eat clams again."

"Me either." The twins said.

A funeral for a cat may not seem that strange, if you are eight and have need to say goodbye to your first pet but its more often than not a private affair in the backyard next to the oak tree, however in a town such as Stars Hollow with a Cat like cinnamon a wake is required. The Gilmore twins were trying to keep themselves occupied while their mothers organise ed greeting the mourners, calling both Luke and Sookie and comforting Babette. Kit was trying very hard not to think about the chemistry homework she had put off in favour of relaxation. What a stupid teenage mistake because you never know when your neighbour's cat will die, and you'll have to put it off in favour of a wake for said cat. She wondered briefly if 'my neighbour's cat died" was on the same par as 'my dog ate my homework. How did that phrase even start, Kit wondered who was the first to start it, was it a movie or a book. She swore to look it up later as she's pulled out of her thoughts by Lane who said

"They said that they rolled her body into a lamp." as they walked through Babette barn style house, Kit pursed her lips as Rory nodded in answer.

"Did you laugh?" Kit had to concentrate on not laughing at this moment, it not that she thought it was funny, Its just tragedy plus time equals comedy and one day this will be funny, probably sooner rather than later. Her mother had a terrible track record with pets including two hamsters and a turtle. How she killed a turtle Kit will never know. Rory being far more polite than her sister just shook her head at her best friend.

"Did you want to?" Kit sniggered at her, her hand quickly finding her mouth as she composed herself, Rory gave her a sharp look only for it fall into a smile as she nodded yes.

"But it's sad," Rory told them, as they walked into the living room.

"Yeah, it's sad."

"So sad." Kit said.

She lost Rory in the crowd of people, after a short conversations in which miss Patty informed her that birthday kissed are a special kind of magic, and only after Kit promised to always remember that she left the dance teacher in search of her sister and a mug of hot chocolate, if she played her cards right she could have it spiked with peppermint, because it never too early for something festive.

"Do you know him?" she heard her mother ask, Rory's ears flushing in the way they seemed to when leather jacket boy was around. Kit found her mother looking in the direction of the kitchen where he was headed, a creates of soda bottles in his arms.

"No"

"No"

"Yes." Kit said joining the conversation, Lorelai looked between her daughters one blushing, one smirking.

"Well, he goes to my old school, so I see him there sometimes," Rory told them quickly.

"but I.. we go to Chilton now." Kit giggled at her sister's misfortune.

"Thanks for the update."

"You're welcome."

When their mother left the leather jacket boy suddenly returned, before Kit could save her sister from her flustered lack of conversational skills, their conversation was over, when he smiled sweetly and said

"Oh, sure, ill see you later."

As she watched her sister watch him leave she pulled on her shoulder and said.

"Okay, we need to make a plan, otherwise that boy is never going to know how many triple word score words you know...I'm thinking step 1. Talking." It wasn't untill she was ready to click her finger in her sister's face that she noticed just what she was staring at, like Rory all words seemed to fail her, as her mother returned. It was Rory who asked.

"Mom? Isn't that -"

"Oh, no."

"That's Mr. Medina." Kit said as she pointed to towards the dark haired man standing on their front porch.

"Tonight's Thursday!"

"You were expecting him." Kit asked looking towards her mother.

"Well, am I in trouble? is Kit. Did the school call or something?" Rory asked just as confused by the sudden appearance of their English teacher.

"No, no you're great. Both of you" Lorelai started. She paused trying to find the words. "I - um - let me just come back in just one second."

"Wait - what's going on?" Rory asked.

"Let me tell you in a minute."

"Tell us now." Kit all but demanded.

"Max is here -"

"Max?... You're calling him Max." Kit staggered.

"Max is here to pick me up."

"Pick you up.." Kit repeated.

"Pick you up for - oh."

"I'm gonna go talk to him real quick and I'm gonna be right back." Both the girls walked inside faces far more appropriate for the occasion.

"Are we alright with this?" Kit asked her sister, as she was being pulled through Babette house and out the other door into the garden, Kit giggled as Rory sat amongst the circle of red-hatted garden gnomes as if she was conducting a meeting of the UN.

"Are we," she answered, Kit let out the breath she was holding and thought about it. Unable to come up with a quick conclusion she too sat down and joined the meeting.

The conversation had been laps with neither teen quite sure how they felt about the possibility of their mother dating their teacher, but more importantly, their mother who shared everything, too much some would say didn't tell them until he was standing right in front of them. In fact. She hadn't told them anything at all. Kit couldn't help but think about all the ways in which this could go wrong, they were new at Chilton, she just wanted to keep her head down and get through this semester not be known as the girl who mother is dating her English teacher.

"Hey." A voice called behind them, Kit watched as Rory jumped, a little startled herself. As soon as she saw who it was, a smile appeared.

"Jeez, you scared me."

"You just keep popping up, don't you." Kit said, as she picked up one of the gnomes, wanting to give them some privacy but now ready to leave the circle just yet.

"Yeah, uh, look. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

"For what," Rory asked.

"Well, I've been kind of bugging you lately. Uh, I thought - I don't know." Kit attention was now on the pair of them not they noticed.

"I thought that maybe you liked me. But it's obvious that you're not interested so I just wanted to say that I get it and I'm not gonna bother you anymore."

Rory looked hurt as she glanced at her sister in desperation, Kit eyes widen as she silently told her to say something, anything as he started to walk away.

"Wait! I AM interested," she yelled as she jumped up. Maybe not that Kit thought.

"You are?"

"Yes. I gotta go." And with that Rory bolted towards the house leaving her sister, the boy in the leather jacket and her meeting of gnomes. Putting the gnome who looked like he was named Samson back in his position the tall teen stood up and said to the boy watching her sister leave with a smile on his face.

"She's better when she had the chance to write a second draft."

"Goodnight leather jacket boy."

"Oh! Finally. I've been looking everywhere for you." Lorelai said as she found the girls on the front porch.

"Well, you found us." Kit snipped.

"Listen, I have some explaining to do. OK. Okay." she started.

"So sit down in that tiny little bench and I'm gonna do it right now." the twins looked towards each other and silently agreed to listen to their mother. They squeezed together on the little bench and waited for an explanation.

"That man on the porch was your teacher." she started.

"Fully aware of who he is Mom, we have him for an hour of English, 5 days a week."

"So?" Rory added.

"So - um - he and I were going to sort of hang out together," she told them

"On a date," Rory asked.

"No, on a" Kit raised her eyebrows at her mother

"Something that could appear like a date to the untrained eye."

"You mean like your daughters or the guy at the bank, or to anyone. Really." Kit added, the brand of sarcasm she only reversed for her parents dating choices, their father only slightly worse than their mother when it comes to the length of time their relationships last.

"It was a date." she defeated.

"How long have you been dating him?" Rory asked, her eyebrows doing their 'trying to be as sassy as her sister' thing.

"I haven't. This was gonna be the first time."

"Right." Kit mumbled trying to wrap her head around this.

"And when were you planning on telling us about this - your wedding?" Rory asked.

"No - by the rehearsal dinner at least." Their mother joked. Neither twin was amused.

"He's our teacher." Kit said after a beat of silence.

"I know."

"He teaches us things every day in a very small classroom with a lot of other kids who probably won't be high-fiving us when they find this out," Rory said as she stood up, her hands letting go of the sleeve of her jean jacket.

"I know, sweetie, and I told him this was one of the things I was concerned about," she told them.

"And?" Kit asked.

"And he thought we could be discreet."

"You do realize we're in high school. You remember that it was that thing you meant to be doing when we were conceived" Kit snapped.

"Are you mad?"

"Should we not be."

"Yes," Rory added.

"Alright. Because I'm dating him?"

"A little. I think." Kit said standing up, as she leaned against the house, she waited for Rory to speak.

"Because you lied to us."

"I kept information from you." She said, unable to meet her eye.

"Information that we should have had." Kit told her, standing next to her sister, her arms folded.

"Information that would have come out eventually," she said her hands waving in front of her as she tried to dismiss this issue, in a true Gilmore fashion. "Like the Iran-Contra scandal."

"So you're Oliver North." Rory huffed.

"No, I'm Fawn Hall."

"Mom"

"Well, she was much prettier." she joked.

"I just can't believe that you didn't tell us about this." Kit said, sitting back down, trying to work out if she was okay with her mother dating her English teacher and whether in the end, it mattered.

"Why wouldn't you tell us?"

"'Cause I thought you were going to take it bad. Thank God I was wrong."

"Its pretty justified." Kit snipped.

"OK, OK. Listen, I'm sorry. I won't date him. I promise."

"I'm not saying that you can't date him. It's just.." Rory started.

"Weird... It's weird." Kit finished.

"Yeah, I mean - there's a million guys in this world and you end up with Mr. Medina," Rory said.

"You think I don't get the weirdness factor? Believe me, the last thing I intended to do was date your teacher."

"I believe you," Rory said while Kit kept quiet.

"I really like him, girls. I can't help it. And it's been a really long time since I've felt like this. You can't always control who you're attracted to, you know." Their mother told them unable to control the smile on her face.

"I think the whole Angelina Jolie/Billy Bob Thronton thing really proves that. And I know you don't understand this now but you will someday. You'll meet some great guy and he'll make your head all foggy and you won't know what to do with yourself."

"Oh, girls, I won't keep anything from either of you again. OK? I promise. From now on every aspect of my life is an open book to you both."

"That's alright." Kit mumbled.

"Really, I'm not even going to get dressed until I tell you what I'm thinking of wearing."

"Fair enough."

"OK, tomorrow I'm thinking the purple tiger top, the black leather skirt, the panda bear underwear."

"Please. Stop."

"But of course I'm totally open to suggestions."

"Here's one: get some help." Rory integrated.

Once the goodbyes where said the girls made their home, the phone started ringing as soon as they opened the door. Their mother reached for it, while Kit stripped off her mustard sweater, as she listened to her mothers conversation.

"Hello."

"Mom?"

"Hi."

"But someone hasn't."

"There we go."

"Well, there are no messages on the machine, Mom."

"At a wake."

Both Kit and Rory looked at their mother with annoyance, shaking their heads and all but waving their arms.

"A wake...a funeral."

"It was for the neighbours -"

"-cat." Kit smacked her hand against her head, her mother looked at her and mouthed 'What', to which the girls just shocked their heads.

"Mom?"

"I just wanted to be honest with you, Mom. Silly me."

"Yeah, a cat. It was a cat's funeral." she continued.

"Not my cousin, mom. My father's grandmother's sister's girl who I've never -" the girls left their mother to her own mother.

"French and then Chemistry." Kit told Rory when she asked what Homework she had.

"Plus English."

"Plus English, which ill leave for last I think. I should probably start with Chemistry." Kit moaned as she filled the coffee filter.

"Aaagh! She's working for a sedative manufacturer. Keeping that demand sky-high." Lorelai moaned in the same tone as Kit as she entered the kitchen.

"You shouldn't have told her," Rory said, pouring herself a glass of lemonade.

"Well, I don't know what to tell and what to hide."

"Yeah."

"So we never did quite settle the whole dating-your-teacher issue." their mother started. Looking between her two teenagers as they stood on either side of the room.

"You're a grown up. You can date whoever you like."Kit said before turning back to her coffee.

"It's whoever we like."

"Well I'm certainly not going to go out with him 'cause that would be really weird," Rory said.

"But I mean it. I won't see him if you don't want me to."

"Huh." Kit mumbled as she poured her coffee.

"You know, if there's anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, big or small, then he's out of there."

"Good to know," Rory stated.

"Because you know it's not like I'm desperate. I mean, there are plenty of other guys out there."

"Plenty."

"And it's not like I have to ask permission from my teenager daughters. I mean, this is a courtesy."

"Thanks." Kit said as she reached the stairs.

"OK, so I'm going to be up for a while if you want to get back to me on this," Lorelai yelled so both she and Rory behind her closed door could hear.

"Got it." Kit yelled down the stairs as she reached her bedroom, put the cup of coffee on her messy bedside table, and fell on to it only for a second before she reached for her school bag and pulled out her homework.

#Kit Gilmore #The Adaptation of Kit Gilmore #Gilmore Girls #Gilmore Girls OC #Rory Gilmore #Lorelai Gilmore #CINNAMON'S WAKE

[i-say-vol-you-say-tron]

Voltron Headcanons Pt. 2

People liked my first part, so here I am back at it with the Voltron Headcanons.

Matt is the type of person that kisses people when he’s really excited. Shiro found this out the hard way, but he expects it now. The first time Matt did it in front of Team Voltron, everyone freaked out except for Pidge and Shiro, who were used to it. Lance and Keith thought they were dating for a whole month before Shiro, incredibly red-faced, cleared it up.

Allura could benchpress Shiro if he’d let her.

Shiro still doesn’t know that Keith got kicked out of the Garrison. Lance almost mentioned it and Keith tackled him to the floor.

Everyone just assumes that Keith has no family back on Earth, but his dad is actually alive and well. Keith hadn’t spoken to him since leaving the Garrison, leaving him with a cryptic message of “I can’t come home just yet.” His father knew that one day he’d make it to space, but he assumed that it would be when Keith learned the truth about his mother and went willingly. He’s still waiting for Keith to come home.

Keith got booted from the Garrison because he punched Iverson in the face for saying that Shiro was dead and that he was never a good pilot anyway if he’d made such a rookie mistake [Edit: I DIDNT THINK THIS WAS ACTUALLY CANON!].

Matt and Keith know each other from the Garrison, but not that well.

Lance only beat Keith in one thing back at the Garrison - target practise. Lance hit the bullseye dead on almost every time, while Keith missed horribly. Keith doesn’t know that Lance was the one that beat him, and Lance is saving that information to serve as blackmail one day.

Shiro and Matt know morse code and use it constantly. Unknown to them, Pidge knows it too and has to stifle laughter when they’re being idiots.

Keith and Lance know sign language. Keith had been taught due to his habit of becoming easily overwhelmed, and he would be unable to form coherent sentences, and uses it to communicate. Lance has a deaf niece. (Autistic Keith is back)

The first time Lance and Keith used sign language around each other, Keith freaked out because he’d signed something to himself as a reminder and Lance replied back to him. The reminder - Lance is actually nice, don’t make fun of Lance. The response - thank you, you’re not so bad yourself.

Hunk and Pidge take bets on who will admit their feelings to the other first - Lance or Keith. Both have their money on Lance, but suspect that it might actually be Keith.

Team Voltron bets on everything.

Hunk only has sisters, no brothers. Two of them to be exact.

Matt kind of panicked when he was reunited with Shiro. Not sure where they stood since they last saw each other, he settled with calling his friend “sir.” He still regrets it, feeling that he downplayed his excitement for being with his best friend again. (He kind of has a crush on him)

Matt gets twitchy when he’s nervous, and ends up fidgeting with whatever’s nearby. Usually it’s spare parts and he ends up making bizarre inventions that even he doesn’t know what they do.

Pidge and Matt are fluent in Rick and Morty. Pidge once told Keith to “get schwifty” and Keith just froze with panic. He looked to Lance, who had no idea what she was talking about. Lance ended up awkwardly doing the macerana. Pidge will not let this incident go.

Never give Matt coffee. Ever.

Once, to stay up and study for exams, Matt downed eight Red Bulls within twenty minutes. He spent most of the day running up and down the halls of their dorm screaming, “I can hear colours Kashi!” Shiro eventually managed to get him inside their room, where Matt was promptly pinned to his bed and sat on until he calmed down. He got perfect on his exam the next day despite his lack of studying. Matt does not let Shiro forget about this.

Allura firmly believes that Matt is Lance’s clone that somehow got infused with Pidge’s DNA. She also secretly finds him adorable in a weird platonic way, like one would find a permanently confused puppy. 

Pidge has blackmail material for everyone on the ship except for Hunk. He’s too nice for her to blackmail.

Pidge once hacked into the team’s playlists. The one that surprised her the most was Keith’s, which was full of classical music and slow songs. What she doesn’t know is that they’re his stress relievers.

(I said Matt was gay in the last post, so I’m fixing it now) Matt is bi and flirts with girls a lot even though he prefers guys. He can’t talk to guys at all. He’s also so far in the closet that he’s the king of Narnia - even Pidge doesn’t know. Matt’s fine with the members of Team Voltron because he knows Shiro and he’s like six years older than the others (and Coran is too old) so it would be gross for him to have a crush on any of them. He thinks Allura’s around 25 because of her maturity (she’s 18 but he doesn’t know that).

Any friend of Pidge is a friend of Matt, though the opposite isn’t necessarily true.

Keith has selective memory. He can’t remember dates and definitions very well, but can memorize movie quotes easily. Somehow, he can’t put two and two together and figure out when someone is quoting something. It hits him like two hours later.

When Matt eventually came out to Pidge, it was totally an accident, but worth it. Pidge was complaining that Keith and Lance were in love and that they should’ve kissed already, and she mentioned that she could tell because she had an excellent gay-dar that could detect a gay person a mile away. Matt’s response was to throw a pillow at her head and yell “You lived with my gay ass for fifteen years and you didn’t detect shit!”

Shiro apologized on Matt’s behalf for the coming out incident. He’d known for years - Matt had tried hitting on him when they were just starting to get to know each other. It was awkward and they’d agreed not to speak about it. He’s just as bad with flirting as Lance, possibly even worse. 

Keith has long hair because his ears are pointed. He just thought it was a birth defect and he used to get made fun for it. (My friend actually came up with this upon finding out that Keith was part Galra)

Since “awakening” his Blade, Keith’s eyes flash yellow when he’s angry. Lance nearly screamed when they were sparring one day, then proceeded to stammer as he tried to convince an upset Keith that it looked cool.

Keith has a lot of freckles on his back, and recently they’ve been turning a light purple. Keith had initially thought he’d contracted an alien disease and that he was going to die. He freaked out.

Lance once noticed the freckles while they were changing for a bonding session in the training deck’s locker room. He thinks they’re cute. Hunk has a picture of him blushing, though Lance denies the photo exists. Keith is as oblivious as ever.

Lance covers Pidge’s ears whenever someone swears. She then tells him to fuck off, at which Matt covers Shiro’s ears.

Allura and Coran once asked Lance what “fuck” meant. Lance muttered “quiznak” and Allura went pale while Coran started laughing.

Speaking of which, Keith did realize that by telling him to “shut your quiznak,” Lance had basically told him to “shut your fuck.” It clicked to him during training, and he’d almost got impaled because of it. Everyone else thought he was having a seizure because they’d never seen Keith laugh so hard.

Back on Earth, there are several conspiracy theory websites debating whether or not the Kerberos team and the missing Garrison kids are actually alive, what happened to them, and if the two events are somehow connected. One of these websites is run by Lance’s thirteen year old sister.

Pidge managed to hook up one of their Garrison-issued phone to the teledov (I think that’s how you spell it) so they could contact their families at home and tell them that they’re alright. Lance’s phone call consisted of angry, yet concerned, Spanish screaming.

Keith knows like five words in Spanish and completely butchers the pronunciation. Once, Lance was trying to convince the others that “te amo” was actually a swear, and ending up saying it to Keith as a joke. Unfortunately for him, Keith knew what that meant and went incredibly silent, blushing like crazy and responding with a very quiet “mierda.” Lance didn’t speak to him for a week because he was so embarrassed. Hunk couldn’t stop laughing.

To retaliate at Lance’s and Hunk’s secret Spanish conversations (mentioned in Part One), Keith and Shiro sometimes speak to each other in Japanese. Keith only knows the basics, and speaks a little slower, but Shiro is fluent. Pidge and Matt irritably complain that no one on the ship speaks English anymore.

Pidge is not allowed to use the Altean equivalent of a microwave. There is a sticker on it that says “Food only. No science in the microwave.”

Hunk knows lines from Welcome to Night Vale off by heart, and can be oddly philosophical at times when using these. Most of the time it just creeps people out. Allura and Coran like it that for once the others are also clueless as to what’s going on.

Keith, without knowing, accidentally used a pickup line on Lance and everyone lost their shit. Lance was slightly traumatized.

When Keith came out as part Galra, he talked to Shiro privately about it afterwards and asked him what he really felt. Shiro had said it was fine, raising his metal arm and saying “I’m part Galra too.”

Lance, while insulting Keith, off-handedly mentioned that Keith purrs really loud while he was sleeping. Hunk stared at him for a really long time until Lance realized the impact of what he’d just said. Lance reassured him, while panicking, that he and Keith had fallen asleep in the lounge one day. Pidge had more blackmail material within five minutes.

KEITH. PURRS. IN. HIS. SLEEP.

Everyone on the ship wants to know where the fuck Shiro gets eyeliner????

Hunk made a Rover 2.0 for Pidge. She’s determined to keep this one safe at all costs.

Matt puked the first time he went through a wormhole.

Matt called Pidge “Katie” and Lance had a freak out - “WHO THE FUCK IS KATIE?!”

Since none of the paladins have money on them, Pidge is acting as the official bookie so everyone can collect their winnings upon returning to Earth. So far, Lance has the greatest debt, owing Keith around a hundred bucks.

Colleen Holt knows that Pidge is still alive. She’d promised to find Matt and Samuel, and Colleen does not doubt her little girl. Wherever she was, she was going to come home and bring her boys with her.

Back on Earth, Pidge, Hunk, and Lance were reported to the news as “delinquents who went on a joyride in a stolen Garrison ship and never came back.“ Keith’s dad never reported him missing because he knew were his son was going and that he was going to come home when he was ready.

Keith’s mom is one of Lotor’s generals, but she (whoever she is) doesn’t know because she dropped off baby Keith at his father’s doorstep and left, not even bothering to name him, hence why Keith has a human name. (Calling it now that one of Lotor’s generals is Keith’s mom - I mean they’re the only Galra women we’ve seen)

Acxa’s “other option” she mentioned after shooting Lotor was to join the Blade of Mamora.

Lance thought that Keith had a crush on Shiro until he heard Keith mention that the black paladin was like his older brother.

Whenever someone has to take a moment of silence to process information, either Pidge or Matt can be heard going “___________.exe has stopped working.”

Pidge, Hunk, and Allura all bond over the idiotic sexual tension between Keith and Lance. Coran tried to stay out of the way, Matt doesn’t seem to care, and Shiro somehow doesn’t notice a thing.

There’s a sign in the command centre that says “No weapons in the command centre” after Matt almost broke literally everything while swinging his staff around.

A little cliche, but Lance begrudgingly groans out “in English please” whenever Hunk, Pidge, or Matt technobabbles.

PART ONE HERE 

#voltron #vld #headcanons #vld headcanons #team voltron #keith kogane #lance mcclain #hunk garrett #takashi shirogane #shiro #pidge gunderson #katie holt #matt holt #allura #coran

[aj-diamond]

Promptis Week:  Day 2: Bed Sharing / High School Days

Rated: T (For Language and mild sexual themes)

Word Count: 2,418

Notes: Prompto is an insecure little chicken nugget. Once again, this was written and edited to the best of my ability. Enjoy! 

Also can be read on: Ao3 

@promptisfanweek

Hiding the Truth - (Sharing a Bed)

Seven months had passed since Prompto and Noctis had met. Quickly over time, they became closer. They went from meeting up a few times a week to meeting up pretty much every single day.  They went from knowing nothing about each other to knowing almost everything about each other. They knew each other’s majors and goals in life, favorite and least favorite foods, each other’s favorite games, hobbies, favorite candy, birthday, family situations, past relationships… They had even shared things with each other that no one else knew about.

Granted, they were still only friends, well best friends, but it was okay. That didn’t stop Prompto from loving him like he did.

It was Friday night, both Noctis’ and Prompto’s favorite day of the week. Friday night was game night at Noct’s apartment (Prompto’s apartment was tiny, noisy, and honestly, just downright embarrassing compared to Noct’s. Noctis’ living room alone was the size of his entire apartment.). They would order take-out and play video games late into the night, usually until 2AM. Tonight’s games were The Legend of the Dragon Warrior and Space Defenders V.

Prompto quickly discovered that night, Noctis was hella good at, The Legend of the Dragon Warrior, but absolutely terrible at Space Defenders V. The guy couldn’t aim to save his life!

“L-look out!” Prompto exclaimed, leaning towards his left.

“I got it!” Noctis replied, leaning with him mashing the buttons on his controller. “Oh shit! Shit!”

“Gimme the controller, Noct! You definitely don’t ‘got it’!”

Prompto reached for the controller, and Noctis moved his hands, “Stop, you’re going to make me lose, Prom!”

“You mean like how you’re already losing already? Look at your health is depleting every second we-” He leaned back. “Pull up!! Pull the hell up!”

“I am pulling up!” Noctis argued, practically breaking the thumb stick.

“Look out for the…” Prompto watched the spacecraft on screen explode into millions of pixeled pieces, “Asteroid.”

Prompto sighed and leaned his head back against Noctis’ love seat. “How is someone who is good at literally everything, so bad at an arcade game like this?”

“I got to level 10, though!” Noctis tossed the controller in Prompto’s lap, he was flushed with embarrassment he thought Prompto couldn’t see. “I bet you can’t get any higher than that!”

Prompto turned his head and nodded at him, “I can. I beat the whole game, twice and have the high score of 3,767,900. I died only three times out of the ten possible times you can die.”

The other boy turned his head, “Y-yeah right! I’ll believe it when I see it!” The blonde was silent for a moment as he stared at the back of his head. He smiled fondly, Noctis was cute when he was embarrassed like this. It was such a rare feature he showed.

“I’ll bring my console with me one night.” he told him, poking the back of the shoulder.

Noctis looked back over at him, “Better, or I’ll think you’re lying.”  

“And when has your ol’ pal Prom, lied to you?” Prompto lifted his head. “Never, not once. I’m an honest young man.”

His friend shook his head and laughed, “I mean, I guess you’re not wrong.” Noctis stretched. “Mmm, getting tired.”

Prompto looked down at his phone to check the time, then he looked back at him, “Already? It’s only 11:45PM.”

“Unlike you, chocobutt, I had exams all day. Four to be exact. Exams take a lot out of me.”

“I forgot you have exams like every other month Mr. Elite University Student.”

Yes, unlike Prompto, Noctis was in the elite classes at their university. Only people with above average grades, with money, or both (which this was Noctis’ case) could get in these special classes. Prompto neither had the grades or money, so he was just in the regular university classes. Which he didn’t mind that much, elite classes were a lot tougher than regular classes. He had no idea how Noct did it, regular classes were tough enough on him. He supposed it was just yet another amazing feature about him.

“Well, if you’re planning on heading to bed, I best better be heading out,” Prompto said, uncrossing his legs. “Don’t want to be the one that makes Noctis all grumpy at the world by depriving him of his beauty sleep.”

Prompto got up to turn off the game console, Noctis spoke up, “Prom, why don’t… Why don’t you stay the night? You’re welcome to stay.”

Yes, that’s right. Even though they were best friends, Prompto had never spent the night Noct’s place. He refused every time Noctis had offered.

Prompto wanted to, he really did, but the thought of being alone late at night with Noctis made him nervous. He would never force himself on him, no, never in a million years. But, he felt as if he would say something to him that would be offline or weird in the midst tiredness or something. Even if Noctis never saw him a romantic light, (why would he be romantically interested in him anyway?) he wouldn’t want him to go away and be out of his life completely.  Just the thought of him not being there hurt him to the core.

Noctis continued, “I mean we’re friends, aren’t we? Friends can stay over at each other’s houses.”

The blonde nodded, “Well, yeah… but… I-” Prompto cut himself short. He had to think of an excuse fast, but nothing was coming to him.

“You can even sleep in my room. You don’t have to sleep out here.” Noctis told him before another yawn escaped him.

Prompto threw his hands up in defeat, “Okay, okay. I’ll stay… until you go to sleep.” he turned towards him. “No point in watchin’ you sleep. I mean I’m not going to sleep, I’m not even tired yet.”

“I’m starting to think you hate me a bit, chocobutt.” he said, pushing him in the direction of his room. “Just can’t stay the night with me, your best friend.”

Prompto stumbled forward a bit, “What a crazy notion, Noct. You may suck at one of the first video games I’ve ever played, but I could never hate you.”

“Can it!” Noctis pressed his hands into his shoulders, marching them into his room. Prompto laughed, briefly forgetting that he was now entering the room of potential (gods, hopefully, one day) lover. It was only when he heard the door close behind them, he realized where they were.

Within moments, Prompto’s hands began to shake, his throat became dry, and his mind was racing.

“Speaking which, have you ever been in my room? I don’t think you ever have.” Noctis walked past him, beginning to pull his shirt off.  Prompto’s eyes widened as Noctis’ toned stomach, chest, back was suddenly, so very suddenly, revealed. Holy. Gliding. Chocobos!

He had to press his lips together to keep his tongue from darting out and running across them. Never had he wished more that he had his camera with him. The types of shots that he could get now.  

Gods, did I just go there?! Prompto covered his mouth with his hand, he could already feel warmth spreading across his cheeks. He couldn’t stop staring at him, (he was so lucky that Noct was facing away from him) his eyes roamed up and down his backside. He swore to the heavens that Noctis was literally the most beautiful human being in the world. Whoever thought or said otherwise, could kiss his freckled ass.

Click… click…

Prompto’s ears perked and his eyes went lower, watching Noctis undo his belt and take it off. Oh! His pants were coming off now. The blushing blonde turned away quickly, he couldn’t dare watch him take off his jeans. He already knew that Noct’s ass looked great in those jeans he was wearing, (and not to mention feel great in them. He may or may not playfully, maybe sometimes deliberately, smack his ass a couple times… a few times… whenever the hell he could.) but to see him without them… he wasn’t sure his heart could take it.

Ziiip!

Prompto’s heart felt like it was going to burst. He listened as Noct took off his jeans and tossed them in the basket with his shirt. How could Noctis act so calm stripping off his clothes in front of him like this? He could only imagine… only imagine what he looked like now.  

“You got awfully quiet,” Noct paused, then snorted looking towards him. “Prom, what are you doing?”

“I’m just admiring this great paint job of your room! You know me! This starving artist loves to appreciate a great paint job!”

“But… my walls are all… gray.” Noctis began. “How could you appreciate such a dull color?  I mean, I like darker colors, but you… you’re more of a bright color kinda guy.”

Prompto glanced over his shoulder, making sure he was dressed again. He caught him in the middle pulling a pair of black sweats over his hips. Praise gods. He was a hundred percent sure that he would have to leave if Noctis would have ended up just wearing boxer shorts.

“Yeah, I dig bright colors mostly, but there ain’t nothing wrong with darker colors.”  He turned back around and gave a small smile. “As a matter of fact, if I learned anything from being an artist slash hobby photographer when you combine certain bright colors and dark colors you make one hell of a masterpiece.”

“Oh, I know. I can tell by the work and photos you’ve shown me.” Noctis climbed onto his king sized mattress. “I think you’re a great artist already.”

Prompto ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck, “Thanks.”

“Nothing but truth,” He yawned, pulling back his black comforter and gray satin sheets. “Are you seriously just gonna leave after I fall asleep? What if it takes me a while?”

“I doubt it will take you a while. You’re out like a light in ten minutes or less.” Noctis rolled his eyes, Prompto shrugged, sitting down in a nearby chair. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

“Shh, sleeping.” He covered himself up and rested his head on his pillow.

Prompto couldn’t help by laugh.

As predicted, five minutes after Noctis’ head hit the pillow, he was out like a light. It wasn’t predicted, however, that in only minutes after, he would be out too. Maybe watching Noct sleep made him sleepy himself or maybe he was more tired than he thought. Either way, he hadn’t seen that coming.

Another thing he hadn’t seen coming was the situation he was in now. At some point, he had woken up and gotten into his best friend’s bed. Because now, in this current moment, he laid right beside him holding him close. His arms were wrapped around his waist and Noct’s head rested comfortably against his chest, his hands gripped Prompto’s shirt.

The look of utter shock that was on his face (and he was a million percent sure there was a look of shock on his face)  when he had woken up that morning was most likely, completely priceless.  He almost screamed but didn’t because of the sleeping person in his arms. He didn’t have the heart or nerve of waking Noctis up, he looked so peaceful, so comfortable.

Prompto glanced over at the clock, it was almost noon. Knowing Noctis, he probably wasn’t going to get up for at least another hour or so. He was stuck in this position, stuck with Noctis in his arms. Stuck with his head resting on one of his many pillows that… smelled so nice. Stuck with his legs tangled up with his… brushing his fingers every so lightly against his lower back… listening to him to breathe… burying his face in his dark locks.

Was this really a “situation” so to speak? It was more like a fantasy come true. Well, at least one of a plethora fantasies.

Prompto scooted back a bit to get a better look at Noct’s sleeping face. He smiled gently, his heart swelled with emotion that only Noctis could fill his heart with. He lifted a hand up to his face, brushing away his bangs, “Is it weird that I think you’re extremely pretty at times?” he whispered. “You’d hit me if I called you pretty most likely.”

He stared into the face of sleeping man beside him, his eyes lowered slightly, “It’s not fair that you even get to look good even while you’re sleeping.”  His fingers lightly brushed down his cheek. “Totally not fair Noctis Lucis Caelum. Why do you get to be so perfect?”

Prompto bit his lip, resting his hand on his cheek, “It makes me wonder would you even consider… a guy like me to be your lover?” he paused. “I’m not strong or super smart or good with people. I’m not the best looking either.  I’m not perfect, not like you. No, I can never be like you.”

That was one of the main reasons (yes there were at least ten other reasons) that kept Prompto from confessing his feelings to the man. As Prompto learned more about Noctis and of his luxurious life, as he learned that he was used to only the best of the best and nothing less would do… he felt… as though he wouldn’t be good enough for him. Not as a lover, supporter, and sometimes he doubted himself as a friend.

Tears filled his eyes as his fingers spread across his back, “If you chose me Noct if you even considered me. I’d be the happiest guy alive. I… I would cherish you for the rest of my life.”

He closed his eyes, “Gods… see what you’ve done to me? Made me feel all this mushy, goopy stuff.” Prompt chuckled softly, brushing his thumb against his cheek. “Video games were the love of my life, then your ass came along.”

Noctis let out a content sigh and wrapped an arm around Prompto’s waist. He felt slender fingers curl into the back of his shirt.  Overwhelmed with emotion, Prompto in return pulled him in close again, embracing him tightly. He buried his face into his dark locks, tears escaping his eyes. I love you… gods I love you so much.

Prompto knew it was probably going to be awkward between them when Noct woke up. But for now, he was going to treasure and cherish this moment. Afterall, he may never get another like it.

#promptisfanweek #day 2 #promptis #promptis fanfic #prompto x noctis #noctis x prompto #my writing

[artificialqueens]

nostalgia in reverse: part one (thorcid) - featherpluckn

AN: This is a fic I’ve been marinating on and planning for a while now. I’ve always wanted to write a story inspired by the Stevie Nicks song, “Love Is”. If you’re interested in seeing where this fic is going, listen to this song. I apologize in advance.

I decided to do something a little AU with Thorgy still as a drag queen and Acid as a photographer. Bob makes a cameo in this first chapter but out of drag so I used his boy name.

Summary: Reverse Nostalgia - The odd feeling you get when you realize you are in a moment of time you will later feel nostalgic for…

Spring

Jamin didn’t mean to turn into the kind of person who needs to run a few miles every day to feel complete. It started as way to get off of the couch. A way to lose those pesky ten pounds age and slowing metabolism have made particularly stubborn.

The more he ran though, the more he craved the early morning solitude. Especially, since spring had finally graced Brooklyn with its presence. The early morning air is still brisk but the shining sun warms his face and it is such a freeing feeling.  

Jamin’s street is lined with trees blooming in shades of pink and white. His neighbor’s window boxes have exploded in purple and yellow. The cafes he runs past have sprouted umbrella topped tables outside that are fussed over by tired looking servers setting up for a rush of people looking for caffeine and carbs.

He’s loathe to admit the changing weather puts him in a good mood. The new season makes him wish he could bring along his camera and shoot mid-stride. He wants to try to capture this feeling to look at when the gray, slushy cold days of winter return.

This time of day means there isn’t much traffic crawling through the streets. He can retreat into a world where all he has to worry about is the dual burning in his lungs and legs, and the pulsing electronic beats in his ears. Out here on the street is where he meditates, and he lives for it.

*

Jamin is in special need of his respite early one Tuesday morning. It seemed like he had been editing the same set of five photographs all night. They just wouldn’t come together, and he finally decided to stop fiddling with them before he threw his computer through the window.

He was too jacked on Red Bulls to go to sleep and even though the sun had not quite risen and it was almost two hours earlier than his usual run, he slipped on his sneakers and headed out.

Jamin is mumbling along to the song in his earbuds when he hits his stride. He knows there is an uneven bit of cement coming up so he looks down to check how close he is to it. It only takes a split second, but when he looks back up it’s too late to stop himself from running into the person coming the other way.

The impact knocks them both back on their asses. Jamin keeps the back of his head from smacking into the pavement, but his elbows are what stop his fall and, fuck, that’s going to hurt later.

Before he can even peel himself off the pavement, the stranger is crawling towards him. The person is wearing a short colorful sequined dress, acid-washed ripped jacket, a battered pair of Toms, and their dreads are tied up on top of their head with a faded floral scarf.

The contour is fading but the heavy eyeliner, overdrawn lips, and painted freckles give away the drag queen probably coming home from a gig.

“Oh my god! Are you okay? I’m soooo sorry I ran into you. Even though, you were technically the one running. I’m never even on my phone usually. Ugh! Do you need first aid? I’ve taken the course but I’m technically not certified anymore but how much can it change really? I mean…just don’t let them die, you know what I mean?”

As their rambling comes to an end with a giggle, Jamin slowly pulls himself up to a sitting position.

“Are you hurt?”

“Ummm, I’m okay. I think my elbows are just scraped up. You really should watch whe-”

He is stopped mid-sentence by the sound of a bag being unceremoniously tipped out onto the sidewalk. What is apparently the person’s glasses land on top of the pile.

“Maybe I should have been wearing these. I would have seen you coming.”

The queen cackles and Jamin can’t stop himself from letting out an amused snort.

“I’m Shane, by the way.”

“Jamin.”

Shane starts rifling through the detritus in front of him but looks up suddenly and smiles.

“Ohhhh! I love your name! Sorry I ran into you, Jamin.”

Before Jamin has time to process the cute eye-crinkling smile Shane sends his way, the other man bends back over the open bag in front of him. He sifts through a patterned pair of pants, rhinestone covered pumps, two pieces of the same huge curly wig and finally unearths a pack of baby wipes.

“Woo! I knew they were in here somewhere.”

“You have a baby in that bag too?”

The queen giggles. “Nooooooo. They aren’t just for babies’ butts. They get out everything. Plus, it’s the only thing I have to clean up those elbows. We don’t want you getting tetanus or salmonella or whatever the fuck is on this sidewalk.”

Shane sits crossed legged right there in the middle of the damn pavement and takes Jamin’s arm gently in his hands.

Shane grimaces and bites his lip. “I’m not sure if this is going to sting or not. I’ve never used these to clean out a cut.”

“I can take it.”

“I bet you can.” Shane winks and sets to cleaning up the scrape on Jamin’s arm.

The intake of breath definitely comes from the cold wipe hitting his raw skin and not the flirty comment.

Shane sets to his task with the utmost concentration. His pink tongue pokes out a little while he tries to remove all the dirt from around the wounds. He leans back admiring his work when he’s done and then blows across the skinned area. Jamin starts a little at the unexpected sensation and Shane stops immediately.

“I’m sorry. Was that not okay? My mom used to do it all of the time. It always made me feel better but I’m not sure it has any legitimate medical purpose.”

“No. I mean, yeah it’s fine.”

Their eyes meet. Jamin isn’t sure what to think of the person in front of him. The situation is surprisingly intimate for two people who randomly ran into each other on the street. But he can’t say it’s bothering him. It really is fine and it is so not like him to be this accommodating to a complete fucking stranger.

“Good.”

Shane grins and digs through what is left in his bag pulling out a handful of loose Band-Aids.

“I think these might match your sneakers.”

Shane unwraps the bandages and Jamin can see they are bright neon pink and orange. He tries his best to cover the majority of the scrapes and sits back to admire his work.

“Looking good. Let me clean the other side and I’ll get out of your hair.”

Jamin makes a noise of agreement but while Shane once again starts to clean around his wounds all he can think of is how much he kind of wants to know more about a drag queen who carries an apartment worth of stuff around on his shoulder.

The feeling blindsides him. It has been a long time since he’s had the desire to get to know someone outside of a one-night stand, and even longer since anything remotely resembling a relationship. But there is something charming and magnetic about Shane, even in crusty half drag at sunrise. All he can think of as he looks down at the man’s long legs covered in ripped fishnets is what they look like under there. What does he do when he’s not entertaining drunk people in a bar for tips?  

Shane had just finished placing two more Band-Aids over the final scrapes when Jamin clears his throat.

“So, look…um…I don’t do this very often but is there any way I can have your number?”

The other man looks up slowly, mouth slightly open and eyes wide.

“A-Are you ser…What?….Of course. Sure!”

“Really?”

“Yes! I almost killed you. I probably look like an extra from The Walking Dead at this point in my night and you still ask for my number? And you’re a motherfucking cutie?” Shane scoffs loudly. “How can I say no?”

Jamin wraps his earbuds around his phone and hands it to Shane before he can change his mind. He punches in his number quickly and hands it back.

“Thorgy?”

Shane gestures around his face before answering. “Drag name. I figured you would be less likely to forget me that way.”

Jamin shakes his head and holds up his bandaged elbows. “I think you took care of that already.”

Shane starts digging through the pile of stuff on the cement and what’s left in his bag presumably looking for his phone. After a string of curses, he ends up handing Jamin an eyebrow pencil and what looks like a Subway receipt to write down his number.  

The two say their good-byes and Jamin takes off for his apartment once more, trying to make sense of the inexplicably strong feelings he has for a practical stranger.

**

When Shane gave Jamin his number, he didn’t think he would actually contact him.

It took two days for Jamin to text him, but he did.

Shane saved Jamin’s number in his contacts as Sidewalk Booty with no less than ten peach emojis because he may not have seen him coming, but he definitely saw him leaving.

The two decided to go out the following Friday after texting back and forth about the state of Jamin’s elbows for far too long but all he can think about throughout the exchange is how much he doesn’t know about the other man. He agreed to go out with someone he met on the street.

It isn’t a booty call and it isn’t a one night stand.

There will be eye contact and conversation and a whole night of putting himself out there. He breaks out in a sweat just thinking about it, but Jamin seemed genuinely nice with such a cute smile and beautiful eyes.

So, instead of blowing him off or pretending like he has plans he forgot about, he tells him to pick the place and text him the details.

Shane is proud of himself for exactly three minutes before he begins to freak the fuck out.

He recognizes the feeling and needs to find a way to center himself before his train of thought throws him completely off track.

He needs to find his happy place.

He needs to call Chris.

*

An hour later the two friends are in Shane’s favorite thrift shop. It has everything anyone could ever want all packed onto circular racks and hanging from hooks on every available surface. There are plenty of decisions to make so he doesn’t have to focus on the real life date he has in a few days.

The two shoot the shit about gigs for twenty minutes but the whole time Shane can feel Chris’ eyes on him. He knows his voice sounded shaky and high-pitched when he called him. He was stupid to think his best friend wouldn’t pick up on it.

They get through three racks of clothes before Chris finally gets it out of him, like Shane knew he would.  

“Okay, bitch. Spill. What has you all worked up?”

When Shane finishes going through the whole ordeal with Jamin, from the run-in to the walk-off to the impending date, Chris slowly puts the dress he was holding up to his body back on the rack, sighs heavily, and rubs his temples.

“So. Let me get this straight. You plow this guy down at the asscrack of dawn in a dress with Thorgy still all over your face, kiss his boos-boos, and he asks for your number?”

“I didn’t kiss his boos-boos.” Shane mumbles under his breath.

“Irrelevant. My point is, we’re all out here Tindring and Grindring and cruising hard for trade at the bar, and the bitch who can’t even figure out how to screenshot runs into someone on the goddamn street. Un-fucking-believable!”

“What exactly is Gr-”

“Who, if you are to be believed, is a gorgeous set of cheekbones with an immaculate ass?”

“Yes. That is all true but I don’t even know his last name or where he works or if he’s a serial killer who’s going to chain me up to his radiator and make me live off of Mountain Dew and Fruit Loops!”

“Oh my god! I told you to stop watching that true crime channel.” Chris makes his way around the rack of clothes shaking his head. He takes Shane by the shoulders and looks him dead in the eyes. “I love you, Shane. You are one of my best, good friends but you have to stop being afraid of things you haven’t planned down to the last detail. Sometimes life happens in the chaos. Let life happen to you.”

He’s right. Chris is right.

Being cautious is one thing, but letting it keep him from something that could possibly bring a little bit of joy into his life is ludicrous.

Shane takes a deep breath and pulls in Chris for a tight hug. “Thank you for talking louder than the voices in my head.”

“Well, don’t say I never did anything for you. Oh, but do me a favor please? At the very least, get yourself laid for Christ’s sake. What’s it been, two years?”

Shane jerks away with an offended gasp. “I hooked up with that guy two months ago, thank you very much.”

“Someone paying you $300 after a gig to spank them in a hotel room is barely a hook up.”

“There was a candle. It counts.”

**

It was embarrassing how much time Jamin had spent picking out a restaurant. He asked Shane his preferences and his response was less than helpful.

I will literally eat anything. I mean it. Chocolate-covered grasshoppers are delicious.

So, that really didn’t narrow down the choices.

In the end, he decided on a little place his sister had taken him for brunch a few weeks ago. It was a few blocks down from his apartment and he had walked passed it probably a hundred times without realizing what was inside. The restaurant’s exterior was nondescript but the unique setup inside made up for it. There were floor-to-ceiling books on one side surrounding the bar. Dark hardwood floors and reclaimed wood tables made the whole atmosphere cozy. The back seating area was a sunroom with white-washed walls and natural light flooding in through huge windows. There was also a garden patio complete with ivy-covered brick, and quaint little two-top tables perfect for when the weather would become even nicer in the coming months.

Something tells him Shane will appreciate the eclectic nature of the place.

*

Jamin had been nervous all day. He showered and shaved and changed his clothes three times but it was still too early to leave. He didn’t want to seem too eager, but they are meeting at the restaurant so he can always get a drink or two in before Shane gets there. Maybe it will help his nerves.

He is finishing up his second Jameson when Shane walks in precisely five minutes early.

The only thing the same about him is the dreads half tied back on his head. Shane is all boy this time, broad-shouldered and lean wearing a black and white patterned tee underneath a blazer with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and fitted gray slacks. With his face bare of makeup, Jamin can see he has a jawline to die for and he can make out pretty blue eyes behind his round glasses.

Jamin is so distracted by taking in Shane completely out of drag he doesn’t even notice he’s been staring until Shane raises an eyebrow.

The other man has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face when he says, “Hey! Nice to see you again!”

Jamin laughs at himself a little before responding. “It’s nice to you again too. Sorry. You just look so different from the last time I saw you.”

“Good different?”

“Yes. Yeah, really good different.”

Shane nods and before he looks down at his feet, Jamin can make out his genuine smile and the blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Can I hug you?”

Jamin hears himself say it but doesn’t think it’s really him. Because when’s the last time he asked anyone for a hug?

Honestly, probably never.

He knows he’s smiling with all his teeth too which probably looks a little odd to an innocent bystander but Shane just looks so shy and bashful and sweet at the compliment.

Shane brings his eyes back up and smiles even wider, opening his arms and coming forward.

Jamin is a few inches shorter than Shane so his chin fits right in the crook of his neck. He should be self conscious about the fact Shane can probably feel the sweat on his temple that popped up when he walked in, but he’s too preoccupied by the man’s racing pulse against his cheek.

It’s nice, and it has been a long time since Jamin has had anything nice in his life.

A few seconds after it starts, however, someone clears their throat behind them. Jamin turns to find the hostess trying to hide a smile.

“Sir, your table is ready.”

Jamin lets Shane go and follows the hostess. He gestures with his head for Shane to follow behind them. “C’mon, then.”

He feels Shane put his hand low on his back while they wind their way through the dining area towards their table in the sunroom, and he knows he’s grinning like an idiot again.

The weight of his hand is grounding. It makes him realize this is real. It isn’t some faceless person he’s fantasizing about while he’s trying to fall asleep at night. No matter what happens, he knows if he plays his cards right he could at least make a very good friend out of this.

**

Shane isn’t sure what his expectations had been for this date. Sure, he was hoping he’d have a nice meal with a nice man but even for someone usually so upbeat Shane can’t stop smiling.

As he sits down and opens the menu, he looks over at Jamin doing the same. The man looks absolutely delicious. His faux hawk is styled just so and he’s biting his lip around a piercing that Shane finds himself desperately wanting to know what it feels like to kiss.

It’s hard for Shane to see in himself what others see, but the way Jamin looked at him when he walked in set him on fire.

Even when he’s told himself he is absolutely not hooking up with this guy tonight. Absolutely, under no circumstances, will he give in and bend Jamin over this table right here in front of God and everybody on a Friday night.

He already feels a connection to him and he wants to see where that can go, damnit. Sex can complicate things for Shane. It makes him want to cling onto a person, and he confuses sexual attraction for something deeper.  If what he’s feeling is actually more than lust, everything will fall into place.

Then, and only then, they can fuck like bunnies. He nods his head at himself proud of his decision.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“You were just nodding your head. Did you find something you wanted to eat?”

Shane cackles abruptly because Jamin has no idea what he really wants to eat is him. Jamin starts chuckling too but still has a questioning look on his face.

“Just, um, I was thinking about how nice you look.”

Jamin looks genuinely surprised before he gestures down to himself. “I guess I found a way to make the Dad bod work.” He pulls a silly, wannabe sexy face that makes Shane laugh again.

“Dad bod? Please! I’ve never thought about any dad the way that sweater over those biceps is making me think about you.”

Shane is saved from saying too much more by the server coming over to go over the wine list and specials.

Once the two have ordered they make small talk over a couple of glasses of Shiraz. Shane learns Jamin’s last name, that he is a photographer, and that he cannot stand mayonnaise.

And Shane tells him how he got his drag name, that he plays the violin, and that he is obsessed with mustard.

The conversation flows easily. Even when Shane goes off on a tangent about this absolutely fabulous pair of suede booties he found thrifting the other day and what outfits he could wear them with for his next performance, Jamin looks so interested.

Around the time their meals arrive, the topic shifts. Shane is just taking a bite of his lamb chop when he hears Jamin sigh. He hopes he’s not boring him.

“You don’t like what you ordered? Do you want to switch?”

“No. That was a happy sigh.” He reaches over and grips Shane’s hand. “I just feel like this is going really well and I’m glad.”

“It is. There’s nothing worse than a bad first date.”

“Had a lot of them?”

“Well, no. Not particularly, but I’ve had a couple of doozies.”

Jamin lets go of Shane’s hand and swirls the red wine around in his glass before he asks, “Care to share?”

“No. I mean, yes I’ll share.” Shane giggles a little. “Maybe some joy can come out of my misery.”

Jamin sits back in his chair,  and makes a gesture with his hand for him to get on with it.

“Okay. So, there was this beautiful man that came to a few of my shows that  I enjoyed admiring from across the bar. One of those situations where I know I don’t stand a chance but, fuck! It doesn’t hurt to look, you know what I mean?”

“Nope. No clue because you are delightful.”

“And you are blinded by candlelight and a bottle of Shiraz. Anyway, so it turns out we have a friend of a friend of a mutual friend who ends up introducing us and we decide to go out. On paper he was great. He had a job, personal trainer, and he was coming to pick me up in the car he owned. Everything was setting up to be amazing. Well, he gets there and the first thing he tells me is I have to ride in the backseat because the front one is broken. It was a two door. So, me and all of my five feet of legs have to scrunch up in the backseat.”

He sees Jamin trying to not to spit out the food he just ate and he succeeds, barely.

“Yeah. We get to the restaurant and he eats off my plate. Not like asks if he can eat off of my plate or if he can have some. Just in the middle of a conversation starts eating my chicken parmesan.”

Jamin looks suitably offended on his behalf. “Is this guy for real?”

“It gets better. I was ready to bolt after that but he convinced me to go to a party at a friend’s house that was right up the block. I caved because I’m way too nice sometimes. We get there, he has two shots of Bicardi, and he is gone. The ass is slurring his words and hanging all over me. Ugh! Even people I didn’t know looked like they felt sorry for me.”

“I feel sorry for you, and this was how long ago?”

“A few years ago. Oh, but there’s more. He looks at me with this drunken, serious face and asks if we can go out on the porch to talk and cuddle. Cuddle. At that point, I was already formulating my escape so I figured outside was closer to freedom.”

Jamin laughs so loud the two tables beside of them turned to stare. “Oh my God! This is priceless.”

“So, we go outside and before we can even sit down I pretend like my phone is going off. I told him my dog was sick and got a ride out of there as quick as I could. I don’t even have a dog.”

By that point Shane can’t help it. He is laughing along with Jamin who is wiping tears from his eyes. “That takes so much pressure off of me. Holy shit! I promise not to eat your food.”

“What about you? Do you have a worst first date story? It can’t be as bad as mine.”

“I think the worst part about my dating history is that it’s probably been five years since I’ve even been on a first date.”

“Seriously? I don’t mean anything by that, other than you just seem so, I don’t know, dateable?”

Jamin waves off Shane’s worries, laughing softly. “I get what you mean and yes, at least five years. I was in a relationship with a guy for about four years. We ended up moving in together. I found out a week after arranging our furniture that he had been cheating on me for at least the last six months, and we broke up spectacularly. That was a year ago, and this is the first real date I’ve been on since.”

Shane knows he’s staring. He knows his jaw dropped but he just can’t believe it. He puts down his fork and  looks at Jamin who is trying to make himself smaller. He seems like he’s in another world, sipping his wine and looking at something past Shane’s shoulder.

“Hey” Shane says softly.

Jamin tilts his head slightly and grins crookedly at Shane. “I’m sorry for bringing down the mood.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Thank you.”

“And if it makes you feel any better. My bad first date guy texted me the next week and asked for his money back for the date since he ‘wasted his time’. I texted him ‘fuck off’ and haven’t heard from him since.”

Shane never thought he would be so glad to see someone laughing at something so mortifying.

**

Shane is like no one Jamin has ever met before. He laughs easily and often. There is a sparkle in his eyes that makes it hard to stop staring. He hopes he at least made it look like he wasn’t thinking about kissing the freckles he can see under Shane’s collar because he really didn’t want to be that guy quite yet.

They pick out a dessert to eat together and at least he can say it was shared with explicit permission.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be some scary footnote at the end of another date a few years from now.”

Shane snorted a laugh. “I promise not to stab you with my fork if you help me eat dessert.”

The two men leave the restaurant and walk without any real destination. Jamin kind of doesn’t want the night to end and he hopes Shane feels the same way. He’s trying to work up the courage to ask if he wants to do something else when Shane grabs onto his forearm to stop him.

“Okay. Here’s the deal. I’m going to get an Uber…”

“Did it go that bad?”

“What? Oh my God! No!”

Jamin laughs and shakes his head, running his hand down Shane’s arm. “I’m kidding.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, I was just going to say that I’m going to call for a ride because I don’t trust myself around you. Um, I’m really attracted to you….”

“I’m failing to see the problem.”

Shane scrunches his face up and turns to look down the street before he speaks again. “I don’t want to fuck this up and sometimes, well a lot of the time, I jump into bed with someone before I give it a chance to become something more. I don’t want to do that with you.”

Jamin relaxes a little when he realizes what the real issue is. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. It’s more than okay. I don’t want you to ever feel uncomfortable with me and if you want to go home I’m not going to stop you.”

He sees Shane’s face break out into a smile as he pulls out his phone. It takes a few minutes for him to find a driver but Jamin doesn’t mind. He hasn’t let go of Shane’s arm yet so he’s taking advantage of the gesture.  Plus, he’s really kind of adorable to watch when he’s trying to work technology. With an air of triumph, Shane finishes and he turns the screen around for Jamin to see.

“Alright. We’ve got 10 minutes. Do you want to make out a little?”  

Jamin doesn’t even answer. He just pulls him in by the grip he still has on his arm. Their lips meet and Jamin’s heart jumps into his throat.

It’s hard for him to describe how he feels in that moment. He just knows he’s not sure how he’s ever going to not do this again. He feels Shane hum a little against his lips before he pulls back.

Shane looks pretty content but he also looks like he’s trying really hard to figure something out. Jamin reaches up and touches his cheek. “Stop thinking so hard. Just kiss me again.”

The taller man grabs him by the back of the neck, bringing them together. He opens his mouth against Jamin’s using his tongue and their kiss turns hotter. Jamin moans and moves his grip to Shane’s hip to pull him closer.

He feels Shane lick his lip ring and nip at the flesh beside of it before he starts running his tongue along the roof of Jamin’s mouth. Jamin growls a little and moves him backwards towards the brick wall a couple of steps behind them. He puts his leg between Shane’s and tears his lips away to start sucking kisses along the bottom of his jaw. Shane whines a little and runs his hands through Jamin’s hair.

“That’s not fair.” Shane sucks in a breath when Jamin nibbles at the skin right under his ear, and presses his hips forward.

Jamin groans a little at the sensation. “Now who’s not playing fair.”

Shane chuckles mischievously, and Jamin kisses him hard again grinding his hips back into Shane’s, turning the chuckle into a whimper.

He anchors himself to Shane’s mouth with his hands in his dreads and angles his head to deepen the kiss. Shane runs his hands up Jamin’s shirt, ghosting across the planes of his back and Jamin takes the opportunity to grab a handful of ass. It seems like they are that way forever, running their hands over each other’s bodies, exploring, but in reality it’s only a few minutes.

Because with his hands in a very strategic location, he can feel Shane’s phone buzz in his pocket with a notification which he knows means his car will be here in a few minutes.

Jamin tries to pull away but Shane guides him back in, kissing him softly once more and then another time before he leans down a little to put his forehead on his.  

They are both breathing heavily trying to calm down a little. Jamin feels a little bit better knowing he isn’t the only so affected by their activities.

Jamin starts a little when Shane throws his head back, cracking up. He can’t help but laugh too because that laughter is really fucking contagious.

“I’m trying not to take offense to the fact you are laughing so loudly after kissing me.”

Shane calms down a little and grabs around Jamin’s shoulders swaying a little back and forth. “No, definitely not. It’s just… I was so worried to go on a date with someone I didn’t really know because they might be some crazy, psycho killer but, honestly, I don’t think I would even care if you tried to off me at this point.”

“Oh, really? Good to know.” And it’s Jamin’s turn to cackle then. Shane breaks away batting Jamin on the shoulder.

Shane’s car pulls up at that moment and Jamin grabs the bottom of his shirt, bringing him in closer for one last kiss. When he finally gets enough, he looks back up through his lashes at the grinning, beautiful man in front of him.

“So, I’ll see you again?”

Shane giggles and shakes his head incredulously.

“Just try getting rid of me.”

#thorgy thor #acid betty #thorcid #au #fluff #nostalgia in reverse #featherpluckn #rpdr fanfiction #queen au #m/m au

[titriwrites]

Scoop! - Chapter 4

A/N: A little earlier than expected, but I’m in the right mood to update. And mayyyyyybe, chapters 5 and 6 are around the corner as well. Have fun!

Not A Date Night

It’s been two days since they’d spoken about dinner which meant that now, on Friday evening at 6 p.m., Jo had to hurry to make it back home from work in time. She needed about half an hour from the Daily News building to her flat. Then she was about to meet Tom at 7:15. They decided on The Porchester, an English Pub which served Burgers as well as fish, and Bangers and Mash, since Tom had been away from England for so long that he missed the typical English food and Jo thought the pub had the least obvious date vibe.

So, when she hastily grabbed her things, and saw William shooting her a knowing wink and smile, Jo just rolled her eyes instead of getting into a discussion about personal space and her boss trying to get on her nerves. He had almost cornered her that morning, asking for updates after their editorial meeting. Luckily, Jo had another article to write, and three in line for additional editing. A normal day at work and not an exciting task at all, but that morning she could not have been happier. The young woman didn’t know how often she would have to tell William that he would get the news as soon as she got them. Without yelling or cursing at him, if possible.

“You’re in a hurry today, aren’t you, darling?” Jo’s co-worker, Mary, spoke from her side, just as Jo was about to get to the elevator.

“Yes, I have to go, I’m meeting –“

“Tom?” Mary finished for her.

That made Jo stop and look at the blonde 42-year-old with slightly wide eyes. “How do you know about Tom?” she asked, forgetting the elevator and her ride back to her flat for a moment. Did William say anything to her? Jo thought she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, that was exactly the reason she didn’t tell Sam and Nick – and Mary, whom she considered her friend as well.

The slightly older woman chuckled at that. “Sam couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Said he wanted to go out himself and that you wouldn’t be home, either. When I asked where you’d be, he told me you’ve met someone and that you’d have a date tonight,” she then smirked.

Jo huffed. “It’s hardly a date. We’ve met once and go to The Porchester. Just two maybe-friends going for a burger,” she explained, rather conveniently in her opinion. “By the way, do you always talk about me when I’m not around?”

“Most of the time, yes,” Mary winked. “But I leave you to it now,” she said as she almost pushed Jo into the elevator. As if she wasn’t the one that made her late in the first place. “And tell me everything about your date on Monday. Or better yet, text me.”

“It isn’t a –“, but Jo didn’t have time to respond as the elevator doors closed on her. She sighed. This wasn’t a date at all. It absolutely wasn’t supposed to be a date and it wasn’t one.

***

She looked beautiful. She really did look beautiful and cute and lovely. So much that Tom had to pinch himself to not get caught up in her, and actually focus.

They’ve met at 7:15, though, Jo was a little out of breath when she arrived, but she was on time nevertheless. They’ve made the reservation in her name – Kramer was her last name, he learned – mostly to stay relatively anonymous. Hiddleston did have quite the ring to it. Now they were sitting at a table in the back of the restaurant, something Jo must have requested when making the reservation, and something he was glad for. Except the one odd look from the waitress, who recovered pretty quickly, they didn’t seem to be bothered by anyone. At least, Tom didn’t see any smartphone flashes so far.

He couldn’t take the eyes off the brown-haired woman in front of him, with her light make-up and sparkling green eyes. She had taken off her dark-grey coat with white highlights, and sat in front of him with a simple black dress and black tights, which she donned with a pair of grey-white-black striped shoes. She looked adorable, yet feminine and simple like – her.

At the moment they talked about their week, respectively. They had ordered their meals and drinks – a grilled plaice fillet with roasted vegetables paired with a Chardonnay for Jo, and Bangers and Mash with a beer for himself – and were now chatting along. Jo had a lot of editing to do during the week, as well as some articles to write, and was at the office from half past seven in the morning up to at least half past six, he learned. Tom had a lot of meetings, mostly about his upcoming visit to South Sudan and his appearances at the Evening Standards Theatre Awards as well as the preparation for the documentary he was working on at the moment. It was luck they were both free this Friday evening, it seemed.

They talked lightly, though there was one question Tom had, ever since Jo had sent him the address of the pub.

“Jo, you said you live close, right?” Tom asked, just as their food arrived and they were ready to dig in.

She raised an eyebrow as she chewed slowly and then swallowed. “Yes, I do. I’ve walked for maybe three minutes.”

“So, how come I had to ride almost 40 minutes on the Tube, then?” That wasn’t the question he really meant to ask, though. “Or better, yet: what the hell were you doing in a café, at not yet 9 o’clock on a work day and 40 minutes away from your home?” That was pretty unusual, was it not?

Jo swallowed again, despite not taking another bite while he was asking his question. “Well, you see, my co-worker and friend, Mary, she lives in Belsize Park. She got into a row with her husband and he said he was going to stay at a friend’s for the night. So, the very good friend I am, I went over there the night before and comforted her and stayed the night. The next morning, he came home, and I didn’t feel like intruding, and left. So, I ended up at the café. Thank god, I didn’t have to be at work until lunch. The only day of my week, that wasn’t coated in stress, really,” she explained. Well, that sounded better than Tom’s idea of her stalking him.

“That actually explains a lot. I hope they’re fine now?”

“Oh, don’t worry. They’ve known each other for twenty years. A little dispute over something minor won’t end their marriage.”

“My parents didn’t even make it to the twenty year mark.” Tom had no idea, why he shared this with Jo. Maybe, because he already learned that her parents were divorced as well, and he didn’t have to play the ‘I had the perfect childhood’-game with her.

She let out a short snort before she said, “Well, my parents made it past the thirty year mark, and still got a divorce. Time isn’t really a factor here. If you’ve known someone for forty years or one month, it really is the feeling that counts. It can be as real after a few weeks as it is after a few years.”

“Yeah, my last relationship –,” he stopped himself there. That really wasn’t something to talk about on the first date. Even, if it wasn’t a date at all.

But that topic seemed to arouse Jo’s curiosity. “What about your last relationship? Well, to be fair, it’s not like I haven’t read about it, but as someone who’s a journalist, I can admit, that you don’t always get the whole truth unless it fits the picture.”

“Wow, do I sense some self-criticism there?” It was meant to be a joke, but Jo’s serious expression told him that it was indeed that.

“Well, you know the saying that you shouldn’t believe in statistics that you didn’t doctor yourself? In some ways, that counts for journalists, too. They’re pretty aware of what they leave out of a story and what they put in there. You already learn that in your studies. Good journalists just tend to try and gather all the information, and actually use it, too.”

“That sounds like a pretty reasonable approach to me.”

“It really is,” Jo answered with a smile, and Tom almost dropped his fork, so beautiful she looked in that moment. Her green eyes sparkled, her lips parted a little and he could have counted her freckles right then and there.

Instead, he cleared his throat. “Yes, well. There still isn’t really much to tell. It was real, it was fast, and it ended quickly.” That really was all there was.

“Okay, so let me tell you about my last relationship, and maybe it makes you open up,” she winked then. “I was with Markus for almost a year, and we didn’t meet each other’s parents really, basically because we met in Hamburg and that was not where our families lived. It still didn’t last. So, I really don’t think, that anyone should compare their relationship to anyone else’s.”

“Why didn’t it last, then?”

“Hm. That’s a pretty good question.” Jo looked around the room as if she was searching for an answer there, before looking back into Tom’s eyes. “The lack of romance, maybe? I know, you’ve got some criticism, because the last relationship went pretty fast, but when you take too much time, and you’re too careful – well, that wasn’t right for me. I guess, it just wasn’t that exciting. Not that we could have jetted off to Italy and Australia in the first month,” she then winked and grinned at Tom.

He let out a small laugh. She did have a point there. They did go all in pretty much overnight. “It was real, though,” he answered her unasked question. “Just because some pictures weren’t that sudden and unforeseen doesn’t mean everything was fake. We just thought that not hiding wouldn’t give them that many reasons to stalk.”

Jo actually snorted at that. It was a cute sound, Tom just didn’t know if he was supposed to be amused by it or offended by the meaning behind it. “That didn’t really work out, did it?” she then mumbled, more to herself than actually asking him.

Tom answered anyway. “It did in some aspects. We weren’t photographed all the time.”

“Oh, come on, Tom. It was like, they knew every single one of your locations. I’m pretty sure you and her respectively could go out before, without every step of you being recorded. But fame doesn’t work that way, huh?”

He knew, she didn’t want to sound mean, he really did. But somehow, Tom still had the strange urge to defend himself. “I never was one for hiding. I always went out and did my thing, and if there were fans or paps, I still had fun. And I just continued like that. It was just, that she –“.

“She had kind of an image to keep? Or lived her life differently?” Jo interrupted him.

“The second option.” It was the first time he talked this freely about his summer with someone apart from his younger sister, Emma, Chris, and Luke. He didn’t really care.

Jo nodded. “I understand that. It’s basically the same in every other relationship. You have to figure out how to compromise, if you’re not already frighteningly alike. You just seemed to be figuring each other out quite publicly and famously. But yes, that’s the same for every couple, I guess. So, how did it end? If you don’t mind me asking?”

Strangely, he didn’t. “Well, we figured each other out. And after the honeymoon phase, we realised that she wasn’t over her ex, and I wasn’t ready to either hide or act differently in public. And then it ended after the summer.”

“So, it was real?”

“Yes, it was. As real as a rebound can be.”

“And meeting the parents after a month of dating.”

Tom felt himself blush at the mention of his mother – his entire family, actually – being involved in his summer activities, without really getting the change to decline being out in the open. “Yeah, that went pretty fast as well. But, the visit was planned for me anyway. Maybe not with that much attention.”

Jo smiled a little, and gave him an encouraging look. “As long as anyone involved was okay with it, you’re on the safe side I guess.”

“I am. I really am,” he smiled back, eating the last of his meal and feeling a little lighter after talking about his summer so someone else.

***

“You really didn’t have to walk me to the door, Tom,” Jo said, as they stood in front of the building she lived in, after having spent the evening dining, laughing, and talking.

“It really is the right thing to do, Josefine. Couldn’t let you walk alone in the dark.” She resisted the urge to close her eyes and let his smooth voice invade her senses. Yes, he had a great voice, and god yes, he did look so good in his black trousers, white shirt, and grey coat. Fucking beautiful, but maybe that was the wine talking.

The fact was, she did have a lovely evening. If it was a date, she would certainly expect a kiss. But it wasn’t a date, and unfortunately all she gathered from the evening wasn’t really newsworthy as well. His relationship wasn’t fake, yay. Not really something, she could write in an article. ‘The scoop on Tom Hiddleston: He didn’t lie about his summer’ wasn’t really the headline she was going for. To make matters worse, he was even nicer than she expected, and more beautiful and charming as well, and she now had to tell Mary that she obviously had marital problems with her husband of twenty odd years.

“We’ve literally just walked for three minutes, and you have to go all the way back to get the Tube, Tom,” she tried to argue. But, she got to know him a lot better that evening, and knew that this really wasn’t a moot point to him.

“A lot can happen in three minutes,” Tom answered and then actually blushed. “Well, you know, you getting robbed for example. Wasn’t meant to be cheeky here.”

Jo chuckled and was just about to answer, when she saw a couple behind Tom’s back, approaching fast. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled and saw Tom’s confused look.

“What is it? Is it something I’ve –“.

But he didn’t get to finish. Instead, Jo could already feel herself blush and saw Nick’s attempts to hush his boyfriend, but behind Tom, Sam already exclaimed loudly, “Oh, what a surprise, darling Josefine. Had fun?” Tom turned; seemingly surprised at hearing Jo’s name, and Sam and Nick came to a halt in front of them. “Hi, I’m Sam, and this is my boyfriend Nick,” he started to introduce them, “You must be Tom -,” he stopped then, “- fucking Hiddleston?!”

Jo would have laughed, if she wasn’t so mortified. Tom on the other hand just chuckled. He clearly was used to the reaction. “Hi,” he said, offering his hand, “I’m Tom. And you’re the roommates, I assume?”

While Sam could only nod, Nick shook Tom’s hand, and at the same time gave Sam a little shove. “We are. And we must get upstairs now. It was nice to meet you. Come on, Sam. Jo, see you soon.” And off he went, a stunned Sam trailing behind him, holding onto his hand and giving Jo a look that promised a detailed discussion later on.

Jo blushed and hid her face as soon as the two of them were alone again. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, “That was beyond embarrassing.”

“It really wasn’t,” Tom laughed, “I’ve dealt with much worse encounters. But I guess, you really didn’t tell them, who you’ve met?” He actually seemed to be impressed.

She just shrugged in response. “It really didn’t matter to me. I’ve said I’d meet Tom and I did.”

“You really did,” he smiled. “So –“. Well, that was a little awkward now. “I’ll see you?”

“Yes,” Jo breathed, “you will.”

Tom opened his arms a little and Jo went for the hug. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was more than just friendly. It was nice. “Get home safe, please,” Jo mumbled into his coat and smelled his aftershave.

“I will,” Tom whispered back, and all too soon the hug was over. Instead he beamed at her. “I’ll text you? Or call you?”

“That’d be great.”

“Great.” With that, Tom slowly stepped backwards, not without waving one last time, before he turned and walked back the way they’ve come just five minutes ago.

He smelled so good, Jo thought, and she was so screwed.

#scoop fanfic #chapter 4 #jo + tom