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1986harrington · 1 year

Note

a prompt list!!!!!!! yesssss i’ve missed your sweet sweet writing!! best friday ever! can i request 1 with our boyf steve pretty please??

Steve Harrington x fem!reader Prompt: #1: Don't talk to me, someone might think we're friends Summary: You and Steve work at Family Video, but you don't get off to the best start (bickering!enemies to lovers) Word Count: 1.5k

You had been working at Family Video for about six months before Steve Harrington tumbled in the door - all long legs, flailing arms and floppy hair, too bright eyes and an annoyingly contagious smile.

You tried your best to show him the ropes, you really did. But some days you swore he was deliberately messing it up. It was almost like he wanted Keith to toss his jobless ass back out into the parking lot. You knew from highschool that Steve hadn’t always been the sharpest tool in the box, but it wasn’t like this job was rocket science. There was absolutely no way anyone was this incapable of rewinding tapes and knowing what alphabetical order meant.

On top of all that, he just irked you. He left half-finished cups of coffee everywhere he went, which he usually ended up spilling over something important. He repeatedly stole what you had claimed as your unofficial favourite parking spot, even when the lot wasn’t full. He was never on time, he had the attention span of a goldfish and he never seemed able to do a job from start to finish.

“I think maybe part of the issue here is that you like him, and you just don't wanna admit it.” Robin had unhelpfully suggested a few months back, when you began listing off these reasons to her mid-rant for the third time in a week.

Robin had called Steve out on it pretty early too, saying that the reason he deliberately wound you up was because his brain never progressed past the stage of playground teasing and pigtail pulling when he liked a girl.

You had both denied it resolutely, absolutely adamant in your dislike for each other.

Until last Tuesday night.

***

You had been on shift with both Robin and Steve, but it was the quietest night of the week and with Keith not around, Robin had tossed her keys at Steve over the counter as she headed for the door early to get ready for her date night with Vicki.

“Robs, you can’t be serious!” You yelled after her as she opened the door. The chime rang out above her head as she turned to face you, walking backwards and gesturing to her ear as if she couldn’t hear you despite being less than 10 feet away from where you were standing.

“Love you guys! Play nice, make good choices!”

The door swung shut with another chime, silence falling around you both in the now empty store.

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but before any words could make it past his lips, you were holding a hand up to him, the other pinching at the bridge of your nose as you closed your eyes.

“Whatever you’re about to say, Harrington? Just don’t.”

“Listen, I’m not exactly thrilled about being stuck here with you either, alright?”

You choked out a laugh, turning to face him now with a hand on your hip.

“And what exactly do you have to be 'not thrilled' about?" You air-quoted back at him.

"I’m not the co-worker who’s messy, and lazy and just generally incompetent at every little task I’m given!” You yelled, blood rushing up your chest to colour your cheeks in frustration.

“No, you’re right.” Steve said, with more of an edge to his tone than you’d heard before. He pushed himself off the stool he’d been perched on behind the counter, rounding it until he was standing in front of you.

“You’re the co-worker who thinks that just because she’s pretty and smart that it’s fine to be an insufferable, pain-in-the-ass control freak with a superiority complex!”

“You think I’m pretty?” You interrupted, eyes narrowing at him curiously.

“I- what?” Steve stammered, his cheeks now a shade of rosey that matched yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the way both of you were breathing a little heavier.

“You said I was pretty.” You repeated before adding ‘and smart’, for good measure.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did." He admitted, throwing hands up and letting them fall back by his sides, exasperated. "And of course you'd choose to focus on that and ignore literally all of the other things I said. Maybe we should add narcissist to the list-"

You cut him off by gripping the front of his stupid polo and pulling him down towards you as you pressed up on your toes. Your lips met his and at first he was still against you. You could feel the confusion in the way his body was tense against yours and it lasted just long enough that you began to consider pulling back - that maybe you’d made a colossal mistake and totally misread the energy that had been simmering between you and that Steve wasn’t interested in you at all like that.

That maybe he genuinely didn’t like you at all.

Your mind had begun to wander to the possibilities of dying simply from sheer embarrassment alone, when you felt a warm, strong arm wrap around your waist and lift you off your feet, his lips finally moving against yours.

You pulled back from him just long enough to let out a yelp as he turned and placed you up on the counter, one hand on your hip sliding you toward him, the other tangling in the hair at the back of your head.

“Is this okay?” He asked, breathless against your cheek, lips brushing your jawline and when you only nodded, his mouth dropped lower to press a kiss over your racing pulse.

“Words, Princess. You’ve usually got plenty of ‘em.”

You felt his grin against your flushed skin, the faint scratch of his stubble against your throat sending a new wave of sensation through your body until your legs were wrapping around him, pulling him closer.

“D’you wanna keep kissing me, Harrington, or d’you wanna run your mouth instead?” You propositioned him, and he hummed as if he was considering his options, despite the fact he was still kissing his way along your neck and back up to your jaw.

Once he was eye-level with you again, you quirked a brow.

“Words, remember?”

His lips were plush, his bottom one plump and rosey from where you'd had it between your teeth and when he went to speak, a grin tugging at the corners, you pressed a finger there and he stilled.

“Just so you know, there’s only one answer that gets you laid.”

The grin pulled at his features fully now, reaching all the way to his eyes that you swore were darker now than they’d ever been before. He pushed a chaste kiss to your fingertip that was still pressed against his lips, before taking it between his teeth and nipping gently.

You gasped, feeling the wet of his tongue against your skin before your hand slipped from his face and fisted in his vest.

“I guess I’ll shut up now, then.” He finally answered, mouth back on yours as his hands slid up your shirt.

***

“Do me a favour, Harrington? Don’t talk to me, someone might think we’re actually friends.”

“Ouch,” Steve hissed with a grin, one hand thrown over the other dramatically against his chest as he pretended to stagger backwards. You rolled your eyes with a scoff, shouldering past him with an armful of tapes.

“Friends? You’re gonna look me in the eye and tell me we’re not even friends after what we did in here last week?”

You shot him a look over your shoulder that dared him to keep going, so he did.

“And then in my car on the way home? And then on your couch once I finally got you home? Hey, remind me - was it my bed next, or yours? Or the bathroom at that party over on Maple?”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“Around you? When I know it either, a) annoys you or, b) turns you on? No way. That’s a win/win, if you ask me.”

“Yeah? Well too bad no one asked you.”

“You did. Literally two seconds ago-”

“Steve, I swear to God-”

“So it’s option A today. Got it. Good to know.”

He made his way over to you in silence, taking some of the tapes out of your arms and helping you restock the shelves. He took the ones belonging on the higher shelves so you didn’t have to reach up, and you took the lower ones so he didn’t hurt his back leaning down all the time. There was the occasional bump of the shoulder and the brushing of fingers that sent a palpable enrgy zipping through your body, which you fought to ignore. And then there was the fact that you were close enough to smell each other - Steve all fresh soap and sandalwood, and you sweet, like cherries dipped in vanilla - and it was driving you both insane.

When Robin strolled in a half hour later for her afternoon shift, she observed you both for second - noting the absence of yelling and name calling.

“Look at you two,” She finally announced, one hip leaning against the counter as she slurped her milkshake obnoxiously through the straw. You both turned to face her, your eyes rolling at the smug smirk on her face.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two actually liked each other."

"Robin, you've been here less than thirty seconds. Don't make me tell you to shut up already." Steve drawled, turning back to the shelves.

"Who knows," Robin continued, as if he hadn't even spoken. "Some might even say you could be friends.”

She pushed off the counter, skipping past you both on her way to the breakroom, ruffling Steve’s hair as she passed by. Once she was gone, you dug him in the ribs with your elbow.

“I told you,” You scolded, but when his eyes landed on your face, there was no malice, only a hint of a smile.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #jade writes prompts

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hogwartsfirebolt · 3 years

Text

timebomb

for @drarrymicrofic prompt "better than fighting" (did I intend for this to be 2.3k no i did not)

The day Harry slept with Malfoy for the first time, was also the day he bruised his knuckles punching his boss in the nose.

The impossible chain of events that led to that stupid, ridiculous, unthinkable conclusion — sleeping with Malfoy, of course, not punching his boss — started two weeks earlier, when Robards slammed a shiny red folder on his desk and said, Sixteen werewolves disappeared yesterday. Find them.

Sixteen werewolves, three families. Including children.

Everyone knew Harry went crazy when children were involved.

In under two days, he found clues that seemed to suggest a high member of the Wizengamot was responsible and launched himself into an apprehension mission without filing for the permit, because he was sure every second that passed, more werewolves were getting kidnapped. He ended up escorting a furious Member Breckenridge to a holding cell.

Robards failed to see his logic, however. It turned out Breckenridge was working with the department in an attempt to catch the actual criminal, and Harry got reprimanded for skipping procedure.

But Harry, tired as hell of having information kept from him for the nth time in his life because, well, Dumbledore, exploded.

He didn’t even feel sorry as he yelled at Robards in front of the entire department for sending him blind into a case that could’ve compromised the wellbeing of so many creatures, including children, and how could he, when Harry could very well have saved them if only he’d known, and — that was about the time he walked up to Robard’s desk and punched him right in the nose.

So, that was the first impossible event in the series of impossible events.

The second was as follows: Harry was put on desk duty for at least six months, Potter, you should thank Merlin I’m not firing you.

This, in Harry’s opinion, should definitely be considered an impossible event. He hadn’t been on desk duty for five years, and had thought himself free of the burden, forever. He’d been wrong.

The consequences to his confinement became rapidly evident, however. For starters, every single person sharing the wide room that served as the headquarters to the Auror force filed a complaint before the clock had struck six that very evening. The Aurors were a notoriously conflictive sort, hardly ever agreed on anything, so the fact that they were all together in their fear was the third impossible event. To be fair, it was terrifying. Harry’s absolute lack of respect for authority coupled with his inability to sit still for even a second made every one of his coworkers fear for their life now they knew they’d be subjected to the rage of the caged tiger for at least six months.

So, all of Harry’s coworkers filed said complaint — all of them, including the incidental employees from other departments that had to pass through Auror quarters for one reason or the other — and stayed within a 10 feet radius of his desk at all times as he fumed so hard he half thought steam would come out of his ears.

The fifth impossible thing was that the only one person who stepped into the office and didn’t immediately run to Robards to make sure they weren’t hallucinating Harry aggressively punching holes through his stationery at the desk he hadn’t occupied in five years, was Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy showed up in the vibrant blue robes that marked his position as a member of the Department of Invoices, Correspondence and Credit, or, as Harry liked to call them, glorified mailmen, and leaned over his desk with a snooty smirk, not appearing surprised to see him.

He’d never been afraid of him, after all.

“If it isn’t the man who made Robards walk into his afternoon meeting with a bloody nose,” he said, apparently fucking oblivious to the very obvious signals Harry’s body was sending him to shut the hell up — the tense fists, the clenched teeth, the jumping muscles of his jaw. Malfoy didn’t see any of it. He continued, “well, what could we have expected, really, you’ve always been rather ... ah, ill-mannered,” and continued, “member Breckenridge had an interesting story at lunch earlier,” and continued, “escapes me how Robards was surprised by your acting on your first impulse, after all …”

And then Harry shut him up. He stood up abruptly, slammed his palms on the desk and leaned into Malfoy’s space, lip curled. He knew, logically, that he was being unreasonable. He also knew he kind of wanted to snarl.

Malfoy blinked, startled.

“What the fuck do you want?” Harry asked. Malfoy kept blinking at him. “Were you here for a reason, or did you come here looking for a fight? Because I will fight you, Malfoy, I -“

“Circe, you’ve got mail,” interrupted Malfoy, waving a neat stack of letters before setting them down by Harry’s hole puncher. “You ought to be kept on a leash, I swear to Merlin.”

Harry was seething by then, however, and decided snarling didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.

And somehow, after he had delivered a comeback and Malfoy kept pestering him anyway, he found his fingers clenching around the front of Malfoy’s robes, pulling him towards the archive room, through a small door, and apparating him to his house in London. Malfoy’s house. Harry wasn’t very sure how he knew the address well enough to end up there, but he did and he had. This was the sixth impossible thing.

Malfoy spluttered, raged, but his hands pulled Harry close and into the house and it happened.

Harry slept with him. This was the stupid, ridiculous, unthinkable conclusion.

Thinking back on it, he was inclined to say that he’d been out of his mind, but the truth was, he’d had plenty of time to back off, and he hadn’t.

Even more ridiculous, even more unthinkable, was the fact that it … did something to him. After they’d had a go at it in Malfoy’s couch, Harry’s anger had — not disappeared, exactly, but it had been taken over by something bigger, stronger. A raging hunger he’d not experienced in … possibly ever.

And by then he’d been so, so angry for so many years, that he was hesitant to let go of the new feeling. He’d slipped his thumb into Malfoy’s mouth, and they’d had another go at it on his living room floor, and then another in the kitchen, and another in the bedroom, right before passing out, worn out and not angry, for the first time in longer than he’d care to admit.

He felt ashamed of it in the morning, as he was forced to vanish the evidence of their coupling from his chest and thighs, as he apparated home and scrubbed himself down in the shower, as he went to work and kept his head down, sure everyone would take a look at him and know he’d gone and done the unthinkable.

But even the shame was different from the everlasting anger he’d carried.

As he sat at the dreaded desk and curled his lip at the stupid, prying coworkers who stared at him, he found he couldn’t muster up the rage to continue punching holes through all his case reports, and proceeded to be so incredibly embarrassed that his face blushed bright red and he had to pretend to choke on his tea and cough violently so nobody would suspect a thing.

Around the sixth time he did the entire tea-choke-cough thing to fight yet another memory of the night before, the door to the headquarters slammed open and in walked Draco Malfoy, with a swagger to his step and a grin so bright that Harry’s hatred for him was turned up to eleven and intensified past stratospheric levels. Inexplicably, he wanted to run.

“Potter,” Malfoy said, white teeth flashing. Harry thought of a panther, then scowled because no way was intimidating a word he was willing to associate with the little shit standing in front of him, and willed himself to think of a stupid, raging, harmless house cat. Much more fitting. He made a mewling sound similar to theirs, anyway, when he – “Missed me?”

“Why are you talking to me?” Harry asked, digging inside himself for the anger, for something to hurl at Malfoy and run away, escape his maddening smirk, but he came up short.

Malfoy’s grin widened.

“Oh, you know, the usual.” He said, and it indeed was the usual — oblivious as usual, infuriating as usual, then leaned right into Harry’s space, crowding him against his chair and hitting him with his disgusting, revolting, nauseating, fresh minty breath. Then, he showed him a thin envelope. “Your mail.”

Harry snatched it from him. “Good. Now piss off.”

“As you wish. See you later.”

“Not if I can help it.”

He could still hear Malfoy’s laugh, even after he’d left and closed the door, could still feel the disgusting, revolting, nauseating minty breath inside his nostrils, and if he wasn’t careful he could still feel the shape of Malfoy’s mouth around his —

He most definitely was not seeing him later.

Harry told himself this all day. Not seeing him later, he told himself as he stood in front of Robards after he’d summoned him for a ‘meeting’ that was really just a load of bullshit on protocol and procedures and useless things Harry did not give a damn about. Not seeing him later, he told himself as he bought a salad at the café two streets down the ministry and smiled back at the lovely waitress. Not seeing him later, he told himself as he sat at his desk and found himself capable of punching holes after all, but not exactly out of anger.

Not seeing him later, he told himself after his shift was over and he left headquarters.

Not seeing him later, he told himself, as he apparated straight into Malfoy’s living room.

And there he was.

For a second he looked surprised, vulnerable, a flash in his eyes as he took Harry in that spoke of uncertainty. Then, he looked as thought he’d been expecting him.

“You couldn’t help it, then?” He asked, stepping forward and not making any sense whatsoever.

“What are you talking about?” Harry said. It came out low, and not at all the way he’d intended.

“You said you wouldn’t see me if you could help it.” There was triumph somewhere in that sentence, or an attempt at it. There was also a tremble right in the middle, a fracture.

A red, pulsating curl of – of something rose inside Harry’s belly, and he grabbed onto it with desperation, thinking it was there, the anger, safety. But as he took it, owned it and stepped forward to punch Malfoy in the nose as he’d done Robards the day before, he found himself pushing him up against the wall instead, and bringing his face very close to his.

Malfoy’s eyes were a ring of silver overtaken by the wide abyss of his pupils. Awful, disgusting, they made Harry think of ugly murky waters and nasty storm clouds and made him want to retch.

He slid a hand into wispy, blonde, awful, disgusting, revolting hair and pulled him into a rough kiss that was all teeth.

They had a go at it on the living room floor, then another two in the bedroom, before collapsing from exhaustion.

When their wand alarms went off at the same time in the morning, Harry opened his eyes to see Malfoy between his legs. No time for shame.

Afterwards, they padded downstairs, Malfoy two steps ahead of him, wearing nothing. Harry couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look away.

It was different in the morning light.

Malfoy was different, his naked body as he made them sandwiches was different, his eyes resembled something other than murky waters and his hair brushing against his forehead, against the constellations of freckles on his cheekbones was different, and his bare feet, light and silent on the hardwood floors were different, and the curve of his arms and the planes of his chest were different, and his cock hanging between his legs looked different, and Harry — Harry also felt different.

There was the usual racing of his heart, but no trace of anger, the usual heat in his chest and stomach, but not a sign of rage, the usual need to put his hands on the other person, but no want for violence.

He felt his fingers tremble as he poured water into an empty cup.

“Mayo?” Malfoy asked, low, sleepy.

Harry swallowed. “Yeah.”

Malfoy hummed, and Harry stared as he spread mayo onto his bread. At the work of his long, bony fingers. He tried to think they were disgusting, and couldn’t.

“Here,” Malfoy said, handing him the plate when he was done. Harry took it, put it aside.

They had another go at it in the kitchen.

“Isn’t it better?” Malfoy asked, breathless, pushing back against him, hands planted on the counter.

“Better?” Harry said, grunted into his shoulder, into the beauty mark he was getting acquainted with.

“Than … than anger – oh god, please.” He dropped his head back against Harry’s chest, panted, moved faster. “Than fighting.”

Then, he shifted and Harry stopped thinking for a while.

Later, leaning against the wall of the shower as he watched Malfoy wash his hair, he thought about it.

Better than anger.

Better than fighting.

Was it?

He brought a hand up, brushed his fingers against Malfoy’s chest, traced the lines leading down to his hips. Thought about fighting him, arguing. Thought about something else.

They had another go at it under the stream of water, as it turned cold against their feverish skin.

Stupid, unthinkable, ridiculous, perfect, just right conclusion. Harry supposed it was better than fighting.

#drarry #drarry microfic #drarrymicrofic #mine #drarry fic #draco malfoy #harry potter #mywriting

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

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a little birdie told me to request surfer san at a party idk what that was about but i do kinda want to see skater boy yeosang there too if you're up for that 👀👀👀 heheheheh love u linaaaa <333

/chants/ surfer san surfer san SURFER SAN thank you very much mai for putting this in my inbox I adore you <3 skater yeosang will be up next so I hope you enjoy what I end up spitting out for that one too !

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

Set in the same universe as Kickflip (My Heart) (skater!Yeosang) and Hey, Hey - Let Me Kiss You (surfer!Juyeon) :)

I’m gonna cry this ended up being way longer than I thought it’d be but you know what I’m 100% turning this into a full scenario so fuck it it’ll be as long as it has to be

Title: Truth or Dare

Pairing: San x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Triggers: cursing, alcohol, shirtless woosan for a hot minute, implications of sex towards the end (NOTHING GRAPHIC)

Okay, so in hindsight, maybe coming to Hongjoong's party knowing you were going to be here was a mistake. In his defense, the water probably wasn’t out of his ears when he told Wooyoung he would come, despite the latter having told him specifically you were going to be there. It probably caused some temporary brain damage. That, and San has never really made the best decision when it comes to crushes.

Especially you. You’ve been the worst so far. Around all of the others, he’s been able to keep a measure of his confidence, able to flirt a little and initiate something here or there, if it’s reciprocated. But you...

You’re something else. Always have been, ever since Hongjoong introduced him to you in all your gorgeous glory. Which is probably why Wooyoung looked so surprised that San agreed to come without much trouble - he probably thought San would be chicken out immediately and he’d have to convince him.

San’s here, though, several drinks in and very much buzzed if not drunk, sitting in a circle of people that includes you. Even five or six drunk adults away, San can feel his face heating up when you look in his direction and throw him a wink with that gorgeous smile spread across your face.

His heart thumps a little faster.

“You look like an idiot,” Wooyoung hisses, jabbing him in the side. “What did I tell you about playing hard to get?”

San rolls his eyes. “Since when did your advice ever make enough sense for me to take it?”

Wooyoung huffs. “You look like a lovesick idiot,” he sniffs.

San doesn’t deign to reply.

“Okay, okay.” Hongjoong comes back from wherever he was and settles between Seonghwa and Mingi, a bottle in hand. “Shut up, everyone. We’re playing truth or dare.”

Someone raises an eyebrow. “What is this, high school?”

“The way you all act, I wouldn’t be surprised.” San stifles a laugh at your reply.

“Says you.” Hongjoong snorts.

You grin. “Did I ever exclude myself?”

Everyone breaks into laughter that Hongjoong has to calm before setting the bottle in the middle of the circle. “Rules are the same. Spin the bottle, if it lands on you, pick truth or dare. If you chicken out, take a shot.” He raises an eyebrow. “Got it?”

They all get it, even the ones who look a little like they’re on the way to passing out, and so truth or dare begins.

It’s fun. That might just be because San has been drinking, but when Seonghwa is dared for the second time to write some gross in the air with his butt, he and Wooyoung are falling over each other with tipsy laughter. Hiccuping with giggles, San answers a question about who in this room he’d lick peanut butter off of - “Hongjoong, I like his body.” - and then takes off his shirt for five turns and keeps it off because it’s kind of hot, anyway, and he doesn’t really want to bother putting it back on. Wooyoung isn’t much better - he got dared to take off his pants but Seonghwa forced Yunho to amend it to his shirt, and San pats his friend’s pecs affectionately before the next person goes.

Eventually, the bottle lands on you. You raise an eyebrow. “Truth.”

“Is there someone you like in this room?” Mingi blurts.

There’s a chorus of groans, complaints of ‘Okay, this is too high school for me,’ and ‘For real, Mingi? Seriously?’, but San’s attention is on you and the way your expression has turned slightly uncertain for the first time tonight. You bite your lip, staring at the shot glass in your hand like you’re really contemplating chickening out, but then your eyes flicker up and in his direction.

San’s breath catches in his throat. You didn’t look at him. You definitely didn’t. That was just coincidence. Don’t get your hopes up, San.

“Alright, alright, shut up.” You raise your voice above the noise of people teasing Mingi. “The answer is yes. I do.”

The complaints turn into oooooohs and wolf whistles and ‘Who is it? Who is it?’ but you’ve already got the bottle in hand and are spinning it in the center of the circle. San barely notices, even when Wooyoung’s hand squeeze his knee - who is the person that you like? There’s like fifteen or twenty people here. It could be any one of them. It’s probably Yeosang. He’s pretty and everyone has had a crush on him at least once. Or Seonghwa? Maybe even Wooyoung?

Cheers erupt all around him and San looks up, startled, to see you glaring at the bottle like it personally wronged you in a past life.

Because it’s pointing at you again.

“Truth or dare, Y/N?” someone yells.

Next to you, Yeosang whispers something in your ear. Your eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would.” Yeosang grins.

You glare at the bottle some more. “Dare.”

“Everyone shut up, I’ve got this.” San watches in confused silence as Yeosang sits up. “Y/N...” A grin that looks more suited to Wooyoung spreads across his lips. “I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in this room.”

San’s heart drops with every second that passes. He wants it to be him, badly wants it to be him, but in a room full of people who look like Seonghwa, who look like Dahyun, who look like Juyeon and Chaeyoung and Yeosang and - god, San can’t even list all of the names -

How would it ever be him?

You make a very rude gesture to Yeosang that has everyone cracking up, but you don’t eye the shot glass this time. Instead, you throw your shoulders back and let your eyes rake over the room.

“Wooyoung.”

San’s heart drops. Of course it’s Wooyoung, his best friend in every life, one of the prettiest people San himself has ever laid eyes on -

“Move over.” Suddenly, you’re up in San’s face, pushing Wooyoung away. He blinks. When did you come all the way over here? But he doesn’t even have time to ponder the answer to that question because your smile is so close, now, just half a foot separating your lips, and you’re reaching out a hand to cup his cheek and San is short-circuiting as you say -

“Stop me if you don’t want this, okay?”

San blinks. Don’t want what? His heart is beating so fast, faster even than when he catches the highest wave of the afternoon, you’re so close and this is all he’s ever wanted, why would you even imply that this is something he doesn’t want -

Your lips press against his, and San’s mind goes blank.

You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him because you think he’s the prettiest person in the room - he, San, Choi San, surfer boy who turned into a mess the day Hongjoong introduced him to you - you think he, of all people in the room, is the prettiest -

It occurs to him that he’s still shirtless. He doesn’t exactly know what to do with that information.

You pull away and San gasps for breath, eyes staring wide into yours. You smile at him softly, lips slightly swollen with the kiss, and like he’s underwater, San can kind of hear everyone screaming and whistling and whatever in the background, but when you speak, suddenly, everything is crystal clear.

“Was that okay?” you whisper.

Yes. Yes. Oh, God, yes - San nods once, twice, three times and then blushes when your smile grows wider and the sparkle he likes so much turns brighter in your eye.

Nothing he’s ever seen could be more beautiful than you right now, eyes sparkling and lips smiling under the dim lights of the party, pulling him forward for a second kiss.

. . .

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Truth or dare ends, San takes another couple of shots, and you’re somehow by his side the entire time until the party’s over. Both of you stay behind to help clean up a bit, but at around two, Seonghwa shoos the rest of you home, and Wooyoung meets up with San by the door to walk back to the apartment.

“Move it, Woo.” You appear again, shoving Wooyoung out of the way. “I’m sure San won’t mind if I walk him home instead.”

A horrible grin splits Wooyoung’s features and he nods quickly, giving San a very unsubtle wink made worse by the fact that he drank way more than San did after the game. “Sannie, do you mind?” he asks. Then, not waiting for an answer, he loops an arm through Yeosang’s, who looks very confused. “I’ll see you at home! Or not!”

You and San walk out of the house in silence, mostly because San has too many thoughts at the moment and they’re all jumbling up into one big mess. The euphoria from kissing you earlier has worn off slightly as the alcohol left his system - he’s mostly sober now - which means he’s thinking. Too much.

“San.” You look over at him, a streetlamp lighting your face. “Come on, I won’t bite.” You smile. “If you have something to ask me, you can say it.”

He blinks. Blinks again. Then, as though your words unleashed a flood in his brain, he asks -

“Did you really think I was the prettiest person in the room?”

You stare at him, eyes narrowed and surprisingly lucid given how the party went. “Yes, I did. I still do.”

Oh. Oh, okay. San feels a little like he needs to sit down. So the kiss wasn’t just a one time thing - you’d do it again, probably, if he’s interpreting your words correctly -

“Why?”

This time, you look a little incredulous when the word leaves his mouth. Then you shake your head. “You really don’t think you’re beautiful, do you.” It isn’t a question.

San ducks his head. For all his usual surfer bravado, the confident face and smile he presents when he’s about to hit the waves, he can’t seem to find the courage to look at you in this moment, to let you really see everything brewing behind his eyes.

Fingers settle under his chin and tip it up so that he’s looking at you again. “I don’t bite, San,” you remind him again, still smiling. “I happen to think you’re very pretty. Beautiful. And even though I still want to slap Yeosang over the head, I’m very glad he gave me the opportunity to show that tonight.” Your fingers walk upwards to cup his cheek the same way you did when you kissed him. “In case you were wondering, by the way, you were the one I was talking about when I said I liked someone. And I didn’t only kiss you just because you were shirtless.”

A small smile settles on San’s face. It’s strange, the way you seem to be able to read his mind without him saying anything, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it. “I like you too.”

“I know. It was a little obvious.” You laugh when San whines, going red under your touch. “I wanted to say something before, kind of ever since I saw you in that wetsuit when Hongjoong introduced us, but it felt like I’d scare you away.” You raise an eyebrow. “Am I scaring you away now?”

Are you scaring him? A little, kind of, but not in a bad way. It’s more like you thrill him, make his heart race faster and faster the longer your fingers linger on his skin. You’re not scaring him away. If anything, you’re scaring him towards you - it’s weird, but that’s the only way San can describe it. He shakes his head. “No.”

“Good.” You grin. “Because if I was scaring you, you probably wouldn’t want to kiss me, and right now I really want to kiss you again.”

Your lips meet once, twice, three times under the dull glare of the lamp on the empty street, San’s arms settling around your waist, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck. When you break away after the third kiss, eyes hooded and lips swollen enough to make San’s mouth go dry, a soft glint appears in your expression. “Want to come home with me?” you ask. “My roommate’s out of town.” San follows the movement of your eyelashes as you blink. It’s captivating. “Feel free to say no. I won't take offense.”

If it were anyone else, San doesn’t know if he’d believe them. He might stop it here politely, even tipsy as he is, and ask to just go back to his place instead. But he trusts you. Has trusted you from the day he met you. Because nothing in your words or your face ever seems to mask a lie, and besides, his fingers are itching to find their way up your shirt and somewhere else as he kisses you again and again -

He kisses you, laughing against your lips. “I guess I should let Wooyoung know I’m not coming back tonight.”

“Oh, he’ll get the message even if you don’t say anything.” Your grin is brighter than the stars. “Come on, pretty boy.” You kiss him again. “Let me show you how beautiful I think you are.”

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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

Text

little things

Prompts: Hugs and Crying

Word Count: 3,251

Characters: Lloyd and Kai

Timeline: Immediately after episode 18 (Child's Play)

Trigger Warnings: Trauma, Brief panic attacks

Summary: "Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you'll look back and realize they were the big things."

-Kurt Vonnegut

Lloyd’s tired of being left behind. How is he meant to be the green ninja when he always has to work harder, train better, and wait longer to go on missions with his team? He wants nothing more than to be their equal.

At least, that’s what he thought he wanted.

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The trip back to the Destiny’s Bounty that night was thick with tension. No one spoke, but Lloyd could feel Kai’s gaze boring into him.

He wished the fire ninja would look at something else. He didn’t want to think about what he was looking at.

It had been Lloyd’s choice, and he knew it. Not that his range of options had exactly been wide when a huge, ninja-eating monster had been looming over them, but he had made the choice nonetheless.

He just hadn’t expected it to be like this.

He had thought that not being a little boy anymore meant he got to become stronger, fight better, and, of course, accompany the ninja on their missions.

But he hadn’t thought about the way his legs would become so much longer suddenly, forcing him to concentrate so he wouldn’t trip. Or how his hair would dangle too-long in his face, or how the green gi, on which the sleeves and pant legs had been rolled up a ridiculous amount of times, now fit perfectly. Reminding him too much of who he was and what he was meant to do.

Most of all, though, he hadn’t expected the gaping ache in his chest, like someone had ripped out his heart. He didn’t understand where it came from or what it meant, only that the sparkling display racks in the windows of Doomsday Comix had never felt more distant than they did now.

Their arrival at the monastery couldn’t come soon enough, and Lloyd began to dart down the hall, anxious to get away from the prying eyes of the others. Before he could get far, however, a hand snatched his wrist, and he looked back to see Kai staring at him apprehensively.

“Hey, bud. We’re here for you. You don’t need to go running off on your own.”

Lloyd shook his head. “I’m not. I just wanna go take a shower.” The voice that came from his throat wasn’t his, it was too deep. He didn’t even recognize himself anymore.

Lloyd repressed a shiver of dread, realizing Kai was still looking at him expectantly. “I got… there was a lot of rubble and dust when the Grundle caved in the roof, I just wanna get clean. I’m fine.”

Kai stared at him for a long moment, and for once Lloyd couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. Relenting, he let out his breath, dropping Lloyd’s wrist. “You’re not. But whatever.”

Lloyd merely nodded, realizing that wasn’t the most reassuring answer he could give, but being reluctant to hear his own voice again.

Forcing himself to turn away, he headed down the hallway, passing the ninja’s cabin and heading towards his room a little way down.

Uncle Wu had cleared out the small storage room for him that first night he had stayed on the Bounty, and it had been his ever since. He had appreciated the gesture, to have his own space away from the others, and it had always been a comforting little place for him.

But now, as he gazed around at it, the room itself wasn’t the only thing that was small anymore. The bed in the corner was no longer large enough for him, the mirror mounted on the wall was too low down, the Starfarer comics piled on the nightstand were too juvenile and suddenly much less interesting.

Lloyd sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes. There was no point lingering here. He might as well go take a shower like he had promised Kai.

But when he pulled open the drawer on his dresser, he paused, gazing down at the clothes.

Everything was too small. Of course it was.

Lloyd took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to push down the bubbling panic in his chest.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Letting out his breath again, he grabbed a pair of old, baggy pajama shorts that had always been too big on him anyway, and an undershirt from his gi.

Slipping through the halls, he made it to the bathroom at the end of the ship and quietly pulled the door shut behind him.

As he undressed, all he could focus on was his body, how it was bigger and older and different now. He forcibly shoved the thoughts out of his head before he had a breakdown and stepped into the shower.

Lloyd turned the shower as hot as it would go, barely even noticing as the water scalded his skin. He didn’t know how long he stood there, only that the water kept getting colder and colder until his teeth were chattering. Not even bothering to wash his hair, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a bath towel, pressing his face into it.

He couldn’t do this. He had thought he could handle it, but he couldn’t. Lloyd was barely clutching on to the last threads of his sanity, and he needed to get out of here.

Quickly changing into the shorts and undershirt, he walked over to the window and carefully pushed it open. Stars twinkled at him from the dark sky, and he glanced down. The bathroom was at the top of the ship, just behind the bridge, so it was about a twenty-foot drop to the ground- easily enough to break a leg.

Biting his lip, he grabbed onto the window frame and pulled himself out, gripping onto the side of the ship as his feet found purchase on the windowsill. As he slowly stood, he accidentally caught sight of his face in the reflection in the window and nearly slipped, gasping sharply as he just barely caught himself from falling.

Get yourself together, Lloyd. You’re still yourself, just a little older. Stop being such a crybaby.

Reaching up for the edge of the roof of the bridge, he hauled himself up and crawled back from the edge a bit. Staring out over the trees, the soft glow of the city in the distance, he glanced down at his hands. Fingers too long, palms too rough.

He hadn’t known it was going to be like this. All he had done was age up a few years. It was a small sacrifice to make, seeing as the Grundle would’ve killed them all otherwise. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. Lloyd shouldn’t have been acting so selfishly.

He wrapped his arms around his legs, curling up into a ball.

For the first time that night, Lloyd let himself cry.

---

Kai paced back and forth across the hallway. “Ugh! Why do I let him leave? I know he always locks himself in his room and never comes back to talk to me!”

Zane frowned. “I know this is difficult and confusing for you, Kai- it is for all of us. But Lloyd’s always been much less straightforward than you. Perhaps we should try a less direct approach.”

“You’re saying I should just let him sulk alone for the rest of the night?”

“What I’m saying is that maybe we should just give him a little time to himself, time to process, before we all go barging in to speak to him.”

“Just because Lloyd thinks he wants to be alone doesn’t mean he should be. Isolation isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Kai,” Cole sighed, “that’s not what we’re saying at all. This is just a sensitive situation for Lloyd, and we don’t want to provoke him the wrong way.”

“A sensitive situation?” Kai barked. “Don’t you think I know that? But I’m telling you, he needs someone! Don’t you see? That’s what he does! He tells us he’s fine, but he’s not! Of course he’s not! And- and I want to help him, but I can’t. When he needs me most, I have no idea what to do. Augh, why did I let him come with us? I knew it was too dangerous!”

“Kai,” Zane put a cool hand on his shoulder. “Calm down. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“Nothing I could’ve done?” Kai blinked up at him through watery eyes. “I was supposed to protect him.”

Nya squeezed his hand. “You can’t blame yourself for this, Kai. You can’t.”

“I’m not trying to. It’s just… hard. This isn’t some small little mishap we can go back and fix. This is big.”

“I know, but he’s strong. He’s going to get through it. I think Zane’s right, we should tread lightly. Although,” she paused, her brow furrowing, “I am starting to get pretty worried about him. He’s been in there a long time.”

“Wait,” Jay frowned. “In his room?”

“No, the bathroom.”

Kai’s head snapped towards her. “Wait, what? Did he go in there again?”

Nya shook her head. “I’ve been watching the door. He never left after he went in the first time.”

Cole glanced between them. “How long has he been in there?”

Kai’s gaze darted anxiously towards the bathroom door. “He went in there to take a shower nearly an hour ago.”

Cole’s eyes darkened. “Yeah, that’s too long. Let’s go.”

They hurried over to the bathroom door and the others hovered anxiously behind as Cole rapped his knuckles on the wood, leaning his ear against it. “Lloyd, you okay in there?”

There was no answer.

Cole knocked harder, and Kai could feel the anxiety building. “Lloyd? Bud? We just wanna talk.”

“Okay,” Nya breathed after a moment, “Lloyd’s as stubborn as a mule, but he doesn’t purposely worry us like this. Something’s wrong.”

“Zane,” Cole said, the struggle to keep calm evident in his voice. “Can you pick up anything?”

Zane stilled for a moment. “My sensors don’t detect any sign of movement.”

Kai’s heart skipped a beat. “Get me in.” Shoving past the others, he lunged for the door handle, yanking on it- but it didn’t budge. “He locked it! Why would he lock it?”

“We need a lock pick!” Jay yelped. “Nya, do you have a bobby pin?”

“I can get one, I’ll be right back!”

“Lloyd!” Cole yelled, banging on the door. “Open the door! Don’t do anything dumb!”

“Talk to us, bud!” Kai cried. “Please!”

“I’m back,” Nya huffed, skidding across the floor and holding out the pin. Jay snatched it from her hand and jiggled it in the lock, gritting his teeth. The others waited apprehensively as the seconds ticked by.

Jay pulled back with a sigh. “It’s not working.”

“Lloyd,” Kai moaned, “Open up!”

Cole glanced at them. “Should I break the door?”

Zane hesitated, then nodded. “Do it. We can always replace it later. Lloyd is more important.”

Everyone except for Cole stepped away from the door. The earth ninja held up his fists, and they glowed amber, the light spreading down his forearms.

“Stand back, Lloyd! I’m coming in!” Cole lunged forward, punching in the door and sending splinters of wood flying.

Kai darted to his side and stared into the bathroom, his breath caught in his throat.

Jay stepped around them, pulling back the shower curtain. Empty.

Just like the rest of the room.

“He’s not here?” Cole asked. “I just destroyed the door for nothing?”

“That’s impossible!” Nya yelped. “I saw him go in, and he never left! I’m positive.”

Kai’s eyes lingered on the far wall. “I know where he went.”

The others followed his gaze towards the open window, and Jay’s eyes widened. “He went out the window? That fall could seriously injure him!”

Kai shook his head. “He didn’t go down, he went up.” Glancing back at the others, he added, “Perhaps Zane had a point about the whole subtlety thing. Let me go talk to him first.”

The others exchanged reluctant glances, but stepped back.

Kai pulled himself out the window, balancing carefully as his fingers found the edge of the roof’s shingles. A chilly breeze hit him in the face, but he ignored it, hauling himself the rest of the way up with a soft grunt.

Lloyd was sitting a few feet away, curled in on himself as he stared off into the distance. Kai slowly eased his way over to him and the two sat in silence for a while.

Kai forced himself to look at the boy and felt a tug on his heartstrings. The way he sat there, so quiet and still, was as unlike Lloyd as his new appearance.

Kai shook his head. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that. No doubt Lloyd already had enough of those thoughts going through his head. This was still the same person. He was still Lloyd. He was still his little brother.

Kai leaned closer, allowing his shoulder to lightly bump against Lloyd’s. The green ninja gasped suddenly, as if just realizing he was there, and quickly scrubbed at his eyes. The action made him seem more like the young child that had been left behind. That, and the fact that he was shivering.

“Dude, you’re freezing!” He glanced down to see Lloyd was only wearing a pair of baggy shorts and a light tank top. “Why aren’t you wearing any proper clothes?”

Lloyd’s cheeks flushed, and he dipped his head, muttering under his breath.

“What?”

“I don’t have any proper clothes, okay?” More quietly, he added, “Nothing fits me anymore.”

Oh, Lloyd. “Hey, why didn’t you come to me? Y’know I’ve got way more clothes than I’ll ever wear, me and the guys would be more than willing to share stuff with you. And we’ll take you shopping, too, so you can pick out some stuff of your own. How does that sound?”

Lloyd sniffed, wiping an arm across his face. “Yeah, that sounds… that sounds good.”

“Here.” Kai slipped his sweatshirt off and draped it over Lloyd’s shoulders. “It’s not exactly warm out. Don’t make yourself sick.”

“Thanks.” Lloyd pulled the sweatshirt tighter around his shoulders, and Kai felt a small swell of relief as he noticed it was still a little big on him. So his little brother hadn’t grown up completely yet.

“Bud,” he said gently, “it’s fine if you come up here, but tell us before you do next time, okay? We were worried about you.”

Lloyd looked down, still refusing to meet his gaze. “Sorry. I just… didn’t really want anyone to follow me.”

“I know, but you can’t be alone forever. It’s not going to fix anything.”

“Being together isn’t going to fix this, either.”

Kai winced. “Not physically, no. But we’ll be here for you emotionally. We’ll help you heal.”

“But I can’t-” Lloyd stopped, sighing. “Sorry. I’m being selfish.”

“Selfish? How is any of this selfish?”

“Because! You guys were risking your lives, and I made the decision that saved you, yet I’m regretting I did!” “First of all, you’re not regretting you saved us, you’re regretting the other consequences that came out of the choice. Second, it wasn’t much of a choice at all. The Grundle backed you into a corner- literally- and that was the only logical solution at the time. It’s not fair. It shouldn’t have been you. You shouldn’t have been there. You shouldn’t have been forced to make a decision like that. But you were. So you have every right to be upset, every right to complain. That is not selfish.”

Lloyd finally turned to look at him, a helpless, floundering expression on his face.

Kai took pity on him, putting an arm around him. “Lloyd, I’m here. Whether you wanna talk, or scream, or cry, or just need someone to lean on, I’m here.”

“I… I don’t know what to do, Kai. I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

“You are. You’re still the same Lloyd, still our friend, our little brother, our charge. This changes nothing between us. We’re gonna take care of you, okay?”

Lloyd sniffed, putting his hands over his face, and Kai elbowed him gently. “It’s okay to cry, y’know. No one’s gonna judge you for it.”

“But I… I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“So? Everyone cries! It’s natural, and it doesn’t matter how old you are! I’ve cried, I’ve seen Cole cry, Jay cry, I’ve definitely seen Nya cry, and Zane- well, actually, I haven’t seen Zane cry. But that’s only because he’s a nindroid and physically can’t cry. He still gets upset sometimes, though.”

“I know, but… I just feel like I should be able to handle things better.”

“Are you crazy? I’d go insane if I suddenly just aged several years in the span of seconds. Compared to me, you’re handling it like a champ.”

Lloyd didn’t look at him. “Not really. I feel like a wreck right now.” His last words caught on a sob, and Kai glanced over at him, apprehension budding in his chest.

“Are you okay?”

Lloyd blinked rapidly, trying and failing to stop the tears spilling from his eyes. “Not really.”

“Can I hug you?”

Lloyd hesitated but nodded, and Kai wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Lloyd’s shoulders, pulling him close.

Kai didn’t know how long they sat there, but it was a while before Lloyd broke the silence. “Do you think the Final Battle is coming sooner, now that I’m older?”

“I don’t know. But whenever it is, I’m gonna be there. Even if that means I have to kick Garmadon’s ass for you.” He bit his lip, grinning sheepishly. “Shoot, I didn’t mean to say that in front of you.”

Lloyd snorted. “I already know that word.”

“Wait, who taught you that? Was it Nya? I bet it was Nya.” “It wasn’t any of you. I grew up at Darkley’s, what do you expect? That isn’t the only choice word I know.”

Kai’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare tell Zane, he’ll have a fit.”

A brief smile flickered across Lloyd’s face, the first once Kai had seen all night.

“Hey, if I’m grown up now, I should at least get to use some bad words once in a while.”

“Not happenin’, bro,” Kai grinned. “You’re not that grown up yet.”

“I could be fifty and you’d still say that.”

“What can I say, you’ve got a baby face,” Kai smirked, putting his hands on either side of Lloyd’s head.

“Stop that,” Lloyd grumbled, pushing him away. “‘M not a baby.”

“You are, and no dumb tea can change that.”

Lloyd bit his lip, trying to look away, but Kai forced his head to turn, looking him in the eye.

“Lloyd. It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend like it’s all fine. Let it out.”

Lloyd gasped, half falling into his lap, and Kai gripped him tight. It’s gonna be okay, he told himself. He’s going to be okay. We all are.

Lloyd’s path had been difficult from the beginning. It wasn’t fair that all this had been thrown on him- he was just a kid, even now. But it had been, and Kai had an awful feeling that this wouldn’t be the worst hardship his youngest teammate would have to endure.

But next time he would do better. He was one of the four elemental masters of the elements of creation. It was his job to protect Lloyd, to keep him safe.

It made his heart break to see Lloyd, usually so spunky, so unshakable, like this, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure it didn’t happen again.

But for now, he just hugged the green ninja.

He hoped, with time, it would be enough to heal him.

#ninjago #ninbingo #my fic #rosie writes #ninjago lloyd #ninjago kai #the 👏 show 👏 needs 👏 to 👏 give 👏 the 👏 ninja 👏 more 👏 consequences 👏 for 👏 their 👏 actions #seriously there's no way lloyd just walked the whole child's play thing off #he wasn't even phased in the next episode!#something had to happen in between change my mind #yes yes it's angsty but it had to be done #thanks for reading!#reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!

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cherry-gemz · 3 years

Text

Only You: Ransom Drysdale x You

Summary: You and Ransom are an unlikely pair: different social classes, different personalities. But you find yourself together, but after an eventful evening, will it last?

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: 18+, mention of smut, slight dom!/sub!, tw violence, anger, roleplaying

A/N: My entry for @the-ce-horniest-book-club drabbles. This is meant to be silly roleplay. Just what the reader and Ransom do to spicy things up. I do not condone violence or any aggressive behavior. Everyone has consent. Under 18 DNI, pls.

Prompt: "I can't believe you're ending it over something so ridiculous!"

"I can't believe you're ending it over something so ridiculous!"

"It's not ridiculous. I saw it with my own eyes."

"You're crazy!"

"You better believe it, doll, but I'm not stupid. I know when two people have slept together."

"Ran, you need to get your eyes checked!" You spat and threw your drink at his face. The rest of the restaurant viewed the lover's spat and couldn't look away.

He wiped the drink from his face and shook the excess off from his hand. A devilish smirk appeared and then his face remained still.

Maybe I went too far, you thought. He's going to kill me.

***

Ransom Drysdale. His name was well known in the tri-state area: prolific playboy, a different woman on his arm every week. The only child of Richard Drysdale and Linda Thrombey, and grandson of Harlan Thrombey, a successful writer and mystery novelist extraordinaire. His arrogance and charisma originally turned you off though.

As the New England Club tennis instructor, you found yourself loathing the bratty socialite at first. His extreme good looks and physique were of course delicious to look at, but when he started up lessons with you, you nearly quit. He was a cocky son-of-a-bitch. Never much for small talk on the court.

The Thrombey's in general were self pretentious jerks; leeching off the renowned writer that started his publishing company from the ground up. Not quite old money, but definitely not new. No, the Thromby's were definitely fat cats when talking of wealth and status, but underneath all the designer clothing and flashy cars were hypocritical jerks and wankers. They weren't the self made millionaires as they proclaimed. No, Daddy Thrombey had every part in their success. Without his help, they'd be a fisherman's family.

But Ransom, oh Ransom. You were abhorrently disgusted at how he talked to the staff at the club. Shouting at the waiters when they got his whiskey or scotch order incorrect. Tossing plates at the hostess when his steak wasn't prepared to his likening. Even the pro shop boys were afraid of him that one time he went all Mcintyre on his newly strung racket.

But with you he was different. No, with you he was charming, polite...sweet even. Which made you weary even more of his intentions. He hadn't half bad at the game either, you thoroughly enjoyed playing a match with him. He took a lot of his aggression and stress out on the court and it was fun being competitive.

Eventually he asked you out for a drink, after two times of declining you accepted...mainly because you were curious of how a lazy, spoiled, man-child that was pushing early thirties, could still be so damn attractive.

So that date became two...those two dates became a month. And before you knew it, you were together six months and shocked that he was still entertained. The girls at the front desk were always flirting with him, but ever since you two were dating, he only had eyes for you.

And you for him. Until one night at a local restaurant, where while you waited for him to arrive, you sat at the bar nursing your dry martini. The man that Ransom accused you of sleeping with was attractive. A bit older than what you'd dated in the past, but attractive nonetheless.

"Here alone?" His voice was like butter as he pulled the stool next to you. You crossed your legs and flashed a thigh, your elongated stems were velvety and smooth from a wax appointment earlier that morning. You bit into the green olive and pulled it slowly off the wooden pick, your lips pursed and enticing, stained with a bordeaux wine color.

"Not exactly," you purred as you looked him up and down. His trim physique and armani suit was to be impressed by.

"Well, if you were my date I would never leave your side," he replied as he motioned to the bartender.

You leaned over the bar, pushing your chest up, giving ample viewing.

"Is that right?"

"Indeed. Why, I would kiss the ground you walk on, you're Aphrodite in the flesh."

You smile and giggle at the attention you receive. Unaware that Ransom had arrived and was watching the two of you from afar. The man slinked his hand on your thigh and you startle.

"I have a hotel room not too far from here, what do you say?"

You chest began to burn at the touch of his rough hands. Hands you were not used to. Why, the ones that would caress you down were soft, strong, and lean. Ones that never worked a day in their life.

You grab his hand and twist his wrist and unrelent. Gritting a smile through your teeth, you whisper in the intruder's ear.

"I say, if you lay another finger on me, you'll be peeing through a catheter for a week."

The man whimpered as you released your grip. Ransom barged between you two and decked him square in the jaw.

"You asshole!" He shouted as some patrons screamed. "Don't touch her."

Your intruder fell flat to the ground and everyone stared.

"C'mon, Y/N," Ransom's voice bellowed.

"I'm not done with my drink," you jest.

"I'll buy you a million more elsewhere, let's go."

The man got up slowly and rubbed his jaw, he started to yell obscenities, but security arrived and whisks him away.

"Did you know that guy?" He demanded. His east coast accent always came out thicker when he raised his voice.

You cooly take a sip of your drink, "What? Of course not."

"Yous looked like you did."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, I'm not here for like five seconds and you already have a guy drooling over you. You let him touch you, Y/N!"

"I didn't let him do anything," you pull your compact out of your clutch and fix the crease of your eyelid makeup and brush it with your finger. You snap your compact shut and you can feel Ransom's temper build. His blood boiling, the nerve of that man. Touching you. Thinking that he could satisfy you. It got you hot that Ransom was jealous.

"Well what did you say to him? I saw you whisper in his ear!"

"I just warned him to not touch me again. I can handle myself Ran."

"You've been sleeping with him."

"That's rich, Ransom."

"Tell me I'm wrong."

You look at him dead straight in the eye, "You're wrong." His chest puffed, his cheeks red. He was showing a different side of him.

"Ransom doesn't like to share," you smirk and he slips his hand behind the small of your back.

"I won't ask again, Y/N. Let's go."

You sit up from the stool, "That was you asking?"

"You know what, Y/N…"

"What?"

"We're over."

Your heart drops to your stomach and you want to puke. We're over? Why? Because of some dumb misunderstanding? Is he serious?

"I can't believe you're ending it over something so ridiculous!"

"It's not ridiculous. I saw it with my own eyes."

"You're crazy!"

"You better believe it, doll, but I'm not stupid. I know when two people have slept together."

"Ran, you need to get your eyes checked!" You spat and threw your drink at his face. The rest of the restaurant viewed the lover's spat and couldn't look away.

He wiped the drink from his face and shook the excess off from his hand. You storm out of the restaurant with him quickly behind you. Your heels pound on the cement as you turn the corner around the dark building. The sound of the harbor waves and the rocking of the boats can be heard from a distance.

"Y/N."

You continue to stride along the brick wall, the moon shone above the inked sky.

"Y/N!" He repeated as he grasped you by the hips. You peered into his blue eyes and searched for answers. He stared intently into yours and didn't say anything. Within seconds, he smashed his lips onto yours, smearing the once perfectly colored lips. His hands cupped your face with a strong hold and you grabbed his dress shirt collar and pressed your body into his.

His hands roam up and down your silhouette, then they find themselves on your globes and he clutches your ass.

He grunts through the kiss as you sigh seductively. He peppers his kisses down your cheek to your neck and sucks on your chest, leaving a mark.

"Ran…" you say breathlessly as his left hand trails up your thigh.

"You are mine…" he coos as you nod.

"Yes, baby…"

"He had no right to touch you."

"No, it was bad. You taught him a lesson."

"You've been bad, it's your turn for a lesson," he whispers in your ear as he inserts his tongue and runs it along your lobe. Chills rub up and down your body and you build a pool between your legs.

"So bad…" you tease.

"Y/N…" he says as you grasp his excitement through his trousers.

"Did you mean it?"

"Mean what baby?" He asks as he slips a digit beneath your panties.

"That we're over," you squeak as you close your eyes and he continues to pleasure you.

"Yes…" he ramps up his ministrations and you grab his wrist, unhappy with his answer. He smiles devilishly.

"Ransom!"

He stops, but doesn't leave his hand from your folds. He looks earnestly in your eyes, even though the unlit side of the restaurant, you can tell he's exposed and being real.

"In ways that I'm done hiding, baby. No more. I want you to be my girl, I want to tell everyone."

This is the Ransom that you know, not the man who hated his family and has never had a nice thing said about him. No, he's a complicated one, but he's yours.

"W-what?" You choke. You had been on the down low all these months considering you were his tennis instructor. You'd be fired for breaching the conflict of interest with a client, and you weren rich like him. The strutiny you'd receive from his family, from the town. All eyes would be on you. He cups your cheek with his free hand.

"Move in with me, baby. I'm crazy about you. I don't want anyone else. You're it, doll."

"Ran…"

"What do you say?" He asks as he starts to pleasure you once again and stifle a giggle.

"You are nuts," you reply as you see stars.

"Fine. But next time I choose the roleplaying, tonight got out of hand," you say and shove him playfully.

"Sure thing, baby. Whatever you say."

#chris evans #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #hugh ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey x you #chris evans fanfic #smut #roleplaying #the ce hbc

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averykedavra · 3 years

Text

Ever Slightly Out of Reach

So it’s been a hot second since I wrote anything, thanks to finals, and I wanted a quick warmup to get myself back in the groove. And that quick warmup may have turned out not-so-quick. That’s partly thanks to the great base prompt by @fanartfunart, which I fell in love with. I hope I stayed true to the spirit of the AU, and I hope you all enjoy this rambling plotless ghost fluff.

(Title from Still Here by Digital Daggers. This fic is on Ao3 here!)

Pairings: platonic Creativitwins

Words: 8068

Warnings: death mentions, injury mentions, possession (but a very consensual and low-key kind), arguing, some gross-out humor, and thunderstorms

It was a dark and stormy afternoon, and Remus was preparing to be possessed.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Roman said, floating in his favorite position above the foot of Remus’ bed. One of his legs dangled towards the floor. The other was nowhere to be found. “We should really do something else.”

“Don’t be a quitter,” Remus said. He combed his hair with his fingers. “It’s fun!”

“It’s not.”

“You like it,” Remus complained. “Last time, you squealed about getting to eat an apple.”

“Yeah, but--” Roman winced. “You feel all greasy. It’s like I’m stuck in a--really dirty oven mitt.”

“Hey!”

“You probably haven’t showered for days.” Roman flopped upside down and his mist tinted red. “Did you even wash your hands after lunch?”

Remus looked down at his hands. His nails still had dirt stuck under them in little crescent moons. Yesterday, he’d dug up weeds from the garden and brought them to show Roman. The mess was always part of the fun.

“I didn’t wash my hands,” Remus admitted, “but it’s no biggie--”

“Ew!” Roman interrupted, folding his arms until they blended together. “And I knew it! You never wash your hands! You don’t even do it after you pick your nose!”

Remus grinned and shoved his finger into his nose, just for fun.

“Ew!” Roman yelled louder. “Grow up!”

“I’m already nine,” Remus said triumphantly, poking the finger a bit further to see if he could feel his brains. “Nine and one whole quarter.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I’m way older than you. Shut it, doodoo head.”

“You shut it!” Remus yanked his finger out of his nose and wiped it on his sash. Roman cringed. “You’re gonna go inside this doodoo head and you’re gonna like it.”

Roman huffed. But Remus knew he wasn’t really mad, ‘cause when Roman got real mad, the furniture wasn’t on the ground anymore.

“Come on,” Remus pleaded, flopping onto the carpet. He gave Roman his best give-me-candy-I’m-a-good-boy look. “You know you wanna. We’ll only do it for like six seconds and it’ll be hilarious.”

“It’s not funny,” Roman said.

“Prove it.” Remus popped back upright and kicked his bare feet in the air. “Possess me.”

“No.”

“Come on! You’re worse than Mom!” Remus rolled his eyes until the whites showed. “I’m gonna go back to school tomorrow and I wanna do this now! Before I’ve got homework and stuff. And if you practice, you’ll get really good, and we could go all sorts of places together!”

Roman shivered. “I don’t want to go anywhere in your gross head.”

“I’m awesome for possessing,” Remus said. He tried to imitate the commercials on TV and in-between videos about car explosions. “I’m cool, I’m smart, I have cool hair, I’ve had a whole entire boyfriend--”

“That was in kindergarten,” Roman said. “It doesn’t count.”

“It does too!”

“Does not!”

“And I’m awesome,” Remus said, forcing himself away from an argument. “And I have ten whole fingers and ten whole toes. You have, like, five. Tops.”

Roman counted his currently-visible fingers. “Seven.”

“See?” Remus pointed at him. “And--and! And I have a cool outfit. So I’m the best for possessing.”

Roman gave Remus a look. An I-don’t-want-to-be-mean look. Remus knew that look from teachers who didn’t like his drawings. And classmates who thought he was freaky. And his parents when they tried to tell him again that Roman wasn’t real, Remus was just making up an imaginary friend, and shouldn’t he try to go play with some kids his own age?

Remus knew, though. He knew he wasn’t making Roman up. Two years of being besties wasn’t made-up, and just because nobody else could see Roman didn’t mean Roman wasn’t there. Sometimes things stayed in houses without people noticing. Like stains. Or the slug Remus kept in a shoebox. If his parents didn’t know about the slug, it made sense that they might not know about Roman, either.

Typical grownups. Thought they knew everything.

Roman was nice, because he actually did know stuff. Not stuff like how TVs worked--Remus had tried to explain it, Roman just didn’t get it--but other stuff. Stuff he wouldn’t tell Remus sometimes.

“How’d you die?” Remus asked, instead of trying to remember what he’d just been talking about. He hadn’t asked yet today. Maybe this time it’d work.

“Quicksand,” Roman said.

Could be true. “How?”

“I fell into it.” Roman was definitely telling a story now. He got all dramatic whenever he made something up. “It was a sad, sad day.”

“Why’d you fall into quicksand?” Remus asked, sitting on the carpet and pulling at the threads. “Seems kinda stupid if you ask me.”

“Hey!” Roman said. “I didn’t fall, I was pushed.”

“You said you fell!”

“I said wrong!” Roman huffed, and red flickered around his eyes. “I got pushed because my uncle wanted the kingdom for himself. Quicksand is really cold, actually. All my bones got filled with sand one by one, and it tasted super gross.”

“Did your eye sockets get filled up too?” Remus asked.

Roman nodded. “And my ear sockets. And then I died.”

Remus decided that was a good enough story, and accepted it at face value. “That does sound real gross.”

“It was.” Roman snickered. “Almost as gross as being in your head.”

“Hey!” Remus jumped up. “Look, if you don’t like my head, you can go sit in the living room and talk to all the grownups. But we’ve done this before! You possessed me on accident--”

“I said I was sorry,” Roman mumbled.

“--and then you did it on purpose a couple times, and it was really cool, it was like--” Remus waved his hands and smashed them together. “Bam! You and me all in one brain! And I wanna do it again, so we can figure out how it works, and we can do it for longer!”

Roman raised an eyebrow until it disappeared. “Why?”

“So you can--” Remus gestured at him. “We could do stuff together!”

“We already do stuff together.”

“No, like--” Remus glanced out the window. He could just see the road in the distance. The bus stop was right across the street. He’d have to stand there tomorrow, even if it was still raining. “I know you never leave the house, but if you were me, we could--”

Roman’s eyes hardened. “No.”

Remus faltered. “I just thought--”

Roman immediately looked guilty. He shifted back and forth in midair, and for a few seconds, he almost disappeared altogether. Then he stabilized. Bright white, small, and still just Remus’ height--Roman never explained why they’d been growing together, and maybe he didn’t know. Or maybe it was just another thing Roman wouldn’t tell him.

For a best friend, Roman kept a lot of secrets.

But still. Maybe that was just how friends were. Remus didn’t really have a lot of experience.

“It’s okay,” Roman said to where his feet would probably be. “I just--fine. I’ll possess you, alright? If you really wanna. I’ll wear your weird outfit and everything. But you owe me a favor.”

Remus squealed and twirled around. He didn’t even care that Roman insulted his outfit. He didn’t care about the favor, either--Remus owed Roman like twenty favors by now, it was fine. Remus had time to pay him back later. Roman wasn’t exactly going anywhere.

“This is gonna be great!” Remus blurted out, gesturing for Roman to join him on the carpet. “Okay, you can do it whenever, and you can pop out whenever! But go ahead and try to do stuff while you’re me! So we can see how it works.”

Roman nodded a bit, floating just above the carpet. “So...now?”

“Now,” Remus said. “Unless you’re too chicken--I’m not a chicken!”

Roman’s voice, Remus’ mouth. Roman was gone from the carpet. Remus stood alone in his room.

Remus grinned. “Awesome.”

His grin twisted into an annoyed smirk, followed by an “If you say so.”

It really was awesome. Being possessed was like when you sat in one place for too long and your legs fell asleep. It tingled all over his skin. It made him kinda slow to move and slow to think, and it felt a bit like he was floating, just like Roman could. His head was dizzy and the room was deeper than it used to be, like Remus could see it from every angle, and the rain drummed louder and louder.

“This is so cool,” Remus whispered. It took a second for the words to work, even though Roman quickly let him talk. “You wanna try and move?”

“You can move,” Roman said back, seeming to retreat from Remus’ legs. Remus kicked his foot at the carpet. “I’m not good at walking anymore.”

“Practice makes perfect!” Remus concentrated and tried to shove Roman into the legs again. Go in there, go in there, come on--

“Don’t think so loud.” Roman huffed and rolled Remus’ eyes. “Fine. I’ll try to walk. Don’t grab control until I’m done, though, ‘cause you’ll make us both fall over.”

Remus mimed zipping his lips. The next second, he was pulled closer into himself and away from his skin. He felt his legs move. Roman walked with an awkward wobble--probably because he didn’t have legs most of the time--and a kind of glide. Remus tried very hard not to interrupt Roman. He sucked in his breath and watched patiently.

Roman had managed to walk them halfway across the room. He was picking up speed now, seeming to remember how it worked when gravity existed, and Remus felt his mouth twist in a smile. They walked past the window, Roman skimming fingers across the pane and leaving water on Remus’ hands. Around and around. Roman knew this place, Remus started to feel--he knew where the door was and how many steps it took to get there. He knew how to dash around corners, he knew where to kick the doors, he knew the creakiest floorboards. He’d just forgotten.

“You wanna go downstairs?” Remus asked, trying his hardest to keep his control from spreading to his legs. “We could get a snack.”

“Good idea!” Roman sounded excited. He always sounded excited. Why did he complain about possession stuff anyway? He clearly liked to be in Remus’ head, and he liked to be able to walk around, and he was good at it. Remus didn’t even have to worry, ‘cause Roman knew where to go--

And they both crashed into the wall.

Remus fell onto the floor. His knee banged something on the way down, and it started to hurt, especially when he grabbed it to see what was wrong.

“Ow!” Remus complained. The words hit no barrier. “Ow, fudge-popsicle-muffin-nugget, what the frick?”

“Sorry!” Roman was crumpled next to him, adjusting his sash. The stupid muffin probably left as soon as things started to hurt. “I didn’t mean to!”

“Why’d you lead us into the wall?” Remus inspected his knee. It wasn’t quite scream-for-Mom worthy--no blood--but maybe he’d put a bandaid on it, just in case. “That hurt, stupid.”

“There wasn’t a wall there!” Roman complained.

Remus pointed at the very obvious wall.

“I mean there didn’t use to be one.” Roman drifted upright. He did look sorry about it, which made Remus less annoyed. “That’s where the door used to be. I got mixed up.”

“It’s been at least two years.” Remus pulled himself to his feet. His knee still stung, but not that bad. “Get used to the new door, weirdo.”

“I never have to use it!” Roman floated halfway through the wall as an example. The wallpaper curled slightly, like he’d lit a fire next to it. “Not my fault that you guys put all the things in different places. I never know how to get anywhere anymore!”

Remus blew a raspberry at him. “Maybe look around you, weener. It’s your house, you gotta know it.”

Roman glared at the wall. “Doesn’t feel like my house.”

After a second, Remus clapped his hands. “Can’t have you walk around in my body if you’re gonna ride it off a cliff, so--guess we’re done?”

“We’re done,” Roman said, looking relieved. “I’m spared your terrible fashion sense.”

“Hey!” Remus grabbed his sash protectively. “I made this outfit myself and I love it and you can shut your hole.”

“Okay, okay.” Roman drifted over to the bed and stretched his arms. “What do we do now?”

Remus hummed, looking between Roman and the door. It was still raining. It was the last day of summer vacation--not the last last day, but tomorrow Remus was gonna get a new backpack, and that was fun but it didn’t have Roman. Roman never came shopping with him. So Remus got one day before Roman would be stuck in the house all alone.

He could try to get Roman to come along, but he didn’t wanna waste the afternoon.

Remus looked back at the door. Had it really been in a different place? Remus knew that all the furniture was different now, especially in the living room, but he didn’t know about the doors. He didn’t know much about the house at all. It was too big--good for hide and seek, bad for understanding. Sometimes Remus wished he had a house GPS.

Actually--

“I’ve got an idea,” Remus said. “Do you wanna make a map?”

“A map?” Roman asked. He already looked interested. “Like a treasure map?”

“No, a map of the house! From bottom to top!”

Roman tilted his head. “Why?”

“So we don’t get lost!” Remus hopped in place. “You can know the way around, and so can I! It’ll be fun, come on, come on come on come on--”

“That does sound like an adventure,” Roman said slowly.

“Yeah!” Remus nodded his head as fast as he could. “We can make a whole big map and we can both draw on it! It can be like a treasure map, except it’s just the whole house all the way through!”

Roman smiled. “We’ll need a lot of paper, right?”

“Woo!” Remus cheered. He always felt great when Roman liked his ideas. “Let’s go-go-go!”

“Paper,” Roman said as Remus threw open the door. “And pencils.”

“I bet Mom has some!” Remus waved his hands. “Come on, Ro, don’t waste time!”

“I’ve got all the time,” Roman teased, but he followed Remus into the hallway.

Remus was really good at getting places fast. Why wait and walk somewhere, if you could get to the cool place in half the time? He kicked off the edge of the carpet, slid and sped down the hallway, jumped past the other bedrooms, and barely paused at the staircase. Up onto the banister, a little push, and then down!

The rooms spun past him in a spiral, his feet flying, and he giggled wildly as he slipped towards the first floor. Whenever he tilted too hard in one direction, the wind pushed him back into place. Remus could go as fast as he liked, because Roman was there to keep him on course. He could never fall without Roman catching him.

When the banister tapered off in a swirl, Remus catapulted himself off the edge, rolling onto the carpet and springing back up. Roman grinned at him when he solidified enough to have a mouth. Remus didn’t wait for the rest of his face. He barreled across the tiles, skidded around the corner, and burst into the kitchen.

“Mom! Mom-Mom-Mom!” Remus darted over and tugged at her arm. “Mom!”

“What is it?” she asked. She’d been leaning on the counter, checking her phone. “What do you need, Remus?”

“Do you have paper?” Remus spread his hands wide. “Like, super big paper?”

“There should be some in the attic.” She frowned. “What are you up to?”

“Nothin’.” Remus glanced over to Roman, who was curiously poking at the window boxes. “We’re just gonna draw something, is all.”

“We--” Her mouth worked for a few seconds, like she had a lollipop stuck to her tongue. “Oh. Are you sure you don’t want to do something else for your last day of vacation? Go for a walk? It can’t be good for that brain of yours to be cooped up inside.”

Remus knocked on his skull. “It seems fine to me. And it’s raining out!”

“I think it’ll stop for a bit later,” Mom said unconvincingly. “I--I’m just not sure if you want to run around in the house all day. You spend too much time inside it already.”

“I do not.” Remus pouted. “I like it here!”

“I’m glad you do.” She drummed her fingers on the counter before sighing. “Maybe you’ll make some friends at school.”

“Don’t need any friends,” Remus said. “I’ve got a friend.”

“Right. Right.” Mom rubbed her eyes. “Like I said, the paper is in the attic. You might want to ask your father for help with it. And don’t get into any trouble, okay?”

“I won’t!”

“I know how much that’s worth.” She slipped her phone into her pocket and grabbed a spatula. “Holler if you need me.”

“I will!” Remus gestured to Roman, who reluctantly floated away from the window. “Come on, Ro, we haven’t got all day!”

Accompanied by a long sigh that melted into the wind, Remus and Roman left the kitchen.

“You’ll have to go back in, if you want to make a map,” Roman pointed out.

“I know what the kitchen looks like.” Remus scoffed. “Stove, oven, fridge, things I’m not allowed to touch. Easy-peasy.”

He hopped up the stairs two at a time. Roman drifted along the banister and peeked at the rooms below. Whenever he flipped upside down, his hair pooled around his face like a cloud of smoke. Remus idly batted at him. Roman felt like nothing. Nothing and warm.

“She said the stuff’s in the attic,” Remus said, hopping off the stairs and barreling down the hallway to the other stairs. “And that’s got the fun trapdoor, right?”

“We broke the trapdoor,” Roman said. “It’s just a hole now.”

“Not my fault it can’t handle paintballs.” Remus scrambled up the other stairs. “But Mom said that’s got the paper, so you and I can go get it.”

“She also said you have to ask your dad.”

“She’s stupid.”

“I can just get the paper.” Roman flickered and appeared farther up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t--” Remus didn’t even manage to finish the sentence before Roman was gone. A bit of mist curled from the landing. It drifted to the window, slipped through the glass, and disappeared into the rain. So Roman’s mist could go outside, but Roman couldn’t? What kind of rules were there? Why did Roman never get to go where Remus could?

Remus shivered. It got cold easily in the house. Something about drafts. He felt very small on the staircase, alone, scuffing the red carpet with his toes.

Roman would be back soon. He always got back soon. Roman used to go all sorts of places without Remus, until Remus got tired of trying to find him every time he woke up. Ghosts were better than people, but ghosts were harder to find when they got lost. Remus used to worry that Roman would get really lost. So lost that Remus wouldn’t be able to see him anymore, and he’d forget that Roman was real. And he wouldn’t have any friends, and he’d just be alone in the cold stupid house.

Remus didn’t worry that anymore. At least, he thought he didn’t. Now, with the gray light shining through the windows, he felt ants in his intestines.

“Wait up!” Remus called, and ran after Roman.

He caught up right beneath the attic. Roman was right--it was still a hole. A square hole above the bookcase, with foldable stairs squeezed next to the books.

“Ro!” Remus yelled.

A thump or two, and a misty face reappeared. In the dark, Roman glowed, like glow-in-the-dark shoes. “What?”

“Can I come up?” Remus asked.

“I’m almost done!” Roman disappeared. Another few thumps shook the ceiling. “Catch!”

A pad of paper fell through the hole. Remus tried to catch it, failed, and grabbed it before Roman could notice.

“That’s all I could find.” Pencils and pens rained from the hole, followed by a smaller notebook. “Does it work?”

Remus frowned at the paper. It was small, only about the size of a poster. “Can we fit the whole house on here?”

“We could go room by room.” Roman drifted down to Remus, aimed wrong, and stuck his arm through Remus’ shoulder. Remus laughed and swatted the air. Roman adjusted himself. “Make one map for each room.”

“I guess.” That wouldn’t help with finding rooms, but this was about Roman knowing where the doors were. Remus didn’t want Roman to get lost while Remus was gone. “That works.”

“Fantastic!” Roman looked around. “Which room first?”

“Top to bottom?” Remus pointed at the ceiling. “Let’s start with the attic.”

It took several tries for Roman to lift Remus through the hole. Remus almost hit his head on the side, making Roman drop him out of panic, making Remus almost hit his head on the floor. Roman caught him, of course, but it took another minute for Remus to get Roman to try again. Finally, Remus squeezed through the hole. Floating felt like going up an elevator. If the elevator was wobbly, invisible, and complained a lot.

The attic was a nest of boxes. Every piece of cardboard was labeled, some in writing that Remus didn’t recognize. Old photos. Old jewelry. Old spiderwebs. The stuff in front, Remus knew. Holiday stuff, and extra silverware, and Mom’s favorite Passover sweater. Beyond that, though, was a sea of boxes that hadn’t been touched in years. Remus had explored a few of them, and he’d seen all kinds of old stuff, the kind that was probably worth a lot online. Maybe Mom and Dad should sell it. Roman might get upset, though--Roman didn’t like it when stuff got lost.

Remus cleared a space in the center of the attic and unfolded a piece of paper. He handed Roman a pencil. Roman dropped it by accident. Remus gave Roman another pencil.

“Okay, so we’re gonna draw a square like this.” Remus drew a square as neatly as he could. “And then we add the windows and the doors, and then all the stuff inside the room, and we can label it so we know what’s what!”

Roman nodded. “Can I add sparkles?”

“There aren’t any sparkles in the room.”

“There should be.”

“Add sparkles or whatever.” Remus grinned. “I’m gonna add poop. And lots of spooky ghosts with big pointy teeth.”

“Except I’m saving you from them,” Roman corrected, “since I’m the knight! They’re no match for me.”

“No, they’re my friends too!” Remus waved his hands. “They’re my army! I’ve got a ghost army and they give me cookies and think I’m cool.”

Roman pouted. “I already do that!”

“You’re a dork.”

“Am not!”

Remus snickered and started drawing some of the boxes. Roman doodled around the edges, crossed out some of Remus’ lines, and wrote labels in shaky handwriting. Remus made the room too small on the page, so there was lots of room for extra drawings around the edges. Remus drew three frogs, five rats, and seven ghosts with pointy teeth and blood in their eyeballs. And an octopus, but it didn’t look right.

When they’d managed to fill the whole paper, Remus checked the map against the room. All the boxes were there, plus the one small window at the other end, between slopes of wood. It was still raining. Remus couldn’t move without the floor creaking, and he could barely stand up all the way.

“Where next?” Remus asked, rolling up the map.

“Downstairs,” Roman said, “one room at a time.”

The first bedroom. Most of the bedrooms on the top floors were empty, and the dust made Roman look smudged. This bedroom had a small raggedy doll in one corner and a faded pink bed. When Remus kicked the carpet, it came apart at the edge. The windows overlooked the backyard, which sloped past the gardens and shed before hitting the woods with a crunch. They labeled the map ‘Bedroom’ and Roman drew flowers in the margins. One of the pencils rolled under the pink bed and Remus almost bumped his head trying to get it back.

The first bathroom. It didn’t have a sink anymore, and the toilet was still clogged from the time Remus tried to flush lasagna down it. The whole place smelled like lasagna. Maybe Remus should tell Dad about it, but that’d mean getting in trouble, so he plugged his nose and drew a map. Since there wasn’t much floor, and the tiles looked like barf, Remus put the map against the mirror. The mirror had a long crack in it that made his lines go skewed. He labeled it ‘Lasagna Bathroom.’ Roman drew stink waves coming from the toilet.

Another bedroom. The bed used to have a canopy, but the fabric was gone, leaving a little roof of wood. Remus tried to climb it. He almost got to the top until Roman yanked him back down. Party pooper. Old coats were in the closets, and the drawers were lined with lace. When Remus tried to open the window, the rust yelled. Remus labeled it ‘Canopy Bedroom’ and Roman told him that he spelled canopy wrong. Remus chucked a pen through Roman’s forehead.

Office. Probably where someone did their homework. Remus sat in the chair and kicked at the legs, and Roman ruffled the papers until they flew all over the desk. There wasn’t any ink, or any quill pens, which would have been cool. Remus liked this room because of the clock in the corner. It was broken. Roman said the hands showed the time as two-thirty. Remus wondered what happened at two-thirty. The desk made the map easy to draw on. ‘Clock Room.’ Doodles of dragons in the margins, because Roman got distracted.

They skidded down the stairs and hopped into Remus’ own bedroom. Remus had fought tooth and nail for a bedroom on the third floor, ‘cause he didn’t want Mom and Dad hearing when he brought cool stuff into the room. That map was easy to make. Then was the nursery next door, where babies were probably made, and then the other bathroom. This one didn’t smell like lasagna, which made it better, but the bathtub was yellow, which made it worse. The final room was stripped of furniture. It made for a quick map.

The maps were piling up now. Remus kept them in one tube of paper under his arm. Roman had managed to lose half their pencils. When they scrambled into Mom and Dad’s room, Remus began to poke at the closet before realizing Dad was already there. He dragged Roman back out and proceeded to make up the rest of the map. Roman said it would ruin the accuracy. Remus said that they didn’t need to go in that room anyway, and that if they wanted to finish the maps before dinner, they’d have to hurry.

“How much different is it?” Remus asked in the second bedroom, trying on an old bathrobe. It made him feel like a duke. Maybe he would cut it up and put it in his outfit later. “What’s new about the house?”

“The furniture you brought,” Roman said, drifting above the wardrobe with a pencil in hand. “And bits of the third floor have been changed, because of water damage, I think? They added electricity, and all the bathrooms used to be closets.”

“What? Really?” Remus didn’t know that. “Where were the bathrooms, then?”

“Outside!” Roman laughed at Remus’ face. “In the outhouses, obviously.”

“You pooped in the forest?”

“Not on the forest floor.”

“You pooped in forest toilets?”

“No!” Roman laughed harder. “We didn’t have toilets! We’d poop in a hole!”

“Ew!” Remus said gleefully. “Ugh, I wish I was alive back then, I wanna poop in a hole.”

“You really don’t,” Roman said.

Remus still drew poop-holes on the edge of the map. Roman stuck out his tongue and called him “Revolting.”

“Is it weird?” Remus asked as they mapped out the living room. Big green couch, several lamps, Dad’s recliner, pile of junk on the table. “To have no poop-holes? Or no doors?”

“I don’t always notice,” Roman said. “I can just walk through walls where the doors used to be, and I don’t need to poop. But--yeah, it’s strange.” He tugged at the hem of his shirt. Clouds came away in his fingers. “I suppose everything’s changed a lot since I--got eaten by an alligator.”

“Alligator?” Remus asked.

“It’s a painful tale.” Roman dramatically screwed up his face. “I can hardly bear to recall.”

“Oki-dokey artichoke-y,” Remus said. “And yeah, things have probably changed all over the place. I’m gonna go to fourth grade, but it’ll be nothing like your fourth grade. We’ll learn different things.”

“I suppose so.” Roman doodled small circles in the margins of the map, circles and circles, like a million tornadoes stuck together. “You’ll have to tell me what it’s like.”

“Or you could come and see?”

The circles grew closer together. Tornadoes circling the map. Remus wondered what a tornado would feel like. Didn’t they just pick stuff up and drop it again? Would it be like getting picked up by Roman--tingling and stomach-dropping, everything in limbo?

“It’s really not so bad,” Remus said, falling into his old job of convincing Roman to do stuff. Usually, it was easy. Roman liked having things to do, even illegal ones. “Sometimes the teachers give us candy for the right answer. If you poke an eraser with a pencil, it gets little gray holes.”

Roman looked about to make little gray holes in the paper. Remus tugged the map away from him before he could ruin it.

“I’m just saying,” Remus said. “You could possess me or whatever, or you could just float around and hang out. It’d be fun!”

“I can’t leave the house,” Roman said firmly.

“Who says you can’t?”

“Me.”

“Then say you can!”

“I’m not going to.” Roman tossed the pencil at the map. “You should erase the couch. It’s on the wrong side.”

Remus scribbled out the couch and put it in the right place, but now all the other bits of furniture were wrong. “Friends go to school with each other.”

“Human friends do.” Roman was flashing red all over now, and Remus didn’t know whether he was upset or angry or just in the mood for red. “Thought you liked ghost ones better.”

Remus was pretty sure that meant ‘I thought you liked me better.’

And he did. He liked Roman way better. But--there were perks about human friends. Parents didn’t make fun of them behind their backs. They were easier to shove when they were being jerks. And they didn’t go missing so easily. It was harder to lose a person, because they were all flesh and blood and heartbeat. Ghosts were easier to lose. They were just sky with eyes and a nose. Just air.

Playing hide-and-seek was fun, but only when it was a game they agreed on. Only when everyone knew the rules. Only when Remus could give up and Roman would float out of a closet with a pie-eating grin. Hide-and-seek wasn’t fun if someone just kept hiding. It wasn’t fun if someone had to get left behind.

Ghosts were better than people. So far, ghosts had been nicer, and cooler, and better at drawing. So far, ghosts had stuck around.

But ghosts couldn’t go to school. Ghosts couldn’t go shopping. Ghosts couldn’t eat potato chips or a latke or a really good cookie. Ghosts disappeared and Remus had to go find them. Ghosts needed maps or they’d get lost in their own house.

Remus liked Roman. That made things hard sometimes.

Circles and circles, a tornado all around the living room. They were almost done with the maps, unless they wanted to map out the yard as well, and it was raining too hard for that. Plus, Roman never left the house.

Remus stared at the maps. Maybe Roman was worried he’d get lost.

Maybe a map would help with that.

“We’ve just got a few rooms left,” Remus said. “And then we’ve got the shed, and then we’re done!”

“Great!” Roman looked happy at the change of topic. “Do we really need the shed, though? It’s not inside the house.”

“It’s still a building.” Remus gathered up the map and led the way to the dining room. “We can go outside and sketch the shed, just to get all the maps we need.”

Roman looked outside. “The weather’s bad. You’ll need your rain boots.”

“What’s the fun if you can’t splash in the puddles?” Remus set a new page of the map on the dining room table. Roman began to draw food around the edges. “And once we’ve gone to the shed and back, we could make this into a huge book, if we wanted. Color the pages and everything.”

Roman hummed, occupied with shading the edge of a blueberry. Remus checked the window. The rain actually seemed to be stopping. Definitely a good sign!

The dining room drawing was quick. After the entrance hall, the closet, the back room, and the kitchen--which they drew from memory, to avoid Mom--the maps were almost complete. A dozen pages of color and line, a true masterpiece, with several bad words written very small under the doodles. Remus tried to high-five Roman. For obvious reasons, the high-five did not work.

“Just the shed now!” Remus tucked the roll of maps under his arm and bounced to the back door. “Okay--raincoat, boots, umbrella? No room--”

“It isn’t raining so much,” Roman said. “Still, be careful, there could be lightning.”

“Nah, we’ll be okay, just in and out!” Remus tugged on his rain boots. They had little ducks on them. “And ghosts can’t get hit by lightning anyway.”

“You can.”

“I’m not a coward.” Remus pulled his raincoat over his shoulders. It felt like wax. When the back door opened, rain dripped from the doorway and dampened the mat. “Oh, those are some wicked puddles! Maybe I can go puddle-stomping later.”

“Don’t get the maps wet.” Roman motioned to the doorway. “Go ahead.”

Remus stepped through the doorway. A small path led past the boring plant garden, through the less-boring flower garden, and down the slopes of grass. The shed was nestled by the edge of the woods. It had a tin roof, and Remus could already hear the ping-ping of raindrops on it.

“Come on,” Remus said, wiping droplets from his hair. The rain was manageable enough. The grass squelched under his boots. “Ro?”

Roman looked confused. “I’m not coming.”

“You’re not?” Remus’ face fell. “Why not?”

“It’s outside of the house?” Roman sounded like he didn’t get it. “I don’t go outside the house.”

“It’s barely outside,” Remus said. “It’s, like, still in the yard.”

Roman moved away from the door.

“Come on.” Remus didn’t want to beg like a baby, but Roman needed to get out here, he needed to go outside. “I can’t do the map without you. You need to draw on it!”

“I can doodle when you get back!”

“No!” Remus yelled. “No, that’s not the right order!”

“Well, I’m not going!” Roman yelled back at him. “Leave me alone, Remus!”

Remus screwed up his face. “You’re being stupid! It’s just a stupid yard. I’ll be with you the whole fricking time. What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t leave the house!”

“Why can’t you?” Remus almost screamed. “If you want me to get it, actually tell me what you know! Stop being so vague and tell me stuff!”

Roman looked about to cry. Could ghosts cry? Did Remus want to find out? “I said, leave me alone!”

“Fine!” Remus turned on his heel. “Fine, I’ll do the rest of the stupid map on my own. I’ll go to school on my own and leave you here to sulk, just like you want. Have fun. See if I care.”

Roman might have said something. Remus decided not to hear it.

The yard was muddy. In a better mood, Remus would have smeared some mud over his face. Instead he just kicked at it. Kick, kick, kick, all the way past the stupid plants and the still-stupid flowers. All the way down the stupid grass to the stupid shed. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It was cold outside. Remus felt cold in his rain coat, and wet, even though his skin was dry. The maps crinkled under his arm. The sky boiled with dark clouds. When he glanced back, Roman was still standing in the door, a flash of white and red against the coats and the darkness. Remus stuck his tongue out. Stupid ghost. He wished he couldn’t see Roman, like everyone else.

Remus didn’t waste time making the shed map look nice. No point, if Roman was never gonna use it. ‘Shed.’ No doodles. A wonky square with some sticks for the garden tools and some circles for the sacks of hay. It all looked stupid. It wasn’t a good map. Didn’t matter, though, ‘cause Roman never went anywhere.

The shed was cold and empty. It was dark, too, lit only by a lightbulb. The rain ping-ping-pinged at the roof. The wood shivered. Remus’ face felt very red and very hot. Count to ten, Mom always said when he got mad. One. Two. Three. Four. And he knew the rest.

Maybe he’d learn more numbers in fourth grade. Third grade had been up to a hundred or two hundred. Maybe they’d make it even further. There were infinite numbers, right? They’d never run out of numbers. They’d just run out of time.

Fourth grade was gonna be no fun if Roman wasn’t there.

Remus rolled up the map and stuck it under his arm. When he opened the shed door, the wind rustled the edges of the papers. His fingers felt cold and wet, like bits of popsicle. The house teetered on the hill. He could see all the windows, all the rooms they’d went to--the bedrooms, the bathroom with lasagna in the toilet, the stairs, the living room. Remus’ own bedroom. It all kind of made sense when he looked at it from the outside. It was like a tier cake. Room on top of room.

It looked like a haunted house, with the trees around it black and shadowy, waving in the wind. With birds flying across the wild grey sky. It was a haunted house. Roman was still there, a smudge of white, and Remus wondered why he got to see him. Why they stayed the same height and looked the same age. Why Roman had gotten stuck here in the first place, with no one to keep him company.

If Remus died, he’d want to see the world. He would never want to stay just where he’d started. What was the point of being a ghost if you didn’t do anything new?

Maybe he should ask Roman that. Maybe this time it’d work.

Remus climbed up the hill towards the house.

The wind picked up, blowing at his back. He adjusted the map and kept moving. It took all his strength to keep his boots from sticking in the mud, and all his self-control not to face-plant into the mud. The trees blew behind him, and when he looked back, he saw he’d left the shed light on. It glowed yellow next to the woods. It made him feel even colder.

Rain was starting to fall again. It was going to storm again. Of course it was. Remus was going to have a rainy, wet, no-good last day of summer. Stuck inside the house. It couldn’t be good for him.

It couldn’t be good for either of them.

But here they were.

“Hi,” was all that Roman said when Remus reached the doorway.

“Got the map.” Remus’ nose was starting to run. “It’s cold out there.”

“Close the door.” Roman poked curiously at the papers, avoiding Remus’ eyes. “Can I see it?”

Remus handed Roman the stack of maps. Roman leafed through them, pausing at the shed one, then skimmed the rest. The rain began to pick up outside. Water dripped from Remus’ boots onto the floor.

“Where’s the bedroom?” Roman asked.

“What?”

“I can’t find the map of our bedroom.” Roman looked confused. “Did you leave it in the house somewhere?”

Remus felt cold again. “I--I don’t think so.”

Roman looked past him. Remus turned around to see rain beginning to fall on the grass, and a long trampled walk back to the shed.

“I dropped it,” Remus realized. “Oh no, I dropped it--it’s gonna get all wet!”

“It’s okay,” Roman said, sounding like he didn’t know whether it actually was. “You know the way around your bedroom.”

“You bumped into the wall,” Remus said. He scanned the grass for any sign of the map. Nothing was there. It could have fallen into mud, or gotten crumpled, or blown away in the wind. “We need that! And I just lost it! I gotta get it back, Ro--”

“We’ll make another one.” Roman looked sympathetic. “It’s okay--”

“We don’t have time to make another one!” Humiliatingly, Remus felt his eyes burn. “‘Cause we’re eating dinner soon, and then I gotta go tomorrow for shopping, and then I’ve got school! And you gotta have the map by then, so you don’t get lost when I’m gone!”

Roman flickered red. “What?”

“I gotta get it.” Remus shoved the rest of the maps towards Roman. They fell through him and hit the floor. “If you’d been there, I wouldn’t have dropped them.”

Roman looked hurt. “You might have anyway.”

“Yeah, I might have anyway, shut your hole. No one cares.” Remus made a frustrated noise. “Fine, it’s all my fault and I got the map ruined. Shut up. I gotta go get it.”

Before Roman could argue, Remus stepped into the rain. It was coming down faster now. The map would probably be halfway ruined already. If he could find it, though, he’d be able to dry it. And Roman would know where the door was.

But he’d lost the map. It was lost somewhere in the backyard, stuck somewhere between grey skies and grey grass and grey rain. Remus couldn’t see it. He squinted and he cupped his eyes and he blinked the water from his eyelashes, but he couldn’t see it. There wasn’t a single flash of white.

A rumble of thunder in the distance.

“Get back inside,” Roman called. “This is dangerous.”

“I can’t find it!” Remus yelled back. He sounded panicked. Was he panicking? “I can’t find it, Ro, I need to find it--I don’t wanna leave it here--”

Another rumble of thunder. Remus was cold. He didn’t even want to walk deeper into the yard. The woods were dark and the shed was flickering and he felt frozen in his boots. His skin tingled. His breath froze.

And then the world deepened.

Two sides to everything. Like he’d grown extra eyes. It always felt like this--like a video with more pixels, or cooler colors, or binoculars attached. He could never pinpoint what he could see. He just knew it was--more than usual.

The world was a riot of color and darkness, swirling like a tornado, and Remus laughed.

“Thanks,” he said as he took a step forward.

Or tried to. “Don’t,” he hissed back at himself in Roman’s voice. “I am not going to try walking again. We’re just looking right now. Look around.”

Remus looked.

Hide-and-seek. If he was a map, where would he hide?

Color. Darkness and scribbles and circles going around, but that was all in the margins, that didn’t matter. Thunder rumbled. He didn’t jump. The rain seemed to go right through him.

White.

A piece of white, like a flag, stuck in the boring plant garden.

Remus whooped. Or maybe it was Roman who did. Who knew?

“Can I walk now?” he asked, and Roman groaned in response. Remus’ boots loosened. He ran through the rain and grabbed the map with one hand, swiping at it with a wet hand, until he realized that did no good. The colors were running. He tucked it into his raincoat, and the raincoat smeared across his hand as well, the paper leaking white and red.

Too much. Way too much. Maybe there’d been a reason that Roman didn’t want to do this. Everything was double, switching and colliding, holes opening and spinning dizzily in the air.

“It’s okay,” Roman said with Remus’ mouth. “Close your eyes, I’ll find our way back.”

Remus squeezed his eyes shut.

And Roman guided them back to the door.

When the rain stopped, so did the dizziness. Remus almost fell against the wall. Roman collapsed against the opposite one, running his hands through his hair and pulling at his sleeves. The door slammed shut. Maybe that was Roman, or maybe it was the wind that began to howl at the house. A bad storm. They’d been lucky to avoid it.

“Is the map okay?” Remus opened his eyes and peeled the paper away from his raincoat. “Oh frick, it’s all smeared.”

“It looks fine to me.” Roman drifted over and traced the edges. “All my doodles are dry, and I can see where everything is.”

Remus blinked the water out of his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, so can I.”

“Good job,” Roman said, and Remus looked over at him. “It’s a nice part of a nice map.”

“Thanks,” Remus said awkwardly. People didn’t give him compliments very much. Maybe that was a ghost thing. “You did good with the art.”

Roman beamed at him. Red and white, a warm blanket around his shoulders.

“And--uh--” Remus motioned to the door. “You went--”

“I don’t like thunderstorms,” Roman said simply. “And I wanted to help you find it.”

Remus found himself smiling. “So you can go outside.”

“I can.”

“Why don’t you?”

Roman ruffled the edge of the map. It was already drying. “Because there aren’t good maps like this one, so I’m not sure if I could find my way back.”

“You made it back without a map today.” Remus kicked off his rain boots and shrugged off his coat. “Plus, if you went to school, I’d be there. I’d make sure you got back alright.”

Roman chewed his lip.

“It’d be okay,” Remus said. “You’d see me the whole time. And--you wouldn’t have to be alone in this house all year. You spend too much time in it already.”

Roman laughed a bit. “I don’t mind. You’re there.”

“I’m not gonna be.” Remus rubbed his arms, and the chill began to fade. “It’s the house or me, bro. And I’m pretty sure you like me better.”

Roman’s smile was smaller now, but still just as bright.

“I could make you a map,” Remus finally offered. “Of the way to school and back. Just in case?”

“I’d like that.” Roman paused. “I...it might be a while before I decide to go that far from the house. You might have to torment your teachers on your own.”

“Oh, I’m great at that.” Remus led Roman into the living room. He could already smell dinner. Mom waved, and he waved back, and Roman waved, too. Mom couldn’t see him, but Roman was polite like that. Maybe she’d even wave back at Roman one day, if they were lucky. “And--yeah, take your time. We’ve got a lot of it.”

“True.” Roman drifted along, a few feet above ground. He glowed like lightning, and red flickered in time with the thunder, impossible not to see. “I’ll find what works, okay?”

“Okay!” Remus spread the maps on the table. The lines glistened--a tornado of doodles and a house of scribbles. Maybe not much of a map. But it was fun to make, and helpful to find, and a good haunted map for a haunted house. “Are you gonna stick around to staple these together?”

“Of course,” Roman said, pencil already in hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” Remus smiled. “Neither am I.”

General taglist (ask to be included or removed!):

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#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #ghost au #creativitwins #sanders sides fic #averywrites #yeahh this got really long again and i don't know how #i swear it was just going to be today's warmup fic #anyway here kid!side content i have homework and i must go

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narakurosaki · 3 years

Text

title: maintenance

collection: equivalent exchange

summary: a prompt requested by SammiRW on ao3, Winry performs maintenance on Edward shortly after they’ve begun their relationship. coupled with teenage hormones, Winry has bit off more than she can chew.

rating: t

words: 1555

accepting prompts!

read on ao3!

“Alright,” Winry begins, gathering her tools from their storage, “pants off.”

Behind her, Edward squeaks. He’s acting far too weird, has been since she’d sprung the idea of a maintenance appointment on him this morning. She’s thankful that she no longer has to rebuild his limb from scratch—the worst that had happened was the busting of the shin’s outer plating after he had fallen from the roof. He’d been tasked with repairing the roof before the storm hit; without alchemy, Edward had been damn near useless, no knowledge of manual labor stored in his mind. Winry had handed him a hammer, an assortment of nails, and replacement shingles. He’d stood after finishing to examine his work, only to take one too many steps back. The crash could be heard from the kitchen, and Winry had run out to assess the damage. While Edward had walked away with nothing but scrapes and bruises, his leg had been less fortunate. It had frustrated her, sure, but she was thankful that he hadn’t destroyed it in a fight. If the only thing she had to worry about was him falling off roofs and hitting his thumb with a hammer, she’d count herself lucky.

She turns to face him, tools in hand, and finds him standing awkwardly with his arms glued to his sides. She raises her brow in question. “Hello? I need you to take your pants off.”

She watches his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. He offers a stiff nod, slowly moving his hands to the button on his pants. Her eyes follow, watching as he unbuttons and unzips. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband and pulls them down. He grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head. Winry feels her cheeks begin to warm.

Okay, so maybe watching him remove his clothing wasn’t her greatest idea. She casts her gaze aside as he steps out of his pants, leaving them pooled against the floorboards, and hangs hist shirt on the back of a chair. He takes a seat on the observation table and lies down. Winry drags her chair to the side of the table and sets her tools down beside his leg.

He isn’t looking at her, choosing instead to stare at the ceiling. She notices his clenched jaw, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. Her eyes roam his body—his toned chest rises and falls with each breath he takes; the scar where his automail had once been installed is jagged, dark, and risen in some areas; his abdominal scar is similar, and every time she sees it, she remembers the story behind it and how close she came to losing him; she counts his abs—six—and follows the defined line where his obliques meet his transversus abdominis muscles, noting how it disappears into his boxers. She bites her cheek and quickly averts her gaze to his automail.

Her hands glide across the metal, beginning at the foot; she’s checking for dents that may indicate interior damage. She comes up empty, stopping at his port. The edge of the leg of his boxers brushed against the back of her hand. She pulls away.

“Alright, no dents. That’s a good sign.” She crosses that off of her mental checklist. “Have you noticed any stiffness lately?”

Edward shifts.

She eyes his face.

His eyes remain glued to the ceiling, brow furrowed as though he is in deep concentration. He chews at his lower lip—a nervous habit he’d had since childhood. He’s worried about something, but she can’t place what, exactly, that something is. Did he know of something wrong with his automail internally, scared of her reaction once she found it? No, he was getting better at telling her when something didn’t feel right. So, if not that, then what was it?

“Nope! No stiffness here!” His voice cracks, his face beet red. “Nope, nope, nope. Everything’s fine!”

She looks at him with disbelief, rolling her eyes. “You’re being really weird today.” She grabs her screwdriver and begins loosening the screw securing the plating, beginning at the thigh. “What’s gotten into you?”

“No, wait! Can’t you do my foot first? The toes—they actually have been squeaking!”

The twisting of her screwdriver stops. She stares at him, growing annoyed, but ultimately does as asked.

“They shouldn’t be squeaking,” she muses, bending each toe individually, “We just oiled the joints last week. Did you hit your foot against something?”

Her question goes unanswered. She bends the toes a second time, just to be sure. “Hello, Earth to Edward. I asked you a question.”

His quick mumbling catches her attention.

“…beryllium, boron, carbon, nitrogen—”

Oh.

Great.

“—oxygen, fluorine, neon, sodium—”

She abandons her testing of his toes, glaring at him from her seat. “You have got to be kidding me. What is with you and the stupid—” her eyes trail down his exposed torso, again, following the v-line that disappears into his boxers. There’s something in there, though. Or, more accurately, there’s something threatening to pop out of the fabric. Her face feels extremely hot. “—periodic table…”

Leave it to Edward to get an erection during a routine maintenance appointment.

“—magnesium, aluminum, silicon, phosphorus—”

God, he’d keep this up all day unless she stopped him.

“Ed.”

“—sulfur, chlorine, argon—”

“Edward.”

“—potassium, calcium, scandium—”

“Ed!”

His recital stops halfway through the word titanium. For the first time since he’s laid down, he looks at her. His face is red and sweaty, and Winry wonders if she’s as red as he is.

“It’s normal, you know.” Maybe for typical, teenage male patients, but Edward wasn’t typical, and he wasn’t just her patient. “I mean, I’m bound to see you… get an erection eventually.”

She swears she sees Edward attempting to melt into the table.

“Don’t say that!” he nearly yells, sitting up. It draws her attention back to his groin. “It’s not like I wanted it to happen!”

Obviously. Most of her male patients didn’t want it to happen, but it had, anyway. It was a normal part of being a man.

“Stop making it so weird!” She forces herself to look back at his face. “It’s normal, Ed. You’re a sixteen-year-old boy. It’s bound to happen.”

“Not like this it isn’t!”

She sighs. Had she done something to provoke this? His previous examinations and installations had gone smoothly, save the instance in Briggs. To this day, she can’t figure out what had provoked him, then.

“Ed—”

“You’re in that… stupid zip-up top with your stupid coveralls at your waist and you’re so close to my crotch…” His hands move around wildly. “And… and we’re dating now… and it’s… I can’t… Ugh!”

For the first time in her life, she covers her chest with her arms.

“Oh, so you’re blaming me?” she snaps. How was this her fault? She’d dressed like this for years and not once had he ever complained.

“Yes! No! I mean no! Nonono!” He shakes his head back and forth. “I just— you just— you’re just really hot and so close to my— dammit, Winry!”

She blinks.

This was the first time he’s called her hot.

She feels she should be as embarrassed as he is, but she isn’t. Instead, she’s on the verge of grinning.

Her arms fall to her sides. A smirk is all she allows on her face. “Hot, huh?”

“Shut up!” He turns his head away from her. “Don’t make me say it again. Not like this!”

She begins to laugh.

Edward’s head whips back around, and he looks to her with confusion. “This isn’t funny, Winry!”

“I’m not laughing at you!” she assures him. She grips his automail knee, leaning forward and laughing. “I’m laughing because this is what it took for you to call me hot! This is far from romantic, Ed!”

“Can you please shut up? I’m begging you.”

She wipes a tear from her eye and straightens herself. She grins at him, his face red, mouth twisted in embarrassment. “It’s cute, Ed.” She kisses his cheek. “You’re cute.”

He blinks at her before casting his gaze aside. “There’s nothing cute about popping a boner during your maintenance appointment.”

With her palm pressed against his chest, she pushes him back down against the table. His back hits with a thud. She grabs her screwdriver and returns to the plating above his knee. “Maybe not, but it’s okay because you’re cute, Ed. And it’s okay because we’re dating.”

He grumbles and covers his face with his hands.

“What isn’t cute,” she starts, removing screws one by one, “are the patients that get erections.”

He sits back up. Her screwdriver slips.

“Patients?! Who?! When?!”

She sighs. Maybe she should’ve kept that to herself.

“Forget it, Ed.”

“No! Do I need to be in here when you work on guys?! No, don’t answer that’s because I will be. And they’re getting thrown on their ass if they so much as look at you funny!”

x x x

True to his word, Edward stood watch across the from examination table, leaning against the wall, staring at her patients. Winry could only watch as Edward dragged poor young Jared out of the room by his ear, lecturing him on how he shouldn’t ogle a taken woman, let alone his mechanic.

#edward elric #winry rockbell #edwin #edward x winry #edward/winry #otp: equivalent exchange #fma #my fics #equivalent exchange #aljskskskdmsksk #they’re so awkward

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

Text

�� 🔥🧼SPA DAY FROM HELL 🧼🔥🛁

Prompt: Y/N has never been happier to finally have her spa day time at home, but what it should be a relaxing day, becomes quite the opposite when a beautiful Irish man decides to join her.

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Finn Bálor x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut(implied), fluff, frustrated spa day, clingy Finn.

Notes: This is dedicated to my sincere love for cosmetics and Fergal Devitt! 😂 I don’t know why, but Finn has always gave me the feeling of being extra loving, extra caring, extra sweet, even a little needy and clingy (which I’m a sucker for guys who can be extremely affectionate) and he just seems like the type, that’s why most of my fluff ideas for stories always end up having him as part of the plot, he exudes that energy of pure love and affection, I don’t know, there you have it I guess.. Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

Earlier that morning

I finished gathering all of my essential materials for my weekly spa day at home.

This was a sacred weekly routine I’ve had for as long as I can remember, one day of the week where I would shut myself off the world, without a single care for nothing except my own self! In crazy weeks, such as the one I just had, this was the day I eagerly waited for. My little piece of heaven on earth, where nothing could go wrong...

I was beginning to take my clothes off when a loud thump coming from downstairs, in the living room, startled me to death.

*Oh God, please don’t let it be an intruder* I silently prayed as I grabbed a metal baseball bat from the bathroom (Yes, I have one metal baseball bat on each room of this house ok? I know it sounds slightly paranoid, but I’ve had a rough childhood so don’t judge me!)

I made my way downstairs in my underwear and armed with my faithful baseball bat. I already placed it to attack mode, when I saw a manly figure kneeled down, messing around with a large bag, with his back facing the stairs.

*A burglar! Oh, you’ve messed with the wrong house motherfucker!*

As I was ready to give my knockout attack to the back of his head, the man said

“Argh! Every damn time this happens ta me! I need ta fix this cursed zipper”

*I know that voice..*

“Fergal Devitt! Have you lost your mind?!”

Finn’s whole body jumped from fright and he turned to face me.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N! Ya almost gave me a heart attack!”

“No, I almost knocked your ass down, Devitt! Don’t you know better than showing up like a creep on my house like that?Don’t you know all about my ‘attack mode’ whenever I hear noises around the house?Fuck, I thought you were a burglar or something, I almost killed you!” I said, with my heart still beating at a ferocious pace from both the fright and almost hurting him.

“And did ya planned on killing tha burglar with tha bat or from a severe hard on?” He pointed with his chin towards my black and red lace lingerie.

“Ha ha, very funny Fergal. I’m serious! I could’ve hurt you really bad you know?”

“Oh trust me, ya are” He stood up and adjusted himself on his black jeans.

“Finn, I’m not joking babe” I said placing the baseball bat down on the couch.

“Me neither! Those are ta kill any man” He said as he approached me.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, tightly securing me on his embrace while he kissed me deeply. Once we broke the kiss, he looked at me and said

“I’m sorry ta scare ya like that, I just wanted ta surprise ya”

“It’s ok baby, I loved the surprise, but please don’t do that anymore! It scares me to think what could’ve happened if I didn’t notice it was you.” I pecked his lips “Just give me a heads up next time ok?”

“Ok love. Now what do ya say about we go upstairs and have a little adult fun time, huh?”

“Uhmmm, I don’t know about that..” I teased

“I’ll make ya change yer mind love” He lightly chuckled as he kissed down my neck

Later in the afternoon

I begin to lay out my products on the bathroom sink, carefully choosing where to begin. When Finn bursted through the bathroom door.

“What yer doing love?” While he bites on an red apple.

“Jesus Finn, don’t you know how to knock?”

“What? There’s no need fer me ta knock”

“Yes there is!” I said shocked “What if I was doing something private?”

“Private?” He chuckled “Love, I’ve seen it all before. Yer gorgeous. It’s not like ya need ta hide from me” He sincerely smiled

I just took a deep breath as a response

“Ya didn’t answer me. What yer doing?” He pointed to my products beautifully placed on the sink, while he hungrily chewed on his apple.

“I’m setting things up for my spa day”

“Spa day?”

“Yes, I always take one day of the week to have some quality me time in which I happily do my weekly spa routine” I smiled at him proudly

“So what exactly do ya do on this spa day?”

“Well it changes depending on the week I’ve had. Sometimes I do more, sometimes I do less, but today I’ll be deep exfoliating my body and face, put a detoxifying mask on my hair and face followed by a nourishing mask for my face, applying a moisturizing mask on my hair and a deep moisturizing lotion on my body. I also might do my nails, but I’m not sure yet”

When I didn’t get a response I looked up to Finn who’ve had mixture between shock and amusement on his face.

“What?” I asked

“Wow love,that’s...a lot! No wonder yer skin’s so fucking soft” He said in awe

“Well..I like doing that..is sort of a way to relax I guess” I was blushing in sort of an embarrassed way

“I don’t mean it like it’s a bad thing ya know?! How do ya know so much about those things?”

“I don’t know that much about it, I just like reading about it and testing products...Some people see it as a futile thing but, I like it you know?” I said slightly self conscious about the amount of time people judged me as a complete hollow, materialistic and futile person, just for my sincere love for cosmetics.

Finn stood up from the tub, where he was seated, made his way to me and placed his hands on my hips.

“Well, I don’t think it’s futile. I think that ya shouldn’t be embarrassed about tha things ya like, ya should be proud of it, love! Besides” He started to kiss down my neck “I love tha fact that I get ta enjoy tha end results” He roamed his hands upon my bare skin

“Finny...if you keep doing that, I’m not gonna be able to do anything” I sighed

“But I can’t help it! Yer skin is so soft, ya smell so good and I’ve missed ya so much” He pressed his hardening bulge against my ass “Tha only thing I had ta keep me company at night was yer t-shirt...It helped, but it’s not tha same...” He pressed me harder against him “I need ta give it back ta ya, since I’ve made such good use of it, it doesn’t even smells like ya anymore baby” He bites my ear lightly

“Finn....please babe” I tried to fight back the growing need of him

“C’mon love, just give me a few minutes huh?! I just need some loving” He started to dry hump his hard bulge against my ass

“Fuck” I moan “Fine, just a few minutes”

In the late afternoon

“Finally” I sighed softly to myself. As I was opening the package of my face mask I hear some terrible singing coming from the room next door. It sounds like a fucking dying animal..

“Oh God, please tell me this is a joke” I made my way to the room next door and entered, just to find Finn only on his briefs, with headphones on, singing terribly to the very loud music playing, doing some laundry.

“Finn?” I called, a minute passed with no response

“FINN?” Still silent, as he bounces his hips (or at least tries to) to the rhythm of the music. When I realize that my yelling is useless, I made my way towards him and took one headphone out.

“Fergal?”

“Hey love” he pecks my lips “What yer up to?”

“I’m trying to relax” I said slightly annoyed

“Oh, I can help ya with that” he smirked as he reached for my tank top. I slapped his hand away, before saying

“I don’t mean it like that, I mean I’m trying to do my spa day, and your awful deadly singing is not helping at all. I love you, but you’re so fucking tone deaf! It’s driving me crazy!”

He chuckled and said as he approached me

“I have another way ta make ya relax love..”

“Fergal! Don’t you think, we’ve fucked enough already? We’ve done it twice and you’ve only been in this house for six hours!” I backed away from him

“I can’t never get enough of ya lass. I don’t think we’ve fucked enough already, I want ta fuck ya all tha time.” He reaches his arms to me

“Fergal, don’t you dare”

“Come here Y/N, let me tell ya a secret” he smiles deviously

The fucker knew what effect he has on me every time he gets this raw and possessive.

“Finn, I’m serious”

“Don’t be like that Y/N, I just want ta tell ya something, come here”

“You can said it out loud, I’m listening”

“I told ya it’s a secret, nobody can hear it”

“It’s just us here Fergal”

“Still..” He ran towards me, I was caught off guard so I didn’t even had time to process his surprise attack until I was laying down on the floor and Finn on top of me, pining me down.

“Ferg, what are you doing? Let me go”

“Hmmmm, I’m not really in tha mood ta let ya go” His eyes sparkling with mischief

“Finn, please I got stuff to do” I tugged my wrists in an attempt to free myself from his grip

“You were tha one who came in here lass”

“Yes, because I thought there was a dying animal on this room, Jesus, you almost got me deaf with your rotten singing”

He only chuckled as he buried his face on my neck

“In a few minutes I bet ya there’s gonna be another type of screaming in this room”....

In the late evening

I had sadly gave up my spa day and was only filling up the tub so I could take a bath, it was the only thing I could do since I was exhausted thanks to Finn.

The bath salts smelled incredible so I strip off my remaining clothes (which consisted in basically my tank top and panties)

And hopped on the bathtub, I sighed in content, feeling my muscles start to loosen up and the relaxation finally hitting me. But that soon went down the drain when the bathroom door opened

“Hmmm smells nice in here”

I opened my eyes to see Finn at the foot of the bathtub *Please tell me I slept in the tub and drowned and this is my version of hell*

“So selfish Y/N” he clicked his tongue

“What?”

“Ya didn’t even invited me?”

I had already accepted the fact that I wasn’t gonna have a time for myself as long as Finn is home so I just said

“Do you wanna come in?”

He just smiled like a little boy and took off his boxers. I leaned forward to give some space for him to hop on behind me, but he said

“I want ta be in tha front”

It was a rare occasion for Finn to want to be in front of me, but whenever he was far away for a long time he liked to be the little spoon, it was cute to see a man as strong as Finn wanting to be the one who’s comforted. I actually eager those moments when we would switch places and I was the one able to take care of him.

He sat on the tub in front of me, resting his back on my breasts, his head on my shoulder, pulled my legs on top of his so that his arms could rest on my thighs. One of my arms slides on top of his shoulder to cross his chest while my other arm was resting on the side of the tub stroking his short hair. As he hummed in appreciation.

“I like this love”

“Yeah, me too” I kissed his cheek lightly

After a few minutes of a comfortable silence he says

“Are ya mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I ruined yer spa day?” He looked at me with guilty eyes

“Finny, you didn’t ruined baby, you just...happily convinced me of doing other activities instead” I chuckled softly

“I’m sorry love, is just that, I can’t help it ya know? I love ya so much and I missed ya so much that I just wanted ya all ta myself today”

“Oh Finny, that’s so sweet baby. You can have me whenever you want sunshine. I’m not complaining”

“So does that mean that I can have ya all fer myself tomorrow?” He stared at me pleading with those beautiful ocean blue eyes

“Of course baby, you can have me all day if you want, at least for as long as you’re home” I smiled

“Really? Everyday, all day long, without ya having ta work?”

“Yeah, I promise you”

“Good” He sighs in content

“How long are you staying home?”

“Two weeks love”

My eyes widened in shock “Two weeks?”

“Yeah, I managed ta get a few extra days off” He smirked and pecks my lips

I still looked at him in disbelief, I was ready for four days or something, now two weeks?

“Good thing ya work fer yourself, right love?” He hummed satisfied “Oh can ya wash my hair please? I love when ya do that”

I just nodded in agreement

He happily smiles “Thank you baby. I love ya” As he rested his head on my shoulder again and closed his eyes

How the hell was I supposed to fuck this Irish man four times a day for two weeks straight? Maybe I should Google that, right?...

#fergal devitt #finn balor one shot #finn balor x reader #finn balor fanfiction #finn balor #finn balor imagine #finn balor smut #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #wwe one shot #wwe imagine #wrestling imagine #masochist writes

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

What about prompt #3 with the Macaque/Tang pairing? That one art is getting me REALLY curious about what their potential dynamic would be like

I had an idea a long while ago about what could happen to Macaque after episode 9, and I have my Deadpool-seque immortality HC for him as well, so I’m combining those ideas and setting this between episodes 9-10 since we don’t know how long MK was training with Wukong after their fight. This is also very different from how I would write them if they met outside of this very specific circumstance.

Warning: vague descriptions of his injuries, descriptions of his healing abilities, mentions of emotional manipulation in canon (none to Tang himself so you don't have to worry about that here).

I’ve been waiting to get to know you from the moment I first saw you.

There were worse positions that Six-Eared Macaque could have landed himself in, especially after his fight with Sun Wukong’s successor, so all things considered... the immortal monkey was incredibly lucky at the moment.

He was in a very soft bed, firm enough to not give too much when he moved but laid on top of extra plush bedding now that he wasn’t bleeding as much as he had been it was much more comfortable. Half of his body was still coated in bandages, though they were more makeshift casts wrapped around items to keep his limbs still than anything else at this point.

Only his right arm and head had managed to make it out mostly unscathed, both fully healed by now. This meant he wasn’t completely unable to entertain himself, a thing called an “e-reader” held in his hand. And as the door to the house he was in opened he thought about his luck.

There was no way this man didn’t know who he was when he found Macaque. Even if the Kid managed to be taken in, apparently his tale hadn’t been completely lost. This house, what little he saw of it when dragged inside and through the halls, was filled with books and art of the Journey. Not everywhere, but just enough to be noticeable. And the recognition on the man’s face when he found him, laying in the rain soaked ground and covered in blood and mud and looking like death itself was instantaneous.

And yet, despite that... and despite the pictures of the Monkey Kid himself he saw on the walls...

“Macaque, you’re awake,” the man spoke, voice still soft and tentative but with a layer of genuine relief and excitement under it. His name was Tang. “I hope you’re feeling as well as you could be.”

Macaque took note of the fact that he didn’t say “better” or just “well” as he lowered the e-reader, bring pulled from the genre known as science-fiction. “As well as he could be”. He seemed mindful of both his condition and his abilities at all times.

“I suppose you could say that,” He said evenly, watching as Tang prepared some kind of medicine for him. He never bothered asking what it was, just some kind of pills and ointment that numbed him enough to make the pain manageable. “I take it nothing happened today.”

It felt odd. Talking like this. He hadn’t just talked to someone in centuries, not really. But what was there to lie about here? Tang knew that he had manipulated the Kid, he said as much to him when he woke. Tang knew of his history, knew who he was and was apparently angry that he hadn’t elaborated on the fact he could have been the same Macaque from the story and not another one (given the story greatly exaggerated his death... or, well, exaggerated that he had stayed dead).

Tang knew he was evil. Knew that he hurt someone he cared about. Knew that he would have been fine eventually if he left him outside, if in a great deal more pain. So why take him in? Why wash his wounds? Why dress them? Why feed him and give him things to entertain him through his bedridden days? Why talk to him, why ask him about the accuracy of the stories?

He was at first annoyed by all his questions but after a day he had given in and just talked and... and he never realized how much he missed just talking to someone. But he still didn’t know why.

He never built up anything to ask. Tang never explained. It lingered between them like a soft breeze, always there and threatening to grow strong. But not causing any disturbance, not yet.

“No, but there are rumors about something going on with the Demon Bull King...” Tang trailed off, genuine worry peppering his tone. It wasn’t as if Macaque was particularly interested or as if he could actually do anything with the state of his healing as it was... but something about that tone made something sink in his chest and he didn’t like that.

Tang was... different, from most humans he had met. Not entirely unique, he wasn’t that different from others, but still. It had been a long time since he met someone who would talk back to him and tell him to “shut up and let me help you”. Reprimand him, him, for trying to leave the bed before his bones reset. Who took his sass with an unbelieving raised eyebrow and a “yes, I totally buy that” and even had the gall to toss food like pieces of candy into his open mouth when Macaque went on an angry rant just because he could. He knew all about him already and he didn’t take any of his bullshit.

He hated to admit it... but he didn’t hate this human. Tang. He didn’t hate Tang.

Neither said anything as Tang handed him the pills, pain killers he called them, and water once Macaque put them in his mouth. Neither said anything as Tang tested the spots on his arms and legs where there were breaks, his ribs long since beating them both to healing, testing to see exactly where anything needed to be reset or rewrapped due to Macaque’s movements in his sleep.

It had been a long week and a half... Macaque almost didn’t want them to heal.

Healing meant he would have to...

“At the rate you’re going,” Tang started with a mirthful laugh, looking equal parts happy and sad. “You’ll be out of here by the end of the week.

Macaque said nothing, setting aside his water and scowling for a moment. He mulled the thought he just had in over in his mind before deciding that... if Tang had let him stay this long... he may as well say it. It wasn’t like it would change anything except whether or not he was happy when he left.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Tang’s head shot up from where he was inspecting his arm, face one of shock and confusion and... if Macaque looked deep enough into his eyes, he could swear he saw something akin to hope that he was being serious.

So he took a chance.

He lifted his good arm and placed his hand on the back of Tang’s head, pulling him closer slowly as he waited for him to fight back or say something. But Tang didn’t. He let the demon pull him closer and closer until his nose touched Macaque’s and Macaque stopped... and Tang moved forward and pressed their lips together.

Macaque knew then and there that he had made a mistake and both of them would hurt when he left the second a fire lit in his chest and his eyes closed and the kiss deepened.

The next day he finally asked Tang why he had given him a chance.

"I’ve been waiting to get to know you from the moment I first saw you."

(Tang was right. Macaque was ready to leave by the end of the week. So he did, in the midst of the chaos of the Demon Bull King taking everything over. Tang hadn’t come back one day and he watched the news from the house well outside the city. He stayed around outside, just long enough to watch Tang come home, watch him find an empty made bed, watched him grab the e-reader he had given Macaque and slam it into the wall and yell about how stupid he had had been to fall for the demon monkey. How he should have known he would leave.

Macaque left before he allowed himself to actually feel regret and comfort the man who had taken him in and helped him and made him feel something more than hatred and the rush of victory for the first time in centuries.

They both mourned a relationship they never had.

And maybe one day Tang came home to sweets and other gifts after the Lunar New Year Festival.

And maybe one day a dark furred monkey mistaken for Sun Wukong helped a certain Monkie Kid from the shadows because he remembered the sad look his father figure held when he watched him talk about him being hurt.

Maybe one day Macaque returned, angry and confused due to plans unable to be finished as he time after time remembered the human who helped him heal in more ways than physically over 2 weeks and that healing, while not enough to change him then, had lead to him second guessing his decisions for the months to come.

Maybe Macaque would ask for a second chance, gruff and hating every moment that he had to be nice to anyone else who wasn't Tang. But begrudgingly trying. For Tang and no one else.

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Who am I to tell.)

#maybe they're doomed and maybe they're not #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #ship fic #six eared macaque #tang #shadownoodles #tintedlenses #i kinda started using the second as a ship name before remembering the former was suggested #prompt fill #this is hurt / little teeny comfort at the end

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jazzistolkienfanfics · 3 years

Text

Younger - Aragorn x reader

Hi! I was wondering if I may request an Aragorn x Fem!reader with the prompts 7 and 11?

@dark-angel-is-back jesUS CHRIST WHY IS EVERYTHING Y’ALL REQUEST FOR ARAGORN SO FUCKING SAD?!

7. “I’m not leaving you!” 11. “Why didn’t I tell you I loved you before you left?”

Type: Imagine Pairing: Aragorn x reader Summary: alone, in a tavern in Bree, waiting for the four Hobbits he’s been tracking to show up, Aragorn Elessar reminisces on when he was younger Warnings: angst, sadness, y’all know the deal with every Aragorn piece i write for you guys Word Count: 1322 words

A/N - Estel was Aragorn’s name when he was younger.

Aragorn stared into his mug distastefully, and once again wondered why he had ordered a toxic forgetfulness potion that many of Men, Dwarves, and even Elves loved to drown their sorrows in.

Then, he heard the familiar scream echo around his mind, as it had for more than half a century, and he gripped the mug almost painfully, downing it in one gulp.

Determined, e/c eyes, staring him down in a way only she could.

A loud, enthusiastic laugh that always brought a smile to Aragorn’s lips as he watched her.

The crushing guilt as he held a scrap of once f/c fabric, now soaking with red, close to his chest, bowing his head and letting the tears fall.

No. No! He would not linger in the past tonight. Aragorn had a job to do: a-a mission. So why couldn’t he ... stop thinking about her?

It had been the same way for so long. He could never stop thinking about her. Everything about her, perfectly frozen in his memory.

Y/N Y/L/N. She wasn’t perfect, but maybe that was what was so ‘perfect’ about her.

Before he could pull himself away from thinking about her, memories overwhelmed him, like a long-overstressed dam breaking and releasing floods of water.

“Who’s that?” A young Aragorn, around five years old, asked Elrond, tugging on the Elf’s golden robes.

Elrond followed the child’s eyeline, to a four-foot-tall elleth who was laughing as she ran around a pillar, being chased by an exasperated child-nurse.

“That’s Y/N,” Elrond explained. “She’s ... hmm, I’d say 20 summers?”

He laughed at Aragorn’s shocked face.

“But she doesn’t look that old!”

“And I do not look six-thousand,” Elrond explained. “But she is basically the same age as you ... at least, she looks and acts like it.”

Aragorn was too young to know that the Lord of Rivendell was teasing him, and he continued to watch Y/N.

“Go on, Estel,” Elrond pushed him forward gently. “Go make a friend.”

Aragorn sometimes wished that he had never met her, because then everything that happened after would never have had those disastrous consequences.

But, then again, he wouldn’t trade the beautiful, unforgettable memories he made with her for anything.

On what would have been her birthday, he drank another ale to her, and found himself pulled into memories again.

“Psst. Estel. Estel!”

Aragorn rolled out of his bed so fast that he fell off, and he could hear loud laughing noises.

“Shut up, Y/N,” he replied, for he knew that there was only one person who would wake him so early ... or late. He had no idea what day or time it was. “What do you want?”

“I want to go outside,” Y/N said simply. Aragorn could see her now as she stood, sitting on the edge of his bed. She’d changed much since she was younger - her h/c hair was now h/l, her e/c eyes wiser and deeper, and she was now (your height) instead of the mere four feet of a child.

She was beautiful, as all Elves were, but there was something in particular about Y/N Y/L/N ... Aragorn shook his head. He wouldn’t dwell on things that could never happen.

“What, like, outside this room, or-”

“No, outside Imladris,” she corrected.

Aragorn shook his head. “We can’t, Y/N! Elrond has forbidden us from doing so until we’ve seen at least another ten summers.”

“And since when did you ever listen to Elrond? You certainly didn’t fifteen years ago, when you met me.”

He hated it when Y/N was right.

“Where do you even want to go?” he asked finally, resigned.

“Just follow me,” she whispered as she threw a cloak at his face, sweeping out of the room.

Aragorn stared at the rain pelting against the Prancing Pony’s windows, still feeling as strange and disconnected he had felt years ago.

Y/N wasn’t by his side anymore ... but why did it still feel like she was whispering in his ear, or pulling his arm?

He just couldn’t really fathom how she couldn’t be still be laughing at him, a wide goofy smile plastered across her face as he grinned back.

It didn’t seem right or possible.

Aragorn couldn’t see much of Y/N’s face below the hood of her f/c cloak, but he was pretty sure she was smiling.

“Come on!”

“I can’t even see five feet in front of my face, much less the damn path,” Aragorn grumbled. “Slow down, Y/N.”

“Walk faster, Estel,” she repeated, in a mocking imitation of his voice that most would’ve found offensive, but he didn’t mind, just laughing instead.

Y/N joined him, sound of their voices quiet in the sheer roar of the storm.

“Pleasant time you picked for an adventure,” Aragorn offered.

Y/N seemed to be about to reply, but she gasped instead, pointing. “Look!”

Her finger was raised towards the sky, and he followed her eyes, looking up into a sky full of ...

“Stars,” he murmured. “They’re beautiful.”

Something about the rain made the constellations clearer than ever - they glimmered with an ethereal beauty just as much as Y/N did.

Aragorn’s eyes widened when that last thought snuck into his head, and he looked to his side. Y/N was oblivious to his eyes on her, her head raised as she smiled and laughed, twirling slowly beneath the pale light of the stars.

She stumbled mid-spin, and Aragorn caught her easily, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Sorry,” he flushed, letting go immediately. She, too, seemed to be blushing, but she waved off his apology, concern flashing across her face.

“That wasn’t me.”

“Sure it wasn’t,” Aragorn teased, but Y/N shook her head.

“No, I mean, I didn’t stumble. The rock moved.”

Aragorn looked around them, and suddenly, the rock moved again, a wide split forming in between them.

“Valar,” Aragorn cursed when he realised where they’d wandered. “Rock giants!”

He reached for Y/N’s hand, but the gap between them was growing wider, the rock shaking aggressively.

“Estel!” Y/N screamed, and, for the first time since he had know her, she looked truly terrified.

“Y/N!”

A massive grey hand seized her, small chunks of rock raining down on her as the stupidly tall giant got to its feet. It raised Y/N to his face, Aragorn yelling hopelessly as she flew even further out of reach.

The rock giant and Y/N stayed frozen in that position for a few seconds, giving Y/N the opportunity to scream something down to Aragorn.

“Run! GET OUT OF HERE! Please, save yourself!”

“I’m not leaving you!” Aragorn yelled back, desperate to save her, to do something, anything.

The rock giant didn’t seem to approve of their conversation, and it suddenly threw Y/N like a toddler having a tantrum, so that she landed at the bottom of the mountain, her body bent unnaturally ... lifeless.

“No!” Aragorn cried, disbelieving staring down at her. Another roar of the giant spurred him into action, jumping and running down to Y/N’s side.

A trickle of blood was leaking from her mouth and running down her cheek. Her eyes were vacant and unblinking. The f/c cloak had come loose from her shoulders and was now bloodsoaked.

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” Aragorn could find no other words as he shook her gently, listening for a breath, a sigh, anything at all.

Even in death, she was still beautiful.

Beautiful ... yes, that was exactly the word that he should use to describe Y/N Y/L/N.

And, far too late, he realised what he should’ve all along.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered to her still body. “I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t I tell you I loved you before you left?” Aragorn asked himself quietly in the bar, clenching his mug tightly when the image of her now eternally staring eyes wouldn’t leaving his mind.

His fault. His fault.

My fault.

The things that we did, when we were younger.

A/N - I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY BUT I REALLY LOVE THIS ONE THANKS FOR THE REQUEST @dark-angel-is-back!

thank you for reading!

#aragorn #aragorn x reader #x reader #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr x reader #you #sadness #angst

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rightsockjin · 4 years

Text

Here’s Number 13 with Yoongi! I hope y'all like it!

Summary: A road trip with your life long friend takes an unexpected turn for the best...

Rating: T (Teen- suggestive)

Genre: Fluff and like a hint of what could be smut...

Warnings: The ending... that’s it. Nothing triggering I think. Oh someone gets smacked in the ass. So there’s that... um... partial nudity. Underwear. ok yea.

Submit a request!

Prompt list

“Can you just get in the damn car?”

Yoongi wasn’t exactly a patient person.

From the day that you met him in middle school-

Well really you had met him sometime in Primary school but you had both at some point agreed that the story you would tell people when they asked when you two had met was that you met in middle school.

That being because well... you guys hated each other.

Kind of.

Yoongi hated you and you... well you didn’t take well to being hated.

That being said, when you guys did end up becoming friends, it was Yoongi who had proposed it after years of what he put as “rivalry”.

He’d asked you to share a Sunday with him and you guys spent the whole afternoon talking.

One thing led to another and from then on you were inseparable.

“But look at the sky,” you said, pointing at the stars as they had begun to ebb away with the moon.

It was slightly purple and pink and a little orange.

The sun was still too low to be seen but it was painting the sky prettily.

“We can look at the stars some other time. We’re gonna be late.”

You rolled your eyes as a shiver went through your whole body.

It was your annual winter road trip and every year, without fail, you refused to bring a thick enough coat.

“Late to what? We don’t even have a destination dude.”

Maybe it was because you-

Pft.

You couldn’t even think of a good excuse for yourself anymore.

In all honesty-

Which is something you had started to do recently.

Honestly.

-you realized at some point on the last road trip that it was because you liked it much better when Yoongi groaned... then smiled... and gave you his.

“Late to the beginning.”

Ooooooookaaayyy?

Whatever what meant.

“Yoongi... are you sure that you got enough sleep?”

Yoongi shrugged.

“Probably. I slept from like three until six,” he said, as you ripped your eyes from the beautiful sky.

“That’s three hours,” you gaped through the rolled down window.

The car hummed softly. The warmth emanating from the engine transferred from the aura surrounding it into your bones.

But not your teeth.

They... were chattering something fierce.

“Yo-you’re fucking joking right?”

When he didn’t answer you made an ugly noise somewhere in the back of your throat and hit the roof of his-

1988 maroon thunderbird

(And don’t you forget it)

(...it’s his baby)

(It even has a name)

-car.

Yoongi’s hooded eyes shot wide open in surprise and what you knew to be anger because- well-

Let’s face it.

Yoongi has one facial expression and it’s usually somewhere between annoyed and indifferent.

He was the picture of a human grumpy cat with softer eyes.

Dark hair...

Soft...skin....

Where were you?

Oh yeah!

Yoongi glared at you. His nostrils flared.

“Did you just hit Jisu?”

His voice was even.

It wavered not.

And neither would you.

He was a big softy. Yoongi was all bark and no bite. Even his bark was reminiscent of a Chihuahua.

And not one of those feisty ones. More like one of the rat things that had no hair and barked under their breath when you tried to pet them.

...without teeth...

...with their tongue sticking out....

“Yoongi... it’s a car.”

“Y/N... it’s my pride and joy.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Whatever. I’m not getting in your death trap when you haven't had a proper eight hours, Yoongles.”

“Listen, Squirt,” he began and waves upon waves of distaste rolled over your spine. Your skin pimpled as a blush rose to your cheeks.

You HATED when he called you...

*shiver*

*gag*

Squirt

“...and you know that I do NOT like when people hit her! She’s beat up enough as it is without having people like you smacking on her-“

SMACK

You’d hit the front hood a little harder than you would have regularly just to shut him up.

A small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. His lips fell open like he couldn’t really be bothered to hold it closed.

His pink tongue poked out slightly over his teeth.

He clicked, then-

“Okay fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yep.”

...you-what?

“Yes what?”

He pursed his lips and crossed his arms behind the stealing wheel.

“The road trip is canceled.”

You gaped at him.

Like that.

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and turned the engine off.

Slowly, but resolutely, he opened the driver’s side door and stepped out of the car.

“I-wha- Wait! Yoongi,” you ran around the front to where he stood.

He slammed the car door shut but he wasn’t angry. He patted the roof of the car affectionately, his back turned to you.

“...you can’t cancel-“

“Well you won’t get in the Jisu with me behind the wheel and you don’t know how to drive a fucking stick shift... what else is there to do?”

He was teasing you.

There was no way that he would cancel.

It was tradition after all.

And he would NEVER break tradition.

Well ok-

Yoongi wasn’t usually traditional.

Unless it came to you and your friendship.

He’s violently loyal to the point that one time-

When some guy had asked you out, upon your confirmation, promptly spanked your ass in the middle of home room, he’d stood without hesitation and slapped the dude’s ass back.

He’d gotten detention for a month.

The other guy, a month and a slap to the ass.

There was also a time when a nasty rumor was going around the school that that same guy and you were in a very... presumptuous position and your reputation had been shot.

Most of your other friends had believed it but not Yoongi.

Yoongi went around shooting nasty looks at anyone who dared say a bad word about you.

That’s when things had changed.

In retrospect.

For you at least. You doubt anything had changed for Yoongi.

But for you... that summer... the one of your junior year... changed everything.

No one was talking to you anymore. Your girls were now-

The Bitches ™️

And the only friend you had was Yoongi.

Your yoongi.

He’d become that then.

Yours...

Even though it wasn’t your place to make him so.

But you couldn’t help it. He’d changed. He’s grown an inch.

He’d started to work out-

And then stopped at the request of his mother because his clothing wasn’t fitting him and honestly Yoongi’s family didn’t have enough money to buy new threads-

-and for some ungodly reason, his father had given him his car and his now favorite cowhide leather jacket.

Vintage.

Let’s get that straight people.

It is vintage. Not old.

It was something in the way he listened to you.

With gentle nods and sarcasm at the ready.

It was his fake laugh.

And his laughter...

And the beautiful mornings

The way his gums popped out when you were falling asleep after pulling an all nighter under the stars.

It was his essence.

“I-well... but the road trip is-“

“Over unless you miraculously acquired the ability to drive stick or...”

He paused, looking at you over his leather clad shoulder.

“You get in Jisu, settle the snacks and apologize.”

You huffed. Your breath is visible in the early morning sky.

“I...” it was like being gutted.

Like a fish.

A cold dead fish...

“Am sorry.”

Whew.

That was tough but now you didn’t have to worry about him being salty all the way to-

“Not to me,” Yoongi said, interrupting your thoughts.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

“Apologize to Jisu.”

“The car?” You said under your breath.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, a smug gum smile in place, “the car.”

You deflated.

He wasn’t kidding.

That was the worst part.

He genuinely wanted you to apologize to…

Jisu

The car.

With embarrassment filling your empty stomach-

Well save for your heart which was digesting nicely!

-you sighed and said:

“Jisu... sweet... old... rundown-“

“Watch it,” Yoongi groaned.

“Fine! I’m sorry I hit you. It was rude of me. Will you ever forgive me and let me ride you?”

There was a pause in which you processed your own words.

You hadn’t meant to.

And really, if your mind wasn’t in the gutter it would have meant nothing but your Innuendo hung in the freezing air around you.

Damn were you good at saying stupid shit.

Yoongi cleared his throat and moved closer to you.

Your heart-

Now in a puddle.

-skipped a beat.

Your cheeks rouged.

He wasn’t touching you but you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. The warmth contrasted strangely with the coolness of the morning.

God... what you would give for his lips to touch you.

For his hands to graze your skin.

To wrap around your waist-

“WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT JISU DOES NOT ACCEPT YOUR APOLOGY AND FEELS HARASSED!”

You jumped a foot in the air.

Your arms flung around you in fear. Your elbow hit against something.

Pain shot through your arm.

You turned only to see Yoongi holding his shoulder-

The one someone had nearly run over a couple years ago and he’d had problems with since.

-and your panic soared.

“Oh my God! Are you okay? Why did you fucking yell in my ear dumb ass!”

Regardless of your harsh words, you rushed over to his side as his face screwed up in pain.

Pain you caused.

Fuck.

But he was laughing.

He couldn’t be that badly hurt could he?

“If your next question is if I’ll let you ride me the answer is a hard yes.”

Humiliation and anger rushed through your veins and into your fingertips.

Of their own accord, they began to smack every part of him they could reach.

“HEY! Why does Jisu get a better apology than me?!”

“Because Jisu is a girl and not an ass!”

It was in the way you always got the same taco from the corner stores and also rolled your eyes when he mentioned your addiction to strong coffee.

It was the way you snorted lightly-

And sometimes not so lightly.

-as he drove into the day.

It was the way you were drooling in that exact moment as the sun hit your pretty face and the seat was pulled back as far as it could possibly go.

Or maybe it was none of those things.

Or all of them.

Yoongi had lost track if he was honest.

Of all the things that made him wish he could tell you how he felt.

That he loved the moles that covered your body.

The shine from your hair after it was freshly dried.

He loved your musky perfume and the lotions you’d purchased in bulk because:

“If I like it might as well buy 12 of them.”

He loved your logic and the lack thereof.

He loved your style.

The way you refused to “ruin” an outfit with a jacket if it didn’t match and how- without fail- you always wore whatever jacket he handed you completely disregarding what you always said.

Like the one that he had lain over your trembling body as you slept when he’d stopped to use the restroom.

It was his dad’s.

It was old-

Vintage as you liked to say.

(Or bugged him by saying any time he tried to say it was old.)

It was riddled with discoloration.

It was his most prized possession.

Right after his car.

And you.

Though he’d never admit it.

And seeing you inside the car with his jacket draped over you like a blanket was doing things to him that he couldn’t comprehend.

It was like being enveloped in silk and velvet after a nice hot bath filled with lavender and rosewood and vanilla.

It was like soft musk caressing the folds of his brain, sending dopamine straight to the pleasure center of his cranium.

What he would give to touch you.

... in a less than platonic way.

The way your jaw stayed placidly open was also doing things to him.

This much less... soft

And a lot more

Well there’s no sugar coating.

Hard.

You stirred in your slumber.

His thoughts jarred to a stop.

You blinked then woke slowly. Confusion was evident in your eyes.

Quickly replaced by realization.

You looked down at the leather on your body.

The slightest smile pulled at your pretty lips.

You didn’t sit up.

You curled your small hands into the leather and snuggled against the softness.

“Morning,” you said, your voice slightly higher pitched.

A shiver ran through his nerves. His skin pimpled.

“You mean midday,” he corrected with a chastising roll of his eyes but the corners of his lips pulled up.

Fuck.

You.

...WAIT NO!

He shook his head, trying to keep his eyes forward and his mind on the road.

“Same difference,” you grumbled, pushing your arms through the sleeves of the jacket the wrong way.

Your short fingers stuck out at the edge.

A brief image of those same fingers pumping and wrapped around his-

“When’s lunch? I’m starving.”

He swallowed thickly.

“Well we ate maybe like four hours ago... “

“Exactly. I need food,” you said, righting your seat.

“We have snacks,” he said.

“But like... I want a burger.”

“Isn’t it too early for your road trip burger?”

Because every single road trip without fail, you both stopped at your favorite burger place and ate but it was only once in the whole road trip and you usually liked to save it for the road trip back to wherever you had come from for that year so you had something to look forward to.

“Mmmm, I’m feeling a shift in the matrix,” you said.

“Do you even know what the matrix is? Have you seen that movie?”

Offended, you turned to Yoongi.

He stayed facing the front.

“I LOVE Tom Cruise.”

“He’s not in that movie genius.”

You were silent for a second. Your eyes were wide.

“Hm... could have sworn....��

He smiled at the sun almost right above the car. There was not a cloud in the sky and he didn’t feel the least bit tired.

On the other hand he felt completely rejuvenated.

After a couple of miles, Yoongi let his smile settle and he cleared his throat as u set up your favorite road trip playlist.

You glance at him.

“You might wanna wipe the drool from your cheek by the way.”

“Fu-damn it Yoongi, why didn’t you say something earlier?”

It was raining.

Heavily.

Sadly, no men in sight aside from your long time friend.

Though...

Maybe not so sadly.

It had only been a couple more hours.

You had stopped for your burger.

And the sun was up and then-

BOOM

Thunderstorm.

Honestly, you were slightly worried.

Yoongi had been driving for a total of about ten hours that day and he’d been running on three hours of sleep.

You guys still had a couple more days of road trip to go.

Usually they lasted around three to four depending on how annoying you are being. And that’s counting the drive back home.

But at this rate... you guys might have to turn back early.

Now, you had no real clue where you guys were headed.

You never really did.

Yoongi never told you.

But it was cool.

Cool cool cool cool cool

Totally cool.

You trusted him and he had never led you astray.

Though... that one time when you guys got lost for nearly a week because he refused to check the GPS was kind of astray....

Anyway.

You never doubted he had good plans.

He’d taken you to amusement parks and landmarks and historical sights just for the hell of it.

He’d taken you wonderful places so you had never questioned him.

This time... you really, really wanted to know if a thunderstorm was even worth it.

You opened your mouth to ask but were instantly shushed.

Taken aback your eyes widened.

Again you tried to speak but one of Yoongi’s fingers came up to your lips to keep you silent.

“Look it’s coming down hard and I really cannot focus when you speak.”

You crossed your arms, his leather jacket rumpled slightly as it rubbed against itself after you had put it on correctly.

It smelled so much like him.

The leather smell permeated through your nostrils. But under it was something else. Something woody and fresh that was so... Yoongi, it made your head spin.

You frowned but settled in your seat with your mouth shut.

Soft lo-fi filled the air in the car.

You were no longer cold.

For obvious reasons which didn’t include the heating because it was broken in the car.

But you felt a shiver of fear run down your spine.

Yoongi’s black hoodie seemed darker now that the sky was cloudy.

It was pulled up to his elbows, his forearms out in the open-

As if that wasn’t illegal or some shit.

- and flexed slightly. His veins, prominent.

Another chill ran down your body.

This time... for a reason completely unrelated to your circumstances.

It was going to be a long drive.

The car broke.

Jisu broke.

It was about time it did too.

Though Yoongi was having a hard time.

Honestly... he was tearing up.

Or at least, you thought he was.

But he refused to look at you as the tow truck dropped you off at the nearest motel.

It was still raining ugly and you were still unbelievably cold.

Though maybe you were playing it up a little so that Yoongi would put up with you cuddling into his side.

It was partially for you but it was also for him.

He didn’t want to admit it but you knew.

You knew he needed something to ground him.

What better to do that with than with yourself?

“We’re here,” the driver said, squinting through the downpour.

“Thanks again for the lift,” you said since you knew Yoongi wouldn’t speak in fear of his voice breaking.

“Well you gotta pay darlin’” the driver said with a wink in your direction.

“But you’re welcome nonetheless. I can try to get you closer if you would like. Wouldn’t want you and your boyfriend getting a cold.”

A deep crimson blush filled the blood vessels in your cheeks and neck.

Your throat closed.

You coughed.

On instinct you pushed Yoongi away and made a disgusted face.

Yoongi’s nose twitched, his shoulders slumped.

“We- were not-“

“She’s single,” Yoongi said, his voice much stronger than you expected it to be.

“Friends,” he clarified.

Disappointment flooded your mind.

Friends. And that was that.

“I’m sorry but we only have one room available for the night,” the clerk said.

There was only one room?

“Does it at least have two beds?” Yoongi asked, giving you a worried look over his shoulder.

His hair was slicked to his head.

Waving slightly.

“I’m sorry sir,” the clerk said, “it’s a single queen bed. That’s really all we have.”

There’s only one bed????

What the fuck kind of fan fiction were you living in?

What are the damn odds?

Being friends since forever ago did not mean that you had shared a bed before.

There had always been a line that you didn’t-

Couldn’t

Wouldn’t

-cross.

This was by no means normal.

You glanced around the lobby trying to avoid looking at your friend.

“Well... okay. Shit. Yeah give me the room,” Yoongi said under his breath as if you, not hearing him, would make up for him taking the room.

He didn’t want you to think he’d planned this.

He hadn’t.

Why would he have?

How could he have?

He can’t control the fucking weather.

Regardless, as he got the key to the room he couldn’t help but feel sleazy.

He paid then thanked the clerk.

You were shivering.

Damn you and your insistence on not wearing a damn jacket.

His wasn’t enough.

You needed a shower. A warm one.

Your lips were nearly blue.

Without hesitation, he picked up his duffle and your rolling suitcase.

He casually walked up to you and wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders.

The leather was wet.

And now ten times colder.

He led you to the hallways of rooms on the first floor.

It was the last room in the far corner.

Yoongi had thought of multiple scenarios in which you guys ended up in a room together but never had he thought it would be while you guys were “just friends”.

You shivered under the weight of his arm.

“Come on, Squirt. Let’s get you in dry clothes.”

There were two things you hated:

Being cold,

And

Yoongi calling you Squirt.

Yet, this time... you were grateful for the cold.

And for the nickname.

Was it-

*gasp*

Growing on you?

Yoongi opened the door and with it came the strong scent that inevitably came with hotels.

To you, it had always been kind of comforting.

Like family trips and new adventures.

Today though, it smelled very much like nerves and fear and something shifting in the air.

It felt like nothing was moving.

Even as you stepped into the room and onto the slightly too dark green carpet, it felt like the world around you both had stopped turning.

Yoongi’s arm fell from around you and you mourned the loss.

You listened rather than watched him bring the bags in.

It was somewhere between 60-70 degrees and the wetness of your hair was seeping into your scalp.

Still, you refused to take off the jacket that was growing heavier and heavier as the rain soak in.

“Hey Y/N, give me the jacket.”

You spun around as he set down the luggage. He held a hand out.

Suddenly, you really didn’t want to get rid of it.

It felt like your second skin.

“Uh... but I’m cold,” you argued.

“And if you stay in that jacket you’re going to catch a cold. Hand it over.”

He curled his fingers in a “come hither” motion.

Your throat went dry.

Then, as if under a spell, you pulled the slightly heavy leather off of you and handed it off.

Yoongi watched you remove the jacket in a trance-like state.

You were staring at his hand.

He felt the fabric fall into his palm but he wasn’t looking.

He was staring, mouth open at your shirt.

Your white, long sleeve, wet, shirt.

And you know.

We all know…

What happens when a white shirt gets wet.

And now, Yoongi had the full boob-

PROOF

(dude that doesn’t even sound the same)

He had the full proof.

He blinked owlishly, glued to the way the fabric stuck to your chest.

He could see the skin tone bra that you were wearing.

The lines of your stomach visible lightly.

All the blood rushed to one of two places.

You know which.

Don’t lie.

He pressed the cold jacket against his body so that it covered what was quickly growing.

You watched him curiously as his mouth shut with a click.

You followed his gaze as goosebumps covered your arms.

That’s when you saw it.

And embarrassment wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what you felt.

You crossed your arms over your chest but you couldn’t turn away.

There was something else running through your veins aside from the humiliation.

Hope.

Because Yoongi wasn’t turning away and you weren’t stupid either.

You could see the strategic way that he was holding the slightly dripping jacket right in front of his…

Area…

And he had taken his eyes off your chest and now wasn’t even looking at you.

In a sudden burst of confidence-

And let's be honest, probably terrible judgement.

-you shimmied out of your shirt and balled it up.

Without letting yourself think of it too much before you chickened out, you tossed it right at his chest area.

Since it was wet, it made a wet-

PLOP

On his shoulder.

Confusion was clear on his expressionless face as he looked at the fabric.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes in question then did a double take.

You licked your lips nervously but tried to keep your nerves at bay.

This was normal.

You always hung out in your bra with your oldest friend.

Everyday things…

Pft.

Easy.

“Wh-what are you doing,” Yoongi asked, his voice wavering.

“The shirt was soaked through. I thought that I should get out of it as well.”

Then mustering all of your courage, you unbutton your jeans.

The pop of the button was unnaturally loud in your ears.

The zipper was deafening.

“W-wait! Y/N what the fuck?”

You looked up trying to keep your ‘this is totally normal’ look on your face.

“Getting out of my wet clothes. Isn’t that what you said for me to do?”

“I said to get out of my jacket,” he said harshly, using it to gesture at you half naked. Your fingers hooked on the waistband of your jeans.

“Well the logic follows, doesn’t it? Wet jacket,wet shirts, wet pants…”

You pushed them down your legs without looking at him.

“Off.”

You heard him hiss under his breath.

Fear gripped you as the cold air of the room hit your skin which was a little moist.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” Yoongi began.

There was anger in his voice.

“But whatever it is. It’s not funny,” he finished throwing the jacket onto the floor.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked into the restroom.

Your heart sank.

It was later in the night and you were huddled under the white blankets of the queen bed and Yoongi had yet to come out of the restroom.

You had thought you’d heard some low grunts coming from the restroom but then the shower had turned on and you heard nothing but the rain and the water.

Of course, unbeknownst to you, the grunts were very real.

Very much soft-

(in volume)

- for a reason.

And very much because of you.

It was when it was getting too intense that Yoongi decided to take a cold shower to calm down his hormones.

Still, he had decided to stay in the restroom for most of the night.

He was a night person anyway.

Always got his best thinking done when the moon was full and up.

This was no different.

He sat on the toilet seat, his legs spread wide and his elbows on his knees.

He was in his underwear and the shirt he had worn all day.

He hadn’t gotten the courage to walk out.

Not with the humiliation of having beat one out

(well not completely just a little bit)

(not that he was...little…)

To you in a bathroom while you were partially naked in the next room.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

Were you just so comfortable with him that you guys had crossed the friendship line to the point of no return?

Or were you attracted to him and that was some grand gesture?

Either way, he was terrified to guess wrong.

Why had he thought that this year would be different?

Why had he thought he could sweep you away on some romantic road trip in his crappy old car when he didn’t know the first thing about being romantic?

His idea of romantic was throwing a vintage-

Old.

let's call it how it is.

Old jacket on you when you were asleep.

It was spanking that asshole who had smacked your ass all those years ago.

And sticking by you when your other friends turned away from you.

It was branding them the Bitches and making sure that you knew that you hadn’t been at fault for the rumors.

Romantic Yoongi held your hand through your first year of collage and held your hair back the first time you drank too much.

It was him tucking you in when you guys spent all night out looking at the stars.

It was taking care of you when you were sick.

It was…

Throwing his prized jacket on you when you were cold…

And sacrificing his jacket so that the rain didn’t hit you directly even thought that might ruin it…

...

So he could see how you guys were confused.

Because isn’t that what friends did all the time?

Take care of each other?

And now, he had crossed a line he couldn’t get back from.

It was too late.

He’d missed his window-

If there was any window to begin with.

He’d missed it.

And maybe he just needed to be okay with that.

When you woke up, it was still super dark.

You half expected it to still be night but when you reached for your phone you realized that it was nearly noon and Yoongi hadn’t woken you.

You sat up, forgetting that you had slept in your underwear.

The sheets slipped from your top, the bra still on.

Suffice to say, your chest hurt.

Instinctively, you reached behind you to unclasp the bra but-

“Hey-hey-hey! Man in the room,” you heard from somewhere.

Your hands halted, still groggy, you blinked in the darkness.

“What man? All I hear is a grumpy Yoongi,” you mumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyelids.

A sigh.

A groan.

Then a lamp turned on before you.

The light hit your sensitive eyes. You blinked against the brightness and when you could finally comfortably open your eyes, your jaw dropped.

Yoongi-

Your Yoongi was sitting in the beige armchair.

His pale legs were spread wide.

His boxers-

He was wearing boxers…

!!!!

-were far too loose and hung on his thighs.

From your position, you could see his bulge though it was clearly not hard, or at least not entirely.

Still, the fabric was pulled over it.

His chest was covered with a white T-shirt.

His arms were on the arm rests.

Your mouth fell open.

Water…

God you needed water.

You looked around you but there was not a single glass in sight.

“I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve realized, Squirt but I am very much a man.”

You avoided his eyes.

“I try not to think of you that way.” you mumbled, pulling the sheets up to your chest.

Lying through your teeth…

You know..

Like a liar.

There was a pause.

“Why are you so shy all of a sudden? Last night you had no problem stripping in front of me.”

You froze.

What...what was happening here?

“You- you seemed less than happy about that if I recall correctly,” you said then when he said nothing you added, “and don’t call me Squirt.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

And ran a hand through his hair.

It stood on end.

Fuck.

Fuck….

He looked so hot.

“Only because you caught me off guard. Now,” he gestured between himself and you, his fingers conveniently pointing towards…

“We’re even.”

Even?

“So if you were to take off something else, I’d have to as well. For fairness. Of course.”

You-

Did he-

“We-Fair? Do- Do you hear yourself right now?”

You scrunch your nose.

You smelled something fishy.

Veerry...veeery fishy.

“Yes I speak korean, Y/N. The question is,” he stood, his boxers settling over his long legs, his shirt was tucked slightly into the elastic at his hips.

Where were you supposed to look?

The muscles on his arms.

His thighs, begging you to ride-

Or somewhere in the middle?

He had to know what he was doing to you.

He had to know that walking around in the loosest pair of boxers would draw your eyes straight to the center of his legs.

He wasn’t stupid.

So what angle was he playing?

(Acute ;])

“...Do you?”

He was by your side now. Your face was level with his stomach.

How does one react when your closest friend of your whole life is suddenly very close to naked in front of y-

…

Ohhhhhhhhhh....

“This is about me stripping yesterday...isn’t it?”

You held the covers up to your chest awkwardly.

Suddenly, you felt really stupid.

You shouldn’t have stripped without his consent.

You just really thought that...if you pushed a little, He’d see you as more than just “That girl that he hated in elementary school and is now stuck to him like gum.”

Did you just make that up?

Yeah.

Okay.

Moving on…

“What do you think,” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The muscles flexed under the white. Behind him, through the mirror, you could see his back side reflected.

Sculpted.

Fucking damn it.

If he was going to reject you couldn’t he have done it with pants on??

“I think…” but you couldn’t think. It was too much.

Too soon.

Too quickly.

You were on the edge of spilling the beans.

Teetering on a cliff and you couldn’t see the ground.

Was it ocean below?

You didn’t know.

You shook your head and forced yourself to look into his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Yoongles… I’m sorry,” you said.

His smug smile fell.

A small frown pulled at his lips and his shoulders slumped.

Yoongi had made a choice. He’d decided he was going to push.

He’d decided it was time to tell you.

This coming after he got a call fairly early in the morning about the car needing a part that wasn’t available and they wouldn’t be handing him Jisu that day.

Meaning… you guys were stuck together for another day.

In a motel.

Alone.

With nothing to do.

This was why he’d decided to wait for you in his boxers.

You’d made the first move and now it was his turn.

He’d hoped you would reciprocate.

But he had clearly been wrong.

It wasn’t that you were trying to seduce him.

No…

You had simply grown too comfortable with each other and your state of half dress had nothing to do with hidden feelings for him.

Well, he supposed that at least he hadn’t declared his love for you like he’d planned to do initially…

...as much as saying “Hey, I kind of wouldn’t mind going out with you”-

(this was a big deal because Yoongi avoided leaving his house at all costs… in all honesty, he hated road trips but you made it bearable and even a little fun)

- could be considered declaring his love for you.

He didn’t think he could handle the look of disgust on your cute face as he told you he had feelings for you.

Feelings…

What a joke.

Maybe this was for the best.

If you stayed friends, then it was probable that you guys would never stop talking to each other.

Another thing he couldn’t handle was losing you.

“It’s no fun if you just apologize, Squirt,” he said after a brief pause, choosing to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

You sighed.

He’d confirmed your worst fear.

He didn’t like you.

Not in the way you liked him.

And you’d made him uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to take it back and give you the wrong answer then? You know, for your pride?”

Yoongi sighed then chuckled.

“Would you? It would really make my day.”

You smiled up at your friend.

Like two pieces of a puzzle you had fallen back into your old dynamic.

It was almost like you guys weren’t standing half naked in front of each other.

“Anything to make your day, Yoongles.”

In a second, Yoongi had scooted you over. The other side of the bed was cold but you didn’t mind.

He slipped under the covers next to you.

He’d settled under them, his body faced towards you before he spoke again. A small smile on his soft baby lips.

“Is it weird that I’m starting to like when you call me ‘Yoongles’?”

You mirrored his position, putting a hand under your head. Your chest was slightly exposed, still covered by the sheets but he didn’t look down and you didn’t mind.

“No… is it weird I’m starting to like you calling me Squirt?”

“No,” he confirmed with a slight shrug.

A comfortable silence built up between you. Your eyes started to feel heavy.

Tentatively, Yoongi reached out and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His soft touch made you fall further into the land of sleep.

When your breath had evened out, Yoongi tapped your nose then traced your slightly parted lips.

This road trip hadn’t gone how he wanted it to.

Not by a long shot.

But he couldn't say he was totally disappointed.

As you slept, he felt his own eyes begin to close. His eyelids were heavy.

He fell into the comfortable darkness not too long after you did.

You guys were friends.

And maybe, he just had to accept that.

Maybe it was for the best.

And maybe… just maybe… he could grow to be okay with it.

Some day.

Don’t hate me....

Masterlist

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theskywaslookingback · 4 years

Note

I've seen you taking prompts and if it's not a bother, Jontim with angy Tim letting all his anger go after Elias or someone equally nasty hurts Jon real bad?

you have the patience of a saint. here you go.

litany (in which certain things are crossed out)

"Every morning the maple leaves. Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts from one foot to the other. Every morning the same big and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out You will be alone always and then you will die. So maybe I wanted to give you something more than a catalog of non-definitive acts, something other than the desperation. Dear So-and-So, I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your party. Dear So-and-So, I’m sorry I came to your party and seduced you and left you bruised and ruined, you poor sad thing. You want a better story. Who wouldn’t?" - Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out, Richard Siken

When the tape clicks on, Tim can’t even find it in himself to be surprised. He’s been viciously marking over statements for at least an hour, highlighting anything that mentions a circus, skin, or a dance. There’s less of it than he thinks there should be, and every minute his eyes skim over written word after written word makes his blood boil higher and higher. He throws the marker to the floor, the bump and skid of the nub marking a trail of yellow from the desk to the floor where it rolls under Melanie’s desk.

“What do you want?” He asks flatly, his shoulders tucked up to his ears.

The recorder whirrs, cassette winding in its casing, a low hum of static emitting from it as the previously locked trap door to the tunnels swings open. Jon comes tumbling out, breathing hard. He looks...God, he looks like a wreck. Hair cropped haphazardly short, like chunks had been cut out with a bread knife, clothes hanging off him like rags. The door closes with an ominous creak, and is that--? Vaguely he makes out the shape of a hand, though that’s not right because no hand looks like that , waving right before the trap door shuts. But no, that’s…

“Well then, where have you been?”

Jon looks up, startled. There are deep bags under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept in weeks. His eyes dart off of Tim to the desk where the tape recorder sits. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I was...gone.” He says awkwardly. He keeps rubbing at his wrist and hand like they ache, and the skin does look rubbed red and raw.

“I know that. It’s not like you’re ever really here .”

The last time Tim really saw Jon must have been at least six weeks ago, shortly after their boss outed himself as a murderer . Tim tries not to think about that overmuch. The way Jon’s hand had gone for the recorder almost absently as he tried to apologize, to explain. Tim had yelled, he remembers that, said if Jon wanted to talk they would have to do it without the recorders and then Jon had left . And, well, that was the end of it, really.

Now, Jon flinches. His eyes resolutely trained on the floor at Tim’s feet and Tim can’t remember the last time that Jon looked him in the eye. Like everything else at the moment it just makes him angry.

“I-- I have to talk to Elias.” Jon says. He pulls himself up to standing and shuffles past Tim like it hurts to move.

“Jon.”

Jon stops. “Get this thing off my desk.” Tim can’t bear to look at him.

“Oh.” Christ , why does he sound so sad? “Yes, of course.”

The hand that comes down is so small, dark skin pocked over with holes that mirror the ones in Tim’s own hand. He remembers when they were both smooth, unmarked. The weight of that hand in his own, the feel of that palm under his lips. That seems so long ago now, before the stale air of the Archives turned them both sour and rotten. Jon’s hand closes around the smooth dark tape recorder, fingers folded around it both careless and reverential. His wrist and forearm are covered in abrasions, the skin peeling back in spots leaving half scarred, raw red skin. Before he can stop himself Tim closes his hand over Jon’s.

Jon jerks, in either fear or surprise Tim can’t say. “Tim, I--”

“What did this?”

“Tim it’s-- it’s fine I just...I need to talk to Elias.” Jon tries to pull away again and Tim squeezes hard enough to feel those delicate bones under him shift. “Ah! Ah! Tim--”

“ Jon .”

“Ah, the Circus, it was-- one of them kidnapped me and ah, they had me tied to a chair.” Jon chokes a little on his own words. “They-they we’re going to uh, wear me. I-I-I think it had something to do with a ritual. A dance. They called it the Unknowing .”

Tim lets go and Jon takes a step back, cradling his hand and tape recorder next to his heart. Tim can barely hear anything over the rushing of blood in his ears. He flexes his fists, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his chest.

“So what they just...let you go?”

“Not exactly,” Jon huffs, “it’s-- it’s complicated.” He glances over his shoulder to the Archives entrance, like calculating his chance at getting out the door before Tim can-- do what? Stop him? Is that what he wants to do? He looks so tired, his shoulders hunched and arms scabbed over with half healed rope burns.

“They hurt you.”

Jon huffs out a breath, preparing for...something. Some kind of denial most likely, or maybe even an apology. Whatever it is Tim can’t hear it right now. He stands, the scrape of his chair on the floor making Jon’s jaw snap shut.

He swallows. “Well, yes and no. I mean, my skin is in better condition than it’s been in years.” Jon smiles for the briefest moment before it falters into a grimace, “Is that weird? That’s...kind of all they talked about.”

“Of course that’s weird ,” Tim bites, “everything about you is weird .” He takes a full step toward the door before Jon grabs his arm. Tim shakes him off, more violently than he needs to or even intends.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to have a word with Elias.”

“Why?” Jon asks. It sounds startled out of him, like the abrupt firing of a gun. The tape crackles in Jon’s hand, growling like an aching, hungry stomach. “I mean, why do you care?” He doesn’t sound accusatory or angry, just curious.

‘I don’t,’ is what Tim wants to say. It’s what he means to say. But instead his stomach swoops and the words tumble from his mouth, unwanted and unbidden but true, “You’re all I have left.”

Jon’s mouth does something funny, trembling into an ‘o’. He fumbles for words, though nothing comes out but vague stammering noises. Tim snarls and grabs him by the shirt, twisting his hand in the fabric and pulling hard until Jon meets him chest to chest.

“Do not do that to me ever again.”

“I-I didn’t mean to--”

“Don’t.”

Jon goes quiet. His hand twitches like he wants to grab Tim’s but lets it hover indecisively to the side until Tim lets him go. Jon stumbles backward, bumping into Martin’s desk. “Okay,” he says hoarsely, “okay, I-- okay.” Then, even softer with his eyes on the floor he says, “I’m sorry.”

The inside of his chest explodes white hot, a mix of anger and guilt and shame, and Tim slams his hand on his desk. The cheap wood rattles, pens bouncing off onto the floor and rolling away. His poor desk plant tips to the side and crashes hard against the wood floor and spills ceramic and potting soil across the ground. Martin comes thundering down the stairs a moment later, his eyes wide and startled.

“Tim, what’s--” He starts before his eyes land on Jon and his mouth drops into a soft ‘o’. “Jon?”

“Martin,” Jon breathes, and it comes out sounding overwhelmingly relieved.

Martin crosses the room to fuss, his hands reaching out like he wants to touch but knows he’s not allowed. He reaches out and takes the tape recorder from Jon’s hand, overly gentle. Tim can’t...he turns and strides up the stairs with furious purpose. Martin can do whatever he’d like. If he wants to work himself up into knots trying to care for someone with no sense of self preservation or common sense he’s certainly welcome to do so. Tim’s already burned that bridge.

It’s just...when Tim had nothing else at least he had Jon. And there is a very small part of himself that misses Jon terribly. The easy laughter drawn out by late nights with bad takeout, bent over research reports and books on the occult they couldn’t possibly hope to understand. The curve of his mouth, small and shy, after a kiss. The feel of his hand on Tim’s back, or holding his own. His body, small and lithe, curled into Tim’s side while they walked to the tube after work.

He misses his friend more than any of that. He misses the trust.

Tim is at Elias’ office before he can even think about it, riding a wave of rage so strong it almost knocks the air out of him. He throws the door open, letting it slam against the wall as he storms through.

Elias sits back in his chair and doesn’t even pretend at surprise. “Hello Tim.” He says cordially, smiling for all the world like nothing could ever go wrong for him. “Jon’s back then, is he?”

“You knew,” Tim starts, voice simmering with fury, “this whole time you knew where he was, didn’t you.”

Elias blows out a slow breath. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

“Tim--”

“Elias.”

“I knew Jon had been taken, yes,” Elias says, splaying his hands out in front of him as though in supplication, though the look on his face is amused, “but I did not know where. I was working on it, though it seems Jon did not need my help in the end.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Tim snarls, slamming his hands down on Elias’ desk and leaning in toward him. “Why didn’t you say anything ? Why did you let us think--” He cuts himself off, biting into the inside of his own cheek.

Elias tilts his head and narrows his eyes, there’s something vaguely predator-like about that gaze that almost makes Tim uneasy. “And what good would that have done, Tim? Hm? Would you have gone to him? Saved him?” Elias leans in and his eyes are so bright Tim has to lean back. “No. Don’t lie to yourself. You would have watched too, just to see him suffer because you thought he deserved it.”

Tim clenches his jaw, teeth clacking together hard enough it sends a jolt of pain up the muscle. “You--” He starts, but there are no words to convey the wrath making itself at home in his ribcage. A rage turned inward because Elias is right and Tim doesn’t know what to do with that.

Elias just stares at him, patiently, eyes bright and lips turned up in amusement. When nothing else comes he finally leans back into his chair. “Right,” He closes his eyes for half a heart beat and then looks up at the door, “That will do for now, I think. Jon is on his way up here right now so no need to close the door on your way out.”

Tim turns on his heel and leaves, his throat tight. He does slam the door shut behind himself as he leaves, an attempt to soothe the complicated torrent working its way around his chest, making it hard to breathe. He sees Jon down the hall, striding purposefully toward Elias’ office. He’s barehanded, no tape recorder in sight, and somehow that gives Tim enough pause to gasp in a breath.

Jon hesitates when he sees Tim, rocking back on his heel like he doesn’t know where to go, and then Tim takes two steps forward and pulls him into his arms. It’s not quite a hug, Tim’s arms are too tight and Jon has no way to move either forward or back, but Tim presses his face into Jon’s hair anyway just for a moment. When he lets go Jon stares up at him, bewildered.

“Tim?"

“No.” Tim says sharply, “Don’t start, just--”

“Right,” Jon says, confused, “right, okay--”

“Just--” Tim huffs out a breath, “Stay safe.” He says and leaves Jon standing there in the middle of the hall.

Tim has lost so much in his life. He’d lost Danny, and he’d lost Sasha. Now he’d almost lost Jon and didn’t even realize it. It wouldn’t happen again, Tim thought fiercely, not ever again.

#prompts #anonymous #fic #my fic #jontim #jonathan sims #tim stoker #elias bouchard #litany (in which certain things are crossed out)

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Curiosity Killed the Kat

Author: @mellarkablegirl

Prompt: Everlark going to a haunted house (or other haunted tour event, e.g., zombie paintball, haunted farm, etc) Everlark can be friends or together. One of them is scared, and the other is fearless. You choose which! The emergence of fluff and/or romance is a bonus! [submitted by @mandelion82]

Rating: T

Author’s Note: This is part 1 of 3. The other two parts will be posted on my blog. Thank you!

__________

“Ugh! Peeta Mellark is the biggest thorn in my side,” she all but yelled into the emptiness of her apartment.

Katniss Everdeen, or as the gossip rags liked to call her, Miss Uptight Restaurant Heiress, was a perfectionist. She ran a tight ship. The three restaurants she owned on the upper east side of Panem were her babies, and if there was one thing she hated more than mistakes, it was a wrench in her carefully calculated plans. The head chef of one of her most celebrated outlets was just that, a giant wrench in her plans. Not that she could blame him really, but where did he get off with his jovial, always ready for a laugh, all-around chaotic personality? She still remembered the day she was forced (yes forced, there was no way she did it willingly) to hire the culinary genius, as the restaurant world called him.

She’d been having the week from hell. No scratch that. The whole month was doomed. She just couldn’t manage to keep up with all three of her restaurants. The fourth one had been in the pipeline for a while, waiting to be scrapped. Her mother had called up again, from whatever part of the world she was currently holidaying in with her latest husband, only to berate her on her lack of social life (read significant other).

And to top it all off her next-door neighbor just wouldn’t stop playing Metallica at the loudest possible decibel at ungodly hours.

So yes, she was a mess when her uncle Mitch walked into her office on that fateful Thursday morning. The first thing out of his mouth was,“ Sweetheart, you need a break and a drink, or six.” But his usual smirk was replaced with a look of concern. “I spent the weekend going over your plans for the new bistro, but I’ll be honest with you Kit, it makes the most sense to leave it untouched for now and revisit it later.” He’d called her Kit, and that’s how she knew just how serious this was. “However,” he said, “I do think I’ve found a solution for your other problem and have managed to set up a meeting with him too.”

“Him? What are you going on about Mitch? I have no other problems, it’s just been a bad week. And I hope to god you haven’t gone and set me up with that nephew of Effie’s!” she all but yelled at him.

He let out a belly laugh, a real one this time. “Oh no, I’d never do such a thing. I was talking about how you’ve been feeling so overwhelmed lately. I think what you need is to delegate your work to more people, and I think I’ve found the perfect candidate to fit that role.” She raised her eyebrow for him to continue, not wanting to interrupt what he had to say. “Kit you can’t keep going around handling all aspects of all three restaurants. You already handle the finances, curating the menu, and the whole running of the places. And if I’m being honest with you the menu’s been looking dull for a bit.”

A brief flash of anger (or was that offense?), followed by hurt, spread across her face before she settled on a serenely calm façade. “So what is it that you’re suggesting Mitch?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice void of any emotion.

“Hire a new creative head. A head chef, if you may? Try and spice up the menu and add a little more life to this place. It’s starting to get a tad boring if I’m honest with you.”

“Hire?” she asked incredulously. Then she sighed. “Hm, Mitch, I don’t I have the finances to hire a big shot chef right now. We are struggling as it is.”

“Oh sweetheart, you just need to go see him once. I’m sure the financials will fall into place. He’s an all-around nice guy. I’m pretty sure he’ll be flexible for us.”

Great, nice guys were easy to handle, right? Wrong. Because, for as nice of a guy Peeta Mellark was, he pushed all of her last buttons.

—————–

Two hours later, she found herself standing in the mall district, searching and failing to find an appropriate meeting location anywhere on the entire street. The place was drowned in various fall and Halloween paraphernalia, although the weird mishmash seemed to bring a smile onto her face.

Katniss stuck out like a sore thumb standing in a blazer and dress pants with a few files under her arm. Why would anyone invite your prospective employer to the middle of a busy shopping area on Halloween?

Her internal musing (and admitted grumbling) was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to the most brilliant flash of white teeth, blue eyes, and floppy blonde curls. Who was this golden retriever?

“Peeta Mellark. Nice to meet you,” he said extending his arm to introduce himself.

Her eyes widened, and the look she saw on his face was a mix of extreme joy and mischief. She took his hand and shook it vigorously, avoiding making eye contact, because if she did, she was sure to burst out laughing. She took in his outfit, regarded his chef coat, and what she could only describe as a pair of bottoms from a Marvel-themed pajama set. Was this the man Haymitch thought would be the best creative head of her restaurants?

No thank you.

“So shall we?” he asked, motioning towards the mall entrance. Her face scrunched up in a look of confusion.

“You’ve invited me to a mall? For what could be a business meeting?” she asked.

“Oh, we’re not going to the mall. We’re going there,” and he pointed in the vague direction of the building attached to the mall. Her eyes almost bugged out of her head.

“The Horror House?” she coughed and sputtered. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mellark. I think that’s highly inappropriate for the meeting. This is not a date; this is essentially an interview. ”

“Oh, Miss Everdeen, I think the Horror House is the perfect place to showcase my skills. You could always eat the food I cook at one of the restaurants. I’m sure you’ve gone through my resume before you came here,” he said, ending it with an infuriating smirk.

Where did this man get off? She admitted he was beautiful in a boy-next-door kind of way. He seemed very very confident about himself (a tad too much), and really what did he think of himself and her? Was this some kind of elaborate joke Mitch was trying to pull on her? He kept saying she needed to lighten up.

He piped up as if reading her thoughts came second nature to Peeta Mellark. “I’m sure the respected Katniss Everdeen isn’t scared of haunted houses?” But she was.

Was he egging her on? Because now he’d gone too far to insinuate that she was afraid, and if there was one thing Katniss was, it was a hot-headed, stubborn woman.

She put on her bravest expression and turned to Peeta. “Alright, Mr. Mellark, I’m curious to see how exactly you turn this experience into a prospective employment opportunity for yourself, but let’s get some things straight. I’m not your friend. Do not egg me on about being scared, and if you aren’t able to convince me in eighteen minutes on just how much I need you, I will walk myself to the car, and that will be the end of this conversation. I hope we’re clear?”

“Crystal,” he said with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Oh, the man was already getting on her nerves. How was she supposed to work with him? Yet, to be honest, she had read his resume and was impressed enough to hire him on the spot. Hell, Mitch had threatened to use his veto as the financier behind her projects to hire him if she didn’t herself.

But curiosity killed the Kat.

And as absolutely unprofessional and infuriating as Peeta Mellark was, his chaotic attitude seemed to intrigue her. She was curious to see how he’d manage to turn a haunted house trip into a successful employment opportunity. What she did not expect, however, was having a full-blown panic attack five minutes into the ordeal.

She’d always hated graveyards and spooky places (haunted mansions and abandoned buildings), but her true trigger was collapsing walls. Ever since she’d lost her Pa at the age of thirteen from a building collapse, she was extremely paranoid about being stuck in similar situations. Although, the first five minutes of the ride were comparatively normal, the usual jump scares caused her to latch onto Peeta’s hand.

It was at the entrance to the second room when a simulation caused the walls to start collapsing on them. Some part of her brain told her it was mechanized. Still, fear gripped her like a vise and wouldn’t let go.

As her senses shut down, she had the distinct feeling of being lifted off the ground. Was it an actual building collapse? Would she die in there? Maybe she’d see Pa now.

Her therapy conditioned brain made her automatically start reciting her mantra. “I’m Katniss Everdeen. I’m 26 years old. I run three restaurants: Iris, Luna, and Hestia on the Upper east side. I love the feeling of freshly fallen snow and marshmallows in hot chocolate. My favorite color is green. My dog Willow is an adorable puppy. I am going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. ”

She came to under the harsh fluorescent lights of the lobby. Comfortable earth engulfed her, and she felt someone rubbing her back as they muttered assurances in her ear. She lifted her head to look into the eyes of her tether, immediately getting lost in the bright pools of blue. The color was as clear as the sea off the Maldivian coast. He had tiny flecks of gold and green in them too.

She’d never seen a prettier pair of eyes before.

“Well thank you, Miss Everdeen,” came the deep reverberations of his voice, which she felt through her body. Then she realized she was cradled in his lap.

She leaped up like she’d been burned, a blush spreading across her face. The feel of his arm around her did things to her that she’d never expected. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mellark, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Peeta.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I believe if we’re going to be working closely together over the next few years, it only seems right that we get comfortable addressing each other by our first names.”

“Well, in that case, Peeta,” she said, testing how it felt to say his name out loud. “It’s Katniss from today forward.” His smile could have lit up the entire dreary dark Horror House with its brightness. “I’ll see you on Monday at Hestia. We start team meetings at eleven in the morning,” she said in a way of farewell, before turning to walk towards her car parked on the curb.

As she threw a backward glance over her shoulder, she saw him standing where she left him, smiling even brighter than before if that was possible.

He was infuriating.

Infuriatingly adorable, and she was going to have a hard time maintaining a strictly professional relationship with him. Never had anyone been able to break down her walls quicker, and she was curious to see just how well they worked together. After all, curiosity killed the Kat, but she had a good feeling about this.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #mellarkablegirl #submission #prompt

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pinkprimrose05 · 3 years

Text

GX Month Day 18: This Wasn't in the Rule Book

@gxmonth

Ao3 Version Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33473653/chapters/83310418

Why yes, it's prompt bending time! Wish this day came a bit later into the month so it was closer to the release date of Duel World ARC-V but, oh well, what can ya do? ...Oops, looks like I spoiled the chapter. Yes, this year's AU prompt also doubles as a celebration of ARC-V coming to Duel Links, and it's probably the one prompt I'm most excited to write because hoo boy I've been waiting for this moment for sooooo long! 8D

~~~~~

"Manual Reboot Successful. Initiate Sign-Up Process? "

"Initiating Sign-Up Process. Establishing Connection...Please Enter WORLD_ID."

"Response Recorded. Initiating Connection to WORLD_ID SERIES6..."

"..ERROR. Failed to Connect to WORLD_ID SERIES6. Continue Sign-Up Process and Retry?"

"Response Recorded. Continuing Sign-Up Process."

"Response Recorded. Aborting Connection to WORLD_ID SERIES6...Connection Aborted"

"...Sing-Up Process Completed. Initiating Log-In Sequence..."

"ERROR."

-----------

Yuuma sat by the river, waiting for something big to happen.

He knew he wasn't support to be there. Tour Guide hade explicitly told everyone to not get close to the Gate during new world maintenance, but being his curious self, he guiltlessly ignored the warning. Why? Because of the aforementioned new world, of course!

From what he knew about it -which wasn't much, but Juudai-senpai had been rambling about all the different Duelists, Decks and weird game mechanics that they might see for two weeks straight and that sort of gave him a general idea-, this new world thing was a pretty big deal in Duel Links, and with it being so covered up, Yuuma was all too hyped to see what it was like for himself, consequences be damned.

He'd tried world-switching to no avail, as he sebsequently found out that the game wasn't only staggering log-outs, it was also staggering travelling through Duel Worlds for however long he was stuck here. He'd tried asking everyone he knew about it over his D-Gazer too, but that didn't work, and neither did begging a sleepy Kaito to try and hack the game for more info..

..Which led back to him sitting by the river, kicking his legs back and forth as Emperor's Key swayed in the morning breeze, dangling from the string in his hand while he kept waiting, waiting, and waiting some more...

"Yuuma?"

"Eek!" The Xyz Duelist practically jumped five feet into the air upon hearing his name being called, thoughts racing in frantic circles as he turned to see someone approaching...then immediately relaxing when he realized exactly who that someone was.

"Three!"

Michael Arclight smiled, waving gently as he tottered to the river bank and sat down next to Yuuma, who sighed in relief at knowing he wasn't in grave trouble for getting caught near the Gate. The two traded greetings, then settled into silence as they gazed at the horizon, at the clear sky and rising sun of their Duel World's landscape. If it were him, Michael would be content with just staying like that and admiring the view, but the ball of excitement next to him wasn't about to share that sentiment anytime soon.

"Sooooooo..." Yuuma began "What are you gonna do today?"

"Hm? What do you mean?" His friend gave him a puzzled look, and Yuuma made a broad gesture with his arms in response, as if that was supposed to mean something.

"You know, about the, uh, the new world? Are you gonna visit that? Duel people there? I don't know what to expect from it to be honest, it's the first time for us and I'm reeaally excited and also curious and I can't wait to see what will happen...but we can't find out anything before the maintenance ends, and it looks like it's gonna take a while and I'm getting bored so, what are you gonna do?"

Michael hummed thoughtfully, glancing at his Duel Disk "Well, I was thinking of waiting until things settled down before doing anything about all of this. A game this big can get quite unstable with such a huge update, you know? That's why I came here anyway, and..." the pink-haired Duelist blushed faintly "..I may or may not have decided to ignore what Guide-san said about the Gate in the process. Please don't tell anyone I was here?"

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed." Yuuma said, mimicking a zipper sound as he ran two fingers along his lips for effect "No one will ever know of your super classified one-time incident of breaking the law...not that that law made sense anyway. I mean, COME ON..."

Michael giggled, listening as Yuuma launched into a full-on rant about how meaningless them 'closing' the Gate area was. He wasn't exactly wrong though; if it was about as dangerous as Guide said, surely there would be some obstacle or lock to stop people from getting too close, right? Surely she wouldn't just count on everyone to not be reckless enough to ignore her, right? Unless...

Unless the error she's dealing with here might cause serious backlash if she tried inputting a new command that also interacts with the Gate, in which case-

Any other thought that would have followed that trail instantly vanished when the Gate suddenly exploded with blue light, and in that moment, Michael's world went quiet.

-----------

"Unacceptable! This is unacceptable! I have a fucking job interview in two hours, how am I supposed to get ready in time for that??"

Yuusei sighed, running a hand through his already mussed hair for what was probably the eighth time in thirty minutes. Tour Guide's sudden announcement of an emergency maintenace -one that somehow overlapped with the new world's- had put everyone on edge, even more so after they found out they couldn't log out until it was over. As a result, every single Duelist currently in the 5D's World had gathered at the Deck Editor and unanimously decided to wait out the maintenance period there...but some of them weren't particularly happy about being stuck in the game for however long it took.

Chief of those was Jack, who kept pacing next to the table Team 5D's and co. clustered around, all while throwing several uncharitable insults at Guide, Isono, Kaiba, and basically everyone affliated with the Duel Links staff.

"Why do they have to keep messing up every time they launch one of those new words?? I swear, if I see any of those little-"

Carly instinctively covered her ears when the Resonator Duelist let out a particularly nasty swear, and Crow shot him a miffed glare from behind. Yuusei sighed again, then slowly pushed himself out from his chair to rest a hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Jack, please go get a cup of coffee and cool down." He said in an uncharacteristically pleading, tired tone "We're all stuck here, we all have important things to do, and some of us haven't slept for twenty-six hours. It'd do everyone a lot of good if you stopped yelling at empty air for a while."

Jack crossed his arms and huffed, but forced himself to simmer down regardless.

"...Fine. I'll go get myself some coffee and 'cool down' or whatever, but not because you asked me to, it's because I need some fresh air." And with that, the former King of Duels strode out of the Studio, coat flapping dramatically in a gust of wind before he went completely out of view.

"Good riddance." Crow let his head drop on the table with a low thud, raising a thumbs-up in Yuusei's general direction, and while he normally wouldn't agree with that sentiment, the Synchro Duelist was currently grateful for the calmer atmosphere of the place, now that Jack was gone. He slid back into his chair, hoping to get some shut-eye to compensate for staying up for all of the night before...

"Guys, we have a problem."

...Or not. Yuusei looked up in time to see Bruno -No, stop it, that's Antinomy- dropping in the chair between him and a barely conscious Kiryuu, the computer in his hands flashing with several warning signs overlapping on top of strings of code, which kept appearing and disappearing at a seemingly random pace. This, the noiret decidedly thought, peering intently at the screen, definitely doesn't look good.

"The energy output is spiking around the Gate area and the ones close to it." Antinomy explained to no-one in particular, his usually passive face set in a stressed frown as he clicked away at the keyboard "It appears that whatever issue that caused this emergency maintenance has gone completely out of control, and while we don't know exactly what that means, compressing so much energy in a certain area, no matter how broad..."

"...is bound to make it blow up." Yuusei concluded, eyes widening as his mind caught up with the implication behind that "This means the Duel Studio and everyone in it will be affected if anything happens to the Gate."

Antinomy nodded "Exactly. It could be that someone is trying to log in, and that's why I'm asking you to go and- dammit!" He swore, fingers moving across the keyboard at a far more frantic pace when the computer let out a series of long, loud beeping sound. Yuusei was pretty sure he got whiplash from how fast he turned to see what was going on-

-but before he could register more than the word "ERROR" bolded in blue across the screen, he felt a shock of static, and then...nothing.

-----------

"Automated Reboot Successful. Log-In Sequence...Complete."

"Connecting to WORLD_ID SERIES2...Connection Successful."

"Linking with.."

"..Sakaki Yuuya."

-----------

The first thing he felt when he came to was a gentle breeze tousling his hair, rays of sunshine lighting up his eyelids, and droplets of water spraying his face every couple seconds. It wasn't raining, that much he gathered, which meant that he'd most likely spawned near a fountain or a river, since there was no trace of the salty scent of seawater in the air.

Yuuya opened his eyes. Sure enough, there was a fountain to his left, its marble structure adorned with a ring of green leaves that carried all kinds of colourful flowers, water flowing from it center and from the sides. Pushing himself up, the tomato-haired Duelist looked around, taking in the rest of his current surroundings, and the first thing that caught his attention was a huge, round portal thingy that hovered in the air, with glowing lines of blue circuitry running through its silvery white perimeter.

That must be the Gate, he thought that's how I came here.

A bit further ahead was what seemed to be another portal, but this one was rectangular in shape, unlike the Gate's circle, and it was completely blue as well. Yuuya watched as the portal rotated in place slowly, the other side of it coming into view with the label 'Duel School' appearing on top of it. Curious, he reached out a hand to touch the portal...

...only to pull back immediately when the pixels forming it fizzled and crackled with electricity, shocking him.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!!" Yuuya clutched his stung hand with the other, hissing in pain at the contact before letting go of his hand. He sucked in deep breath then slowly exhaled, wiping the tears that formed at the corners of his eyes before turning away from the Duel School to keep walking (and to will away the sick, fleeting memory the shock had sparked for a moment).

Yeesh, that wasn't a great first interaction... he grimaced, waving his hand in the air in hopes that it would calm the stinging pain down But that doesn't mean I can't find something good if I keep looking. I wonder where all the other Duelists are.

The path he was walking down split into two at the end. Yuuya turned around, chancing one more look at the admittedly beautiful yet strangely desloate area he started in. He chalked its emptiness up to it being quite early in the morning...but then again, it wasn't morning for everyone around the world, so maybe it was just that the area was mainly used as a terminal, which would explain why he was the only one there...

Wait.

He shouldn't be.

Switching his Duel Disk on with a quick swipe (which was an honestly stupid action in hindsight because damn his hand stung hard from that), Yuuya dialed the very first contact on his list, running the hand with the Disk strapped to it through bi-colored bangs and pushing them out of his face as the device rang once, twice, three times. Where was everyone else? He, Yuzu and Gongenzaka had logged in at the same time, and Sora had told them he'll jump in right after, so why was he the only one to come out of the Gate?

*Din-di-di-din, din-ding...Din-di-di-din, din-ding...Din-di-di-din-*

"Hello."

Yuuya blinked, then did a double take at the soft, young voice that came from the other end of the call. That...that wasn't Yuzu. He swallowed.

"..I'm sorry, who am I talking to?"

A few moments passed before the voice replied "My name is Sera. You must not recognize me, but please don't worry, the owner of this device is safe and sound, and if you wish to talk to her, she is here with me."

The line went silent then. Well, almost silent; Yuuya could hear bits of chatter and the sound of someone fiddling with the Duel Disk...before said someone decided to blast his eardrums full-force, like she always did.

"Yuuya! Where the heck are you?!" Yuzu cried out, and he found himself smiling at the familiar loudness "I've been looking for you everywhere!!"

He winced when her voice cracked on the last word, hand running through his hair again as he laughed nervously "Sorry, sorry! I...honestly don't entirely know where I am yet. Thought we'd start at the same place, but I guess we didn't..." He glanced around for any sort of landmark to pinpoint his position, then remembered where he came from at first and settled on that "Um, can you see the Gate? I'm standing close to it."

There was a beat of silence, then an audible sigh. "I see," Sera muttered at length "Sakaki-san, I think you have logged into a different Duel World than the one Hiiragi-san and I are in at the moment..because we're standing right in front of the Gate."

It took a full ten seconds for Yuuya's brain to register that, and when it did, all that came out of his mouth was a drawn-out "Whaaaaaaat??"

"...You skipped the rest of the tutorial, didn't you?" Yuzu's voice carried a hint of amusement and fondness, before assuming a more serious tone "Okay, look. If you check your Duel Disk, you'll find two arrows in a circle at the top left corner. Click that, and you'll get a list of the five different Duel Worlds in the game. Sera said that something happened before we came here that stopped everyone from travelling between those worlds, and apparently there was a sixth world that we were supposed to log into but didn't...anyway, the highlighted name will show you the world you're in. I'm in the fourth one right now..."

Yuuya listened as Yuzu explained what happened to her after logging into the Duel World, following her instructions all the while. A quick check told him that he was in the second world, the one labeled 'Duel World Series 2'. He nodded along his friends' words, and when she finished, he took yet another look at his surroundings.

"Alright, gotcha, I'm in the second world." He said, and it was then that he decided to head left "I guess I'll go take a look around the place, see if I can find out where everyone else is, and wait until we can all switch to the same world. It's great to hear you're alright, Yuzu. Take care!"

"Hey, that's my line!" She quipped in response, and Yuuya could practically hear the playful grin on her face "But seriously, I'm glad to know you're doing fine too. See you later, Yuuya."

And with that, the line went dead. Not even bothering to turn his Disk off, Yuuya broke into a quick jog, humming a cheerful tune to himself and grinning widely as he started rhyming the tune to his steps. Yuzu was fine, she was okay, they'll find each other soon enough and meet up with their friends, and they'll have tons of fun exploring the game, just as they planned.

Yeah, that's the spirit!

He only slowed down when the smooth, metallic path turned into dirt, patches of grass growing randomly in the way and on the sides, as well as a pair of trees and a few stray daisy bushes. A huge structure that felt so very out of place loomed ahead of him, its futuristic design and neon blue lines contrasting sharply with the simple greenery surrounding it, despite only being separated from that by a ring of gray tiles at the end of the dirt path. Upon closer inspection, there appeared to be a floating label above it that spelled out the words "Duel Studio", and a sliding door that opened on its own when Yuuya came close. The Pendulum Duelist stepped through-

"Ack!"

-and promptly crashed into a blur of black, stumbling backwards as a result. Leaning on the now-open door for support, Yuuya nursed his head with his free hand, letting out a small sigh before he looked up to check on whoever it was that he bumped into...and froze when he locked eyes with them.

That shade of gold was...familiar.

Yuuya's eyes widened, and the brunette facing him mirrored the action for a split second, before his shock faded into a passive scowl that clashed with his fluffy, Kuriboh-like hair. Yuuya opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't sure exactly what, but the taller male turned back to the Duel Studio, subtly motioning for him to come along, and whatever it was that he wanted to say went out of the window.

"Follow me." His voice -slow, deep and clear- carried a distinctly authoritative tone as he strode ahead, and after a moment of apprehension, Yuuya found himself trailing behind. The guy looked like he knew where he was going, and didn't exactly seem opposed to talking to him, which meant he could possibly get some answers to the pile of questions building up in his head, and well, weird gut feelings aside, that was actually a good thing.

The two sat at a round, red table in a distant corner, and then just...stared at each other. Yuuya waited for the Kuriboh-haired Duelist -at least, he guessed he was a Duelist, judging by the strange custom model of a Duel Disk on his left arm- to say something, anything, but nothing came out, and he wasn't sure exactly how to start the conversation, so...he kept waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And then decided that was enough waiting. "Umm...are you even gonna say anything?" Yuuya asked after a full four minutes, half expecting to get no response..

..but the guy actually rolled his eyes at him, like he'd asked a stupid question or something "What are you expecting me to say?"

Huh. Okay, this man was kinda bad at conversing. Yuuya held back a sigh, plastered on a smile instead, and tried again.

"Hmm, how about an introduction? That sounds like a good start." He held out a hand "Nice to meet you, I'm Sakaki Yuuya. And you are..?"

The brunette's stared moved to Yuuya's outstretched hand, then back to his eyes...and then he sighed, holding his own hand to his temples as he mumbled something in a foreign language Yuuya couldn't make out (but assumed was an exasperated statement, based on the tone of what came next).

"Dear Lord, why is it that every single one of them turns out to be a child?"

"Huh?"

"You can see Duel Spirits," He said, pointing at Yuuya. It wasn't even a question, just a factual statement he threw as casually as someone discussing the weather forecast "and you most likely have a special bond with at least one of your cards, that may even go as far as your very soul being bound to it. Is that correct?"

A few moments passed in silence, and then: "How did you-"

"I knew that was the case. Listen to me, Sakaki Yuuya; I do not know the exact extent of your knowledge about the nature of this world, or that of the darkness you possess, but know this-" gold eyes narrowed dangerously, and Yuuya flinched in spite of himself "Duel Links is not just a game. There are greater forces behind the creation of the Duel Worlds, ones that can tamper with your memories and thoughts, even call back beings that were supposed to be gone forever and link different dimensioms. Your status as a Legendary Duelist means you are directly involved in everything that might happen in the new world, so proceed with caution, or prepare to deal with the consequences."

Yuuya reeled back in his chair, face going white. He stared down at his pendulum, gripping its dimly glowing crystal tightly in his hands -had it been doing that for a while? He had no idea. His head was starting to feel light, his throat got all choked up, and he was sure he'd be shaking if not for how tense his muscles were. What- what had he gotten himself into? If he'd known it was more than a game, if he'd known they'd be thrown in the middle of crossfire again-

Deep breaths, Yuuya, deep breaths.. He told himself before he got too lost in thought, inhaling sharply. Calm down, let it out slowly, relax.....yeah, there we go.

"Why are you telling me this?" The teen asked once he was certain his mini-panic attack was over, and he must've been imagining things because he could swear he saw a ghost of a smile on the other's face when he replied.

"In all honesty," he began slowly, the edge to his voice almost completely gone "I have had enough interdimensional conflict to last me a lifetime, and I would really rather not deal with any more of it if I can. I assume you understand where I'm coming from here?"

Yuuya hummed absently, and that seemed to be a satisfying answer to the brown-haired Duelist, who pushed himself out of his seat and turned to leave, but not without allowing himself another final sentence.

"Very well then. For your own sake, as well as everyone you may care about, I hope you're actually smart enough to follow my warning. Until we meet again...or not."

And with that, he walked away, disappearing behind the staircase to the right. As soon as he went out of sight, Yuuya let his head fall down on the table with an unceremonious flump!, making some inchoerent noises when the sound of some lady announcing the end of the 'Maintenance Break' blasted over the intercom above his head, and he became distantly aware of other voices and some footsteps sounding not too far from him.

*tap*

Alright, so he and everyone else have basically jumped into yet another grand scheme that caused conflict across different dimensions, but this time the stakes weren't as clear as in the Interdimensional War.

*tap-tap*

The thought was admittedly daunting, and he was a hundred percent sure no-one he knew would like to go through something like that again..

"Oi."

But on the bright side, it seemed that they weren't the only ones dealing with this sort of thing, which meant they could easily find many allies in the different Duel Worlds...yeah, if they kept an eye out, they should be all right-

"Oi!"

Yuuya's head snapped up when he realized someone was calling out to him, and when he looked up, he was greeted with the smiling face of..

"You again??"

..the same Kuriboh-haired Duelist?

"Sorry, what?"

Yuuya did a double take. Yeah, no, that wasn't him; the eyes were colored soft brown instead of hollow gold, and he was wearing a red jacket instead of a black robe too- Yuuya mentally scolded himself for overlooking the differences (but also found it somewhat funny because, you know, he had to deal with this kind of confusion more than once before).

"Nevermind, I think I confused you for someone else. My bad." He gave the red-jacketed brunette a sheepish grin, gesturing at the empty chair opposite to his, then watching as he placed his also strange custom model of a Duel Disk on the side of the table before sitting down himself, fiddling with the device all the while. Even the way he composed himself was different; this guy felt far more lax and chill compared to the other one, and it made Yuuya relax a bit in turn, the silence that stretched between them feeling more comfortable.

"So, let me guess..." Red Jacket began a bit later, leaning a bit forward with a curious glint in his eyes "You're one of the new kids?"

A small nod "You can say that, I guess. I'm Yuuya, and you?"

"Yuuki Juudai. Pleased to meet you, kiddo- wait, I can call you kiddo, right?"

"Sure, unless you're somehow younger than me, which I doubt because of the..height difference."

Juudai smiled again "Aight, kiddo it is then. I gotta say though, I'm impressed you managed to switch worlds that fast. Took me a whole week to realize that was even a thing."

He laughed, and Yuuya chuckled with him. "Actually.." he said afterwards, rubbing the back of his neck with a small, bashful smile "A friend told me about it, and I couldn't even use it when I first arrived. Something about an error happening with the new world and shutting down the whole game, I think? Yean, that locked out the switch thing for a while, and it stopped everyone from logging out too."

"Woah, for real?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Damn," Juudai slammed a hand down on the table "you sure had one heck of a first day, kiddo. Guide must be freaking out with all of this going on."

Yuuya blinked, confused "Guide?"

"Oh, you don't know her?" The older teen asked, quirking an eyebrow "She's, ah, the Duel Spirit of Tour Guide From the Underworld. Pretty much the one who manages this place, since the actual owner doesn't give a shit about the shenanigans happening around here, and she also runs the Duel School. You can go hit her up if you have any questions about the game; she's a great help for new players."

"A Duel Spirit..." Yuuya echoed quietly, stare moving down to the Deck slot of his Duel Disk. He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked up at Juudai and asked "So anyone can interact with them here? The spirits, I mean."

"Of course! It's part of the game's charm, y'know?" He answered, throwing a wink at Yuuya before continuing "Being able to hang out with all your monster friends, even if you might not see them in real life..I don't think anyone would pass up on something that cool."

The younger Duelist smiled at that, hand subconsciously touching the top of his Deck, which earned him several happy murmurs and a particularly loud roar as well "Yeah, that does sound pretty cool. I gotta try it sometime later."

"You totally should." Juudai agreed, taking out his own Deck and shuffling through it as he added "In the meantime...would you like a good ol' tabletop Duel? My old-ass relic of a Disk is being particularly laggy today, and I heard you had this cool summon mechanic with the backrow zones- what was it called again? Pendant? Pending?"

"It's Pendulum Summoning." Yuuya clarified, tentatively taking his Deck out of its slot when Juudai did the same "And uh, sure, I can show it to you if you want."

The brunette's smile turned into a wide grin as he whipped out a pair of folded game mats from his pocket and placed them on his and Yuuya's side of the table, putting each of their Decks on the far right before punching a fist in the air "Heck yeah! I'm finally the first to Duel the new kid with the new cards, this is gonna be a lot of fun!"

"Definitely!" He nodded, his own smile widening as he drew his starting hand with a little more flourish than necessary for a tabletop Duel- not that he really cared, what mattered at the moment was that, even if he was going to have to fight again later down the line, he was going to enjoy Dueling to the maximum as long as he could. No use worrying about the future, all he came here to do was have fun, and fun was he going to have.

Watch out, Duel Links, here I come..!

"LET'S DUEL!!"

~~~~~~~

THE END, finally. This, for whatever reason, took me three weeks to finish alongside the other prompts (okay actually Yuuya's POV slipped from me and I barely managed to end it where I did), and I couldn't even make it on time ffs. There goes my plans to deliver all chapters on time...but I at least hope you enjoyed reading. ...Oh yeah, you may have noticed by now that I left some loose ends here and there (like the conclusion of the chapter for the residents of Duel Worlds ZEXAL and 5D's, AKA those poor souls who got a mass reboot error and received no answers as to why), and to that I say...nothing. Yeah, you gotta wait a little while longer to see what happened to them after the reboot. That said, I shall now take my leave and return to the land of Ao3, see y'all on...someday by the end of the month, I guess.

#gxmonth2021 #yugioh gx #yugioh zexal #yugioh 5ds #yugioh arc v #too many characters to tag

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