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sapphicwhxre · 3 years

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ASTERIA'S 2.5K FOLLOWER FIC REC LIST

i read fics just as much as i write them so here are some of my favourites. tysmsm for this milestone, i love you all <3 quick note: i didn't re-tag anyone if i recommended more than one of your works because of the tag limit.

───────── girls ─────────

hermione granger

tuesdays - @stupxfy

probably one of my all time favs for hermione. it's just so well written and adorable and fluffy and yes.

if i could tell her - @hellounicorn

pining, pining, PINING. the way these emotions and hermione's described is just... art. perfection. there's a happy ending and it is so worth the build up.

darling dearest - @dracolvr

fluffy goodness. read to be hopelessly in love with hermione ─ which, let's be real, we all are.

november rain - @pansydaisy

uhm i love this one sm. it's so simple but amazing ─ everyone has their days like this and having hermione to cure them? it's what everyone needs.

i need more - @15-dogs

i sobbed the first time i read this. it'll break your heart but it's so amazingly written that it's worth the sadness. actual gut wrenching / mindblowing writing.

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

the title. need i say more?

honeyed eyes - @minty-malfoy

HEAVEN. being hermione's first kiss as friend? but both of you idiots liking each other? oh my god, sign me up.

hugging her from behind - @pastanest

again, the title. read to feel 🥺💙

grey days - @pepperimps01

PANSMIONE 😌😌 it's angsty with a happy ending and i love it sm. this does such a perfect job of capturing pansy and hermione's relationship growing and having its ups and downs with just a few paragraphs. honestly so good

grenade - @hellounicorn

another one that'll make your heart shatter. but in the best way. these are the fics i live for where the you can't help but feel like it's really happening to you and hermione and god it's so fucking powerful. underrated writing right here in general. and also pansmione is the loml so it hurts in that way.

honeybees - @pansydaisy

fluffy aesthetic heaven.

lead the way - @teacup-tai

more pansmione but this is pure filthy thinking and satisfies all the sexual tension dreams pansmione shippers have.

two queens in a king sized bed - @shysneeze

domestic christmas morning with hermione and it's angelic.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

one of those blurbs i never imagined i'd read or love so much. not to mention it's spot on and adorable.

pansy parkinson

right and wrong - @starrkidmalfoy

a first kiss and the overdone trope that i will never get sick of, the bitch who's soft only for you. the descriptions in this are perfection and the writing is beautiful <3

messed up - @writseo

toxic, messed up love fics will be the death of me. insane how well you captured it all and i just yes damn fucking props.

pansy parkinson imagine - @moonlight-imagines

*screams* THE BEST FRIEND BANTER + THE ENDING OH MY GOD OH MY GOD ─ I SCREAMED WHEN I FIRST READ THIS. I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE IT.

dating pansy would include - @lotsoffandomimagines

ABSOLUTE POWER COUPLE SHIT and to this day, pansy saying "jealous much?" when being scolded for pda remains iconic.

grey days - @pepperimps01

as i said before: PANSMIONE 😌😌 it's angsty with a happy ending and i love it sm. this does such a perfect job of capturing pansy and hermione's relationship growing and having its ups and downs with just a few paragraphs. honestly so good

new rules - @silversslytherin

excuse me this is immaculate ─ pansy is the best friend and the second you see that she's also the best s/o, you're done for. perfection.

study "dates" - @turning-dreams-into-chaos

the title is self explanatory and this whole thing is fluffy heaven <3

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

read the title, thank me later.

lead the way - @teacup-tai

more pansmione but this is pure filthy thinking and satisfies all the sexual tension dreams pansmione shippers have.

traitor - @hufflepuff-writings

a masterpiece where pansy chooses the wrong side in the battle of hogwarts. this ties up so well and the writing is so powerful.

back alley love potions - @a-simple-imagine

this actually hurts but in a beautiful way. watching pansy give draco a love potion is such a fucking concept and this is executed incredibly.

my little bunny - @emmamarie7708

pansy making you do this is so dirty yet she's slightly sweet and i am a sucker for it. god is a woman and her name is pansy fucking parkinson.

pansy parkinson imagine - @moonlight-imagines

i'll let pansy beat people up for me all day. they put me in madame pomfrey's, feel my girlfriend's wrath.

ginny weasley

blissful - @enyastasia

fluffy ginny goodness. the friends to lovers? the amazing kiss? 🥺🥺🥺💞💞 this fic lives in my heart <3

bubble pop electric - @hunnypot-imagines

this is hotter than a lot of actual smut and the chemistry is so... wow. ginny weasley owns me.

dear ginny - @alyssamalfoy

how does this short ass letter manage to make me feel so much. it's sorcery but i don't even care, it's beautiful.

wildflower - @pansydaisy

will i ever get tired of cheeky i love yous? not when loves like ginny weasley and ayli's so so pretty writing exist.

all i want - @hellounicorn

ouch. fuck you harry :) quite possibly the best ginny fic i have ever read. insanely talented writing, i genuinely feel every touch of emotion you put down and you need to know how amazing that is. keep breaking my heart.

linny hcs - @bluebirdlinginthenest

who doesn't need good linny content in their life?

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

sexy bitch, fuck me up.

willow - @padmeamiala

ginny is the loml. her brothers can cry about it.

bellatrix lestrange

attempting to bake with bellatrix - @carters-coffee

MY FAVOURITE BELLA FIC ─ there's not enough bellatrix fluff out there but this makes up for the lack of. heaven.

bellatrix prompt - @carters-coffee

this gives me chills. she knows she's a bad bitch and that's what we love about her.

change of plans - @dumb-sbian

why THE FUCK have i not had a rainy morning with bellatrix? she can sleep and mumble something just like this and i'm still head over heels for her.

being tortured as bellatrix's girlfriend - @writings-of-a-british-fangirl

definitely a concept BUT this makes me feel some type of way and i recommend giving it a minute of your time 😌

bellatrix finding out you're a muggleborn - @carters-coffee

the beauty, the nuance omg. this is art.

bellatrix prompt - @carters-coffee

yep jealous bella. trust me, im all yours mommy <3

sex with bellatrix would include - @onegayastronaut

so short but... sign. me. up.

luna lovegood

never leave - @/deactivated

luna smut is hard asf to come by and this is my favourite. it's so luna and the pain over her not knowing, not getting that closure about how you feel until this is an amazing rollercoaster.

she - @hunnypot-imagines

the beauty of falling in love with luna, through this majorly talented writing. ten out of fucking ten. i will not elaborate but there's also majorly good association in this imo.

silver berries and flickering fireflies - @duskgrangers

i love this fic so much. she's so herself and that is why we ✨ simp ✨ and the scene set just sounds so prettyy

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

luna + this title? yes please, ma'am i am simping.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

put me in your pocket luna. im begging you.

dancing in the rain with luna - @/deactivated

only luna would get you a dress to go dancing in the rain and this is the stuff of blissful, fluffy dreams.

hugging her from behind - @pastanest

short and cute, do me a favour and read it :)

dating luna lovegood would go like - @glossymalfoy

life is NOT worth it if you don't read these cute little headcanons and imagine dating ravenclaw's baddest bitch.

linny hc - @bluebirdlinginthenest

like i said, who doesn't need good linny content?

cho chang

strawberry kisses - @pansydaisy

the only cho fic i've been able to find and it's SO WORTH IT. the cutest, it flows so well, and i absolutely love it. i need this with cho tbh.

fleur delacour

toutes les etoiles - @coffee--writes

im in love with fleur and this amazing writing. and for the first time since i started high school, my three years of taking french feel good for something.

being best friends with fleur would include - @harrypotter-imaginess

not romantic but actually so sweet pls. i want this friendship in my life so bad.

nymphadora tonks

dating nymphadora tonks would include - @imaginesforgirls

dating her + that warm little feeling of bliss that only HCs can give you

taking care of her after the war - @random-imagines-blog

this kind of hurts in that good ass way and i lovee it. they're simple hcs but i feel for tonks so much and then there's that warm lil feeling when you're the one to put her back together aand now my primary life goal is to help this woman heal.

───────── boys ─────────

harry potter

phosphenes - @minty-malfoy

ok shakespeare, the fuck?? this fic will never not get me right in the heart. the angst, holy fuck. and for once, the reader doesn't hurt harry and let draco walk all over them and it's just done so well. the transition from a toxic relationship to a sweet, loving one PLEASE. it's beautiful.

happy memories - @15-dogs

how does this manage to be so. smutty and fluffy at the same time? this is one of those short ones that has lived in my head, rent-free since i read it. and tbh any fic that includes expecto patronum is guaranteed to be good.

come back to me - @wondernimbus

right from the beginning, it's a mess of emotions both good and bad. that kind of good ass writing that hits you in the heart <3

making out with harry potter would include - @badfvith

read this title. done? now thank me later.

harry prompt - @thoseofgreatambition

harry x a sarcastic swooning bitch is an elite trope idc. short and sweet, i'm marrying this fic.

keep your eyes on the prize - @rowema-ravenclaw

first of all, showing harry up and second, pure fluff (and a little steam) right after. i also love how she writes harry in general because he's totally safe/in love with the relationship but still has that awkward lovable shyness and i just... *sighs*

always - @pansydaisy

uhm i will always love him and always reread this a thousand times so its a fit title + a good read.

late night studying - @lumosandnoxwriting

fuck studying, let his hand stay in my shirt. once again recommending fluffy bliss in the form of a short read that makes me feel things <3

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

he's so stupid. but he still loves you + this is from our resident perfectly talented writer so its a win.

cuddling after a rough quidditch practice - @badfvith

harry james potter is : b a b y

gryffindor's victory - @rowema-ravenclaw

make me gryffindors fucking cheerleader because HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT. AND THE WRITING IS IMMACULATE PLEASE. just read it, you won't regret it.

draco malfoy

silent treatment - @slytherinwh0re

andy's mad talented and this is just... insert a cheesy chefs kiss. unbelievably adorable but so fucking hot and an actually good smut plot (which is rare lmfao). remind me to give draco the silent treatment every time im upset.

rewards - @malfoysstilinski

so hot PLS. hype him up for the match and get your reward, bye. so good.

reading between the lines - @minty-malfoy

i've said this a thousand times but that's what happens when you've got a mad talented mutual BLESSING everyone with beauty like this. butterflies and warm feelings all around when i read this 💓

point of view - @draconisxcaput

its angst for hermione and fluff for you but overall ethereal writing. i am never going to recover from the pure talent that this is.

im not kidding im dying - @malfoysmatrioshka

i hate being sick with a passion but this... this would make it worth it.

hogwarts express - @/deactivated

draco fucking you because he knows harry's watching. the shit of legends and god is it hot.

draco laughing at you because you can't walk after sex - @glossymalfoy

*motions to the title* fluff with this loser 😌

the cheeseburger - @slytherinwh0re

really short read but this is one of those things i just. didn't know i needed. you're missing out and haven't even realised it if you haven't read about introducing him to cheeseburgers. and that ending is so funny/in character to me i fucking love it.

four am - @malfoysstilinski

domestic draco 🥺 but also sad draco 🥺 and then fluffy draco 🥺

hugging him from behind - @pastanest

real short and it'll brighten your day <3

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

how is it that this is so stupidly adorable. i love it 💘

ron weasley

heather - @hellounicorn

always making me cry with your fics i swearrr. this is a must-read. having someone but them not really being yours is a beautiful trope and this fic absolutely does it wonderful, poetic justice. your angst is addicting.

apple pie - @pregnant-piggy

ABSOLUTE DOMESTIC BLISS I AM IN LOVE. i don't even like kids or baking that much but this made me so soft. the whole cozy, heavenly vibes from this fic yes yes yes.

jealousy - @writeroutoftime

cliché jealousy turns friends to lovers and i am a sucker for it all over again <3

shaking and trembling - @ronsbadidea

if ron doesn't finger fuck me and then make a cheeky comment about it in class later then WHAT IS THE POINT :(

mixed signals - @iamthecabbage

i've always figured ron is this awkward idiot cutie with a crush and yea, this is it.

fred and george weasley

i love you, but you don't - @george-fabian-weasley

fred's a character i really don't read for often but goddamn. it's the saddest, most beautiful mix of rejection and pain and fred desperately caring but not in the way you want him to ─ an angsty masterpiece.

cockwarming george - @roonilwazlibimagines

because of this filthy gem, i one hundred thousand percent believe that he could make me cum without even fucking me and this is just... it's a good fucking read.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

their responses are so wonderfully chaotic and adorable and GOD you're missing out if you haven't read these lil blurbs.

─

#harry potter x reader #hermione granger x reader #pansy parkinson x reader #luna lovegood x reader #ginny weasley x reader #draco malfoy x reader #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #cho chang x reader #nymphadora tonks x reader #bellatrix lestrange x reader #ron weasley x reader #fleur delacour x reader #harry potter #fic recs #masterlist #smut #fluff #angst

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mlm-writer · 3 years

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Hero of the Swamp (Shrek x Jaskier)

Edit by me

Pairing: Shrek x Netflix!Jaskier (Julian Alfred Pankratz/Dandelion) Rating: Explicit Words: 2893 POV: Third Summary: After being left on the mountain, Jaskier finds himself lost in the swamp and in need of warmth and comfort. Note: Y’all can thank @spielzeugkaiser and their amazing art for this. Sorry for the sloppy edit, but I really was not going to put even more time into this sinful work. Tags: I’ve been a bad boy daddy forgive me father fore I have sinned, pre-movies Shrek, post-mountain Jaskier, angst, fluff, Shrek’s huge dong, size kink, cum shower, monster cock, blowjobs, rimming, cum eating and Shrek has emotions ok

The growls of monsters lurking in the forest rolled over the muddy forest grounds and reached Jaskier’s icy ears. He shivered in both terror and response to the temperature. He told himself he could get off that mountain on his own, but who was he kidding? His frigid ears caught something in the dark. The bard bolted off the path, then later found himself in the middle of nowhere, chilled to the bone, disoriented, and, to be honest, frightened.

He was looking for a path, but even that seemed to not be present anywhere in the vicinity. Jaskier rubbed his trembling hands together and walked on. Jaskier thought he should at last find some shelter from the wind. Just as he was about to settle for a random tree, he noticed light in the distance, warm like fire, inviting him and promising warmth and shelter.

The fatigued bard all but ran towards it, the signs around the perimeter unnoticed in the dark. His boots sunk into the mud of the swamp, but he had his eyes set on the house-like structure in the middle of the swamp. He could not believe anyone wanted to live in this stinky place, but right now this someone was about to be his saviour. Once at what he assumed to be the door, he knocked on it. When there was no answer he knocked again. There were some angry, heavy footsteps, before the door opened.

Before him stood a massive humanoid, skin green like peas, frame built like Geralt who preferred cake over his nasty potions. “Eh, good evening, sir,” Jaskier tried. If it was living in a house, it must be intelligent to some extent… right? “Could you please spare some place for a weary traveller?” The green creature did not look nice, even without its facial expressions. Some tension left its body after the question. Jaskier recognised it as a hint of confusion. “I’m afraid I’ll freeze to death if I don’t warm myself by a fire.”

“No, get out of my swamp,” the creature spoke. It sounded like it was from Skellige. It was about to retreat into its home, but Jaskier put his foot between the door.

“Please, I’ll die out here,” he spoke dramatically, hoping for pity so he’d have a roof over his head tonight. He was not sure if he should try his luck with this creature, but at least it could speak. Wraiths had said less words, before trying to slice him.

“Not my problem. Get out of my swamp. The only way you get close to my fire is when I roast you over it.” “Oh please, you don’t mean that.”

Jaskier had barely finished speaking, when the green man grabbed him by his doublet and pulled him close. His breath stank of swamp water and fish. His mouth was wide and Jaskier was pretty sure he would fit inside there. The bard felt like he should be terrified, but underneath a thin layer of leather and cloth, there was warmth radiating off pear skin. He wanted to lean into it, thaw. What inhibited his survival skills further, where those eyes glaring into his. Under bushy eyebrows rested two brown pools of warm broth. He heard the green man roar into his face that he needed to leave, because he was an ogre and he was going to eat him, but it was hard to believe him.

Within those eyes that were so close to his, the ogre told the story of a creature that wanted to be alone, because alone was safe, alone was comfortable, alone was all he was used to. Jaskier never knew that, but after today, he understood why one would think that.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.”

It stung, more than anything had caused him to ache in ages. Jaskier could feel the urge to never make friends again, never love again, never lust after one he could not have. However, he refused. It was pain that made life worth living. Without pain, bliss did not feel as good as it did. The rain made sunlight so much more appreciated. The cold made fire so much more precious. The monsters made the witcher so much more valuable.

The human knew this, but the ogre holding him up by his doublet did not. Jaskier had wished for pity, but he pitied the other now. He clumsily threw his arms around the ogre and hugged him tightly. The ogre stopped yelling at him. Jaskier could feel the muscles against his body tensing up. The hand holding him loosened and he threw his legs around the ogre too, holding on and hugging him tightly. “You don’t have to be alone. I don’t fear you,” Jaskier spoke gently.

“I am an ogre.” “And if you were really malicious I would not still be breathing. Please, just for one night. There are all sorts of dangers out in these swamps, especially at night. I just want to stay alive.”

Jaskier could hear the ogre letting out a long sigh. “Fine,” he spoke, “but you have to be gone tomorrow.” Jaskier let him go, but not after planting a delighted kiss on the rough skin of the ogre’s cheek.

“Thank you so much,” the bard exclaimed. He slipped inside, before the ogre could change his mind. The inside of the hollowed out tree looked cozy. It stank like hell, but he was in the middle of the swamp; what did he expect? “Do you like music? I have little to give you, but I am a bard.” Jaskier held up his lute as he grabbed the chair that had no food in front of it. One look at the giant slug on a plate and he was pretty sure he did not want to have any food. Jaskier pulled the chair a little closer to the fire and sat down with his lute in his lap. It seemed rather strange that there were two hand-crafted chairs, while the ogre seemed to be so keen on being alone. “Oh and you can call me Jaskier, by the by. What may I call you, my hero from the swamp?”

The ogre looked at him a little annoyed as he closed the door and sat back down to finish his dinner. “Uh… Shrek. You can play, but don’t sing.” Jaskier let the name roll off his tongue, before playing a calming tune. He didn’t speak, just let his fingers do their thing as he processed all that happened during the day, well it was actually more just those few minutes that haunted his mind. Each one of Geralt’s words cutting into his soul. “Eh… Jaskier?” Jaskier was pulled from his thoughts when Shrek spoke his name. He shook his head, before looking at Shrek. “You don't seem to be… you… you seem sad, well, what I mean is… I never heard such a depressing tune.”

Jaskier faked a smile. “My apologies, good sir. I’ll play you a happier tune, if you wish.” He diverted his eyes to the fingerboard, blinking away the tears he suddenly noticed pooling in his eyes.

“No, you don’t have to. I prefer silence, anyway.” Jaskier looked up and noticed Shrek had finished eating. He stood up and started cleaning up. “You can sleep on my good chair.” Jaskier followed the ogre’s gaze to the fauteuil in the corner. He nodded. It looked comfortable enough. He had slept on forest floors with Geralt. This was more luxury than a regular day with the witcher.

Shrek had some board and card games, which he seemed to enjoy to play. Jaskier wondered if Shrek usually played these games on his own or if he hosted guests more often. Neither seemed likely, since the games seemed to have gone untouched for at least a decade, if not longer. They shared a few laughs. Shrek turned out to be more fun company than Jaskier would ever have expected from an ogre. His jokes were terrible and sometimes a little insensitive, but he so clearly meant well. It was clear Shrek was not used to talking or any social interactions. He spoke like a young man still trying to figure out what was socially acceptable to say and what was not. Still, he was trying and Jaskier welcomes the vivid chatting.

When they got tired, Jaskier curled up on the comfortable fauteuil by the fire. Shrek had draped a shirt of his over the human. It stank and was dirty, but it was warm and Jaskier was still low key afraid of getting kicked out to sleep in the mud, so he didn’t voice a single word of complaint. In the silence of the night with no one to talk to, words that were already spoken returned to his mind. Jaskier tried to block them out, but they bit at his brain, keeping him awake and drawing tears from his eyes. He curled further in on himself, trying to stay quiet as he sobbed into his hands. It just hurt so much to be discarded like he was nothing but a nuisance. Was that all he was? He was sure his songs brought joy in taverns, but right now the unlikely and unrealistic idea that everyone just pretended to have a good time was so overwhelming.

The bard flinched when he felt a huge hand on his shoulder and arm. He looked up to find Shrek hanging over him in nothing but his smalls. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the ogre clearly wasn’t good with words. “I’m fine, Shrek,” Jaskier lied as he wiped the tears off his face, “I’ll just find the nearest town tomorrow and fuck the pain away.” The words had already left him, when he realised how that might sound. “And I’ll do that tomorrow, not because I think you’re hideous, quite the contrary, you might be the most handsome ogre to ever exist, but I just assumed you would not be interested in having sex with a human… male. Human male, doesn’t seem your taste, but it could be, I wouldn’t judge you. How could I? You’ve been a most generous host! I…”

Jaskier almost suffocated as Shrek’s palm covered the entirety of his face. He got the hint and just shut up. Shrek slowly let go of his face, allowing him to breathe again. Jaskier looked away, cheeks red. He was blabbering nonsense to an ogre who preferred peace and quiet. He guessed it was time to sleep in the mud outside, however, Shrek wasn’t yelling at him… yet.

“So you just have sex and that helps you feel better?” Jaskier nodded slowly. “I wouldn’t mind helping you feel better. It is not like I have had lassies lining up in the swamp… or lads.” He laughed a little awkwardly, making Jaskier laugh too. He took hold of one of Shrek’s huge fingers with two of his, by comparison, tiny hands.

“Oh Shrek, you are such a wonderful host. You really do not have to do this though. I will still want to visit you again, even when you don’t want to fuck my brains out, just so I don’t have to think about some brutish asshole.” Shrek gave him a long look, before enclosing his hand around Jaskier’s waist and lifting him off the fauteuil.

“It’s not just for you. It’s for me too.” And Jaskier wanted to read into those words, figure out the ogre with complicated feelings, but he had no willpower to. Shrek’s bed was firm, almost hard like a plank. It smelled like him, like onions and mud and firewood. Shrek tried to undress him, but his huge fingers couldn’t get a grip on Jaskier’s complex clothing. Jaskier smiled kindly at him, helping him without even needing to look at any button. “Can I kiss you?” Jaskier didn’t even reply. Instead he pulled Shrek’s head down. It was an awkward kiss. Shrek’s mouth was way too big and neither of them were very coordinated in the moment.

When his clothes were mostly off and Jaskier was left in his smalls, Shrek kissed down his body, his huge tongue lapping at his skin and Jaskier could hear him enjoy the taste. He hummed to signal his pleasure, letting the ogre go about his business. Shrek pulled off his smalls and to Jaskier’s complete surprise, the ogre took his cock in his mouth. Jaskier whimpered, hands grabbing the sheets. Everything about Shrek was big, including his mouth. Even when the ogre sucked him to full hardness, Jaskier still didn’t feel the back of the ogre’s throat. Shrek sucked in his balls at well and Jaskier almost cried from the pleasure of having his cock and balls inside a warm mouth.

When Shrek let Jaskier go, his length was hard, red and leaking. Jaskier barely had time to recover, before he felt that glorious tongue on him again, this time licking over his hole. Whispered pleas left his lips as he imagined that tongue inside of him. Then a thought crossed his mind. If everything about Shrek was big, what about his dick? Jaskier had seen the ogre’s hands and one finger was already bigger than the average cock. While he normally was down to go big, the imaginable size of Shrek’s dong low key terrified him.

His mind had no opportunity to freak him out completely, because Shrek’s tongue entered him and the feeling was so, so good. Jaskier moaned as big green hands spread his cheeks and thick wetness penetrated him. “Ah… ah Shrek I hate to be a uh… fuck!” The bard trashed his arms around when his new found friend started to stroke his cock at the same time. “I’m gonna cum! Way too soon, I know! Sto..aahh...” His whole body tensed as he spilled all over himself. Shrek was unrelenting. As the bard’s cock was spent, he still had his tongue inside him, pressing at the right places and wiggling around so talentedly. “Stop, stop, stop, it’s too much, really, too much.”

Jaskier was out of breath, head fuzzy with post-orgasmic bliss. His whole brain short-circuited as Shrek’s tongue licked over his torso, cleaning him off all the cum he had spilled over himself. “Are you all right?” The green-skinned sex machine inquired with innocent eyes that did not match the absolute tent in his smalls.

“Say, Shrek, will I die if I swallow ogre cum?” Jaskier almost laughed at Shrek’s expression. It was a ‘yes, no, maybe’. “Ok fine, but I will suck you off still.” The human pushed at the ogre, cornering the larger frame against the opposite wall, before getting on his knees.

“With all due respect, Jask, I don’t think you can fit me anywhere.” Jaskier didn’t listen, pulling down Sherk’s white smalls in spite of knowing the ogre was probably right. As soon as 12 inch of green cock basically slapped him in the face, Jaskier knew he was in way over his head. Still, he was confident that if he tried, he could still fit the head inside his mouth. With Shrek still assuring him he did not have to do this, Jaskier started licking all over Shrek’s length. The taste was not as bad as he feared. In fact, the more he licked, the more he started to like it. Jaskier made out with the head of Shrek’s cock, fucking the slit with his tongue. Shrek was holding his shoulder, occasionally squeezing a little as he moaned. And oh were those delicious moans, primal, guttural, deep and vibrating through Jaskier’s entire body.

The human tried many times, but he couldn’t slip the monster cock inside his mouth. He was resilient though and kept trying, while stroking the rest of the green length. He was so caught up in his quest that he didn’t hear Shrek telling him how close he was. He made a disappointed sound as he was forcibly removed from the cock in his mouth. Jaskier crawled back up the bed and stretched out his body. “Cum on me,” he wantonly moaned and Shrek did not disappoint. Jaskier had to close his eyes and mouth as he got showered in thick, beige cum. He never had felt this dirty, but it was a good kind. He wished he could have taken Shrek in his ass. He could’ve been so full.

Once Shrek had stopped groaning, Jaskier dared to open his eyes. He could see guilt already spreading over Shrek’s face. He must have been a sight, so much smaller than Shrek and absolutely drenched in his cum. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve always fantasised about being showered in cum. Just never thought that all that cum would come from a single person.”

Shrek let out a relieved sigh and helped him wipe some cum off his face so it wouldn’t get into his mouth or eyes. “I’ll prepare you a bath,” he spoke gently, surprising Jaskier with the thoughtfulness. His eyes followed the ogre as he put his breeches on and moved out to probably get some fresh water. A laugh escaped Jaskier as he stared at the sticky substance covering his skin. Who would’ve thought that the swamp could’ve been so pleasant?

#shrekier #i've been a bad boy daddy #forgive me father for i have sinned #shrek x jaskier #shrek #julian alfred pankratz #dandelion #netflix jaskier #the witcher #lemon #the witcher fic #shrek fic #monsterfucking #ogre #ogres #ogres are like onions

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Summary: Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears echoes of the birdsong in her laugher, the songs of the gods in the wind.

(Loosely inspired by ‘Your Name’, aka Kimi No Nawa, featuring Haikyuu’s own pretty Tokyo boy)

Wordcount: 3.5k

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

‘It’s rare to see young men like you buying flowers for their mother’, the florist comments offhand as she wraps his order of yellow chrysanthemums in paper.

Akaashi smiles, accustomed to the friendly florist by now. ‘I guess I’ve always had a partiality for flowers’, waving to the florist as he leaves to head to Shibuya to meet Bokuto for Izakaya. He’s running late, but Bokuto doesn't mind, hooting good naturedly at the comedy show playing on the television in the rundown bar.

‘Agaaaashi, you made it!’ Bokuto rises from his seat to give him a jovial fist bump.

‘Of course I did’, he responds dryly. ‘Wild horses wouldn’t keep me from my appointment with you’. He spends most of dinner listening to Bokuto’s recent exploits both with the national team and MSBY. Excitement still sparkles in the older man’s eyes as he recounts each and every match he’s played in, and Akaashi idly wonders how it is that Bokuto seems to have managed to pack on even more muscle in the short span of a month, the last time they met up was to see Bokuto off at the airport for the World Cup.

‘You should have continued playing volleyball in university’, Bokuto crows in between mouthfuls of yakiniku and beer and Akaashi shakes his head at the refrain he’s so used to hearing from his senpai.

‘I wouldn’t be able to maintain my grades if I wanted to take volleyball seriously in university, plus there’s no guarantee I’d even get off the bench’, he answers self-effacingly.

‘But you have the best tosses, Akaaaaaashi!!’ Bokuto declares, his words slightly slurred, and Akaashi wonders if he should start to inch Bokuto’s beer away from him. After consuming far too much barbecued meat (Bokuto took the liberty of ordering twice of what Akaashi would normally order, waving his protests off by stating grandly that he’ll take care of the bill, he’s the one working after all!), Bokuto slips into a food-drunk stupor, happy to listen to his anecdotes of university life, and he takes the chance to ramble on about his advanced Japanese classical literature course that he finds far more fascinating than his class on modern literature to his best friend.

They stumble out of the izakaya when the line outside grows far too long to be ignored, Bokuto draping a heavy arm over Akaashi’s shoulder, the red tint on the tips of his ears betraying his slightly tipsy state. As they stand at the traffic light patiently waiting for the light to change from red to green, Bokuto turns to him and grasps his shoulders in his large, warm hands.

‘I’m really proud to have you as a friend, Akaashi’, Bokuto tells him seriously. ‘And I’m going to prove to you that I can be the best ace so you can be proud of me too’. The molten gold glimmering in Bokuto’s gaze fills him with far more warmth than any alcohol could possibly achieve.

‘I’m already proud of you, Bokuto-san’, he answers, his earnestness resounding in every word of his short declaration. Bokuto beams at him in response and bounds across the pedestrian walkway in approximately three strides, ignoring Akaashi’s chiding to ‘look before you cross the road, even if you have the right of way!’

Many things may have changed since high school, but some things still stay the same.

His dreams take a strange turn that night.

He’s back in the Fukurodani gym with his teammates, but it’s not accurate to say he’s with them - rather, he’s watching his past self from afar, seated on the bench, a wrist guard on his right arm. He doesn’t remember ever injuring himself enough to warrant a wrist guard at any point during his high school volleyball career, but it’s probably just another oddity of being in a dream.

‘I wish your wrist was feeling better, Akaashi. I miss your tosses already’, the pout in Bokuto’s voice pronounced.

‘It’s just for a while - I’ll be right as rain tomorrow!’ he hears himself say cheerfully - but that doesn’t make sense either. No one in their right mind has ever described the way he speaks as cheerful, and the rest of his teammates glance over at him curiously. Then his past self awkwardly tucks his legs under the bench, ankles crossed almost as if he’d like nothing better than to fold himself away with all the cloth vests they use for practice – but that doesn’t make sense either, he doesn’t even know why he’s behaving like some fish out of water. While volleyball doesn’t come naturally to him as it does to someone like Bokuto-san, and there are times he feels like he’s struggling to swim upstream, his fingers still itch to toss a ball up into the sky in a perfect arc even now.

‘I told you, I don’t get what you insist on waxing lyrical on him being a star you can’t help but follow,’ he hears her voice chime in his consciousness, inexplicable though her presence in this scene may be, he hears himself answer - ‘just be patient and watch’.

Anahori, their substitute setter tosses the ball up in the air and it’s a good toss, he will give him that, but it’s still not quite as high a toss that Bokuto likes. Bokuto runs right up to the net to leap into the air, back arching to slam the ball to the ground with such force that it’s a commanding full stop punctuating any doubts about his place on the team as its captain and ace.

‘You see! When he plays well, he's like a supernova, shining with a light so bright it almost blinds my eyes.’

‘Waxing lyrical again, Keiji-kun?’ He can hear her tease him gently. ‘Go on, carry on with your celestial metaphors’.

‘How about a shooting star then’, he replies, amused. ‘If a shooting star shot up from the earth instead of falling from the sky.’

‘You sound like you like the guy. Are you sure you don’t?’ She asks. ‘You sure sound like you do.’

What?!

His legs are tangled in his sheets when he thrashes awake, mouth open in a gasp for air. That was a new twist in his collection of dreams, the first time he’s dreamt of something other than that phantom girl’s life in months, but even when the dreamscape doesn’t even feature her, she still manages to invade his dream.

Worse - his dreams are now edging into territory he hasn’t mapped out in years. His teenage infatuation with Bokuto-san died a natural death after he realised that he’d mistaken his admiration for the ace for romantic feelings. Besides, there was no way Bokuto-san would ever be in love with him, not when he’d chosen to devote the next decade of his life to his sport. So why are his dreams dragging him deeper into a labyrinth of memories that aren’t even his own?

‘Why are you squandering my pocket money in a maid café of all things’ he says, sounding uncharacteristically put out. But then again he would be annoyed if anyone managed to drag him into the pink and white monstrosity his dream has deposited him into.

Bokuto’s happily seated across from him (or rather, his past self), exclaiming ‘ooh - isn’t the ketchup art on this omurice amazing, Akaashi? They managed to capture my hair so well!’, and to his horror his past self nods encouragingly and only laughs when Bokuto whines about not wanting to destroy this ‘piece of art the maids took so much time to create’ by eating the damn omurice.

‘Don’t be such a killjoy, Keiji-kun’, she giggles. ‘Look at him, he’s having such fun, and besides, your day will reset so your money won’t be wasted anyway!’.

Bokuto, distracted by the catchy beat of the J-pop song blasting over the speakers, is cajoled by a trio of pretty maids to join them on stage to dance along with them. He pops his hips to the beat of the music, throwing up cheesy hand signals with such gusto that it makes him (yes, present day Keiji) want to smile.

But his past self evidently hasn’t lightened up yet, because he hears himself say crossly – ‘You do realise this is a waste of time when we could be doing something more useful like homework, especially since Bokuto-san and I already spend most of our time training?’

‘Oh Keiji-kun, life is too short to be spent worrying like that. Because before you know it, you’ll grow into an old man who doesn’t know how to have any fun’.

‘I have fun’, he says petulantly, a faint sulk in his voice.

‘Oh really? Then stop worrying and live a little. Maybe you should take a leaf out of your beloved Bokuto-san’s book – look how much fun he’s having!’

Bokuto clearly seems to be having the time of his life because now he’s prancing around the stage playing some silly game with the maids.

‘I told you, I don’t think of him that way.’

‘And I’ve told you I’ve borrowed your skin for far too long to know when you’re not telling me the whole truth, Keiji-kun’, she sing-songs. ‘You wished for more time with him, didn’t you, so aren’t I doing a good deed by helping you figure out what Bokuto might like to do with you?’

‘Bokuto-san doesn’t have spare time on these things – and you’re just making an excuse to explore cafes in Tokyo at my expense!’

‘Two birds, one stone. Don’t be pedantic, Keiji-kun!’

The next time he’s back in one of those dreams, he finds his past self dressed in a blue yukata along the Sumida river, tugging Bokuto away from the takoyaki store. He remembers Bokuto dragging him away from the rest of the team on a quest to buy some snacks at the food stalls set up around the park, insisting that his stomach’s growling too loudly to wait until the fireworks display is over ‘come on, even you can hear my stomach at this rate, Akaaashi!!!’ – but that’s where the dream starts to diverge.

‘If you queue for takoyaki, we’re going to miss the fireworks, and you don’t want to miss that, do you Bokuto-san?’ he says, hand firmly on Bokuto’s yukata sleeve.

‘That’s right! But shouldn’t we join the rest of the team? They’ve got a spot by the river just over there!’

‘We won’t get there in time with this crowd – come on! If we hurry, I know the perfect spot to watch the display’, weaving his way through the crowd to shimmy up the trunk of a tree and settle himself comfortably against a large branch.

‘Woah – Akaashi! I never knew you could climb trees!’ Bokuto calls, sounding impressed.

‘Well, don’t stand there, come join me!’

The tree creaks ominously as the larger boy scales its trunk, branches already heavy with red lanterns groaning in protest as he settles himself in the branch opposite Akaashi. And not a moment too soon, because a collective gasp ripples through the crowd along the river as the night sky explodes into rainbow hued fiery streaks.

‘It’s amazing, Akaashi!’ Bokuto hollers with his face tilted up to the sky.

‘You’re amazing, Bokuto-san’, he says fondly, reaching over to bump Bokuto’s shoulder with his fist and the older boy beams at him, the sheer delight in his smile brighter than the fireworks in the sky. There is a sea of stars in his eyes, and Akaashi wants to shrivel in shame at the way his younger self looks like he’s mentally planning to pirate a boat to cross the straits to Bokuto’s heart.

‘There is no way I’m going to do that’ he hears himself say, sounding mildly cross.

‘Eh – it’s cute. ‘sides, doesn’t he look so happy’ he hears her say, sounding overly chipper.

‘You could spend your time instead learning how to play so Bokuto-san won’t pout when you sit out of practice and you wouldn’t have to pretend you sprain your wrist every time we swap.’

‘Are you mad? Do you really think they won’t think something’s up when I can’t even do a simple serve?’

‘Fine. You have a point’, he answers begrudgingly.

‘Of course I do. Come on Keiji, live a little. Enjoy your time with the lodestar of your life’.

‘Can you not say things like that?’ he says dryly.

‘It’s your fault for reading so much Shakespeare to me!’ she replies with a grin in her voice.

He texts Bokuto the minute he wakes up. ‘Bokuto-san, apologies if this seems weird, but do you remember if we ever climbed a tree when we watched fireworks with our team?’

Bokuto takes a while to respond, but that’s to be expected, it’s his mornings are usually filled with practice and conditioning. But when he does respond, his text makes Akaashi’s brow curl. ‘Nope, but sounds fun! What’s up Akaashi!!’

Akaashi drops his head in his palms. Good to know he’s not losing his grip on reality at least.

But his sleep for the following weeks continues to be filled with dreams in the same vein.

He dreams of scenes that have never taken place in real life - him challenging Bokuto-san to ramen eating competition, the older boy winning handily of course, crowing like a child when he slurps the last mouthful of tonkatsu broth - ‘eh Akaashi, eat faster!’, him dragging Bokuto-san to the arcade near school, demolishing middle schoolers in endless games of dance dance revolution (there is no way he is actually able to move like that in real life) and losing far too much money in claw games - ‘Akaashi I really want that toy pleaseeee’ - and even he would admit it’s absolutely adorable if not for the fact that he can’t explain why these dreams keep invading his head like a wildfire that refuses to die.

‘I honestly don’t understand you’, she says and again, why on earth is she in this set of dreams - she doesn’t belong in them -

‘What exactly do you not understand?’

‘If you like him that much, why aren’t you jumping at the chance to hang out with him? All you do is nag me about how I’m wasting his time, I’m wasting your time, but I don’t understand - isn’t time meant to be spent on the people you love? Unless you’re confusing love with admiration, because yes, I get that you admire his talent, but you don’t seem to have all that much patience for spending time with him outside of school.’

‘I suppose I do like him, but…’

‘Finally you admit it, but I don’t like the sound of that word.’

‘It’s nothing’, he finally says, and she huffs in annoyance, clearly wanting him to explain but he stubbornly refuses to say another word.

His past self is skidding down the hallway with Bokuto hot on his heels yelling ‘Akaaashiii you owe me a Yakisoba bunnnnn’ when he hears an almighty crash behind him. As he spins around, Bokuto’s sprawled on the floor, papers and books scattered around him. The older boy grimaces as he sits up, grabbing at his ankle in pain.

‘Bokuto-san, are you ok?’ he cries, running back towards the older boy.

‘I might have twisted my ankle. Argh this is bad - prelims are just next week!’ Bokuto groans, clutching at his ankle desperately.

‘Don’t worry. You’ll be fine tomorrow, trust me’, his past self says with complete certainty, and flags down a passing student to call for a teacher.

‘Look what you’ve done now. Are you happy with yourself?’ he hears himself say accusingly. ‘Everything might reset tomorrow, but look - he’s hurt himself today. Is this what you’ve been trying to prove to me?’

‘I’m sorry, Keiji’ he hears her say, her voice watery. ‘I didn’t think -’

‘Of course you didn’t, you never think about the consequences of your actions, do you?’ he says, glass shards in his words.

His dream fades to black. He never hears her answer.

His sleep remains relatively undisturbed for the next fortnight, just in time for his mid-term exams which he aces, even his course on classical Japanese literature. He’s relieved of course, because his final year grades matter most when it comes to recruitment, yet there’s a part of him that’s buried deep between ventricles and pumping flesh that childishly wonders what his dreams are going to show him next.

His wish is answered when he opens his eyes to an ocean of stars, white pinpricks of light against the vast tapestry of the purple night sky. His head is pillowed on tufts of grass and the wind whispers against his feet.

The sight takes his breath away.

He’s a born and bred city boy, and he knows from experience it’s near impossible to see stars in the city sky amidst light pollution and masquerading satellites.

‘Is this your way of apologising?’ he asks, his voice wry.

‘Is it working yet?’ he hears her ask, an uncharacteristically timid note in her voice. He laughs, a fond sound, and he can hear her huff a breath through her mouth. ‘I am sorry though, Keiji. I never meant to hurt him’.

‘It’s fine, no damage done. Besides, I was thinking about what you said.’

‘Me? About what? I know I’ve said plenty to you so far’, she says curiously.

‘About Bokuto-san’, he supplies, and she stays silent, waiting for him to go on. The stars twinkle down at him, and if he closes his eyes, he can imagine the galaxy reaching down to lend him its infinite strength. ‘You were right about how…I felt about Bokuto-san. I thought what I felt for him was something more than it really was - now I’m starting to realise I just admire his strength, and I don’t see our paths ever converging, especially if he’s going to chase his dreams of going pro all the way’.

‘You don’t have to chase someone else’s light when you’re brilliant in your own right’, she says gently.

‘Thanks’, he answers thickly, as if the word feels a little awkward in his mouth.

‘So -’ she pipes up, and he can tell she’s trying her best to paper over the sudden lapse of silence. ‘Will you tell me stories about the stars, Keiji?’

He laughs fondly, raising a hand to catch the stardust from the sparkling constellations overhead. ‘I could tell you the story of Andromeda, chained to rocks as a sacrifice to satisfy the cruel demands of the sea monster?’

‘Ugh no gory stories, I want a happy ending!’

‘It has a happy ending, I promise. Just be patient and listen, okay?’

Akaashi wakes up before his past self can finish telling the tale of Persues’ rescue of Andromeda from the jaws of defeat. It’s barely three in the morning, but he knows it’s futile to try to go back to sleep. He wanders to the window, and wonders whether the lone star hanging in the cloudy sky is merely a satellite in disguise.

Against his better judgment, he dials Bokuto’s number.

‘What’s up, Akaashi!’ he hears the older man mumble sleepily, sheets rustling.

‘Was it obvious I had a crush on you in high school?’ he asks plainly. If seeking closure is what he needs to end this slew of dreams, then he’s going to do it, never mind the embarrassment thick in the blood in his veins.

‘Huh?’

Akaashi’s pretty sure he can hear Bokuto blink rapidly. ‘A crush on you’, he repeats, and for good measure he adds - ‘sometime in your third year of high school’.

‘Ehhhh…’ Bokuto’s voice trails off over the phone. ‘You did?’

The sigh that trips out of Akaashi’s mouth is worn, weary. ‘I did’, he confirms, embarrassment writhing in his belly.

‘But you stopped right? Just before I graduated? You started becoming distracted after Spring High and I thought you were just worrying about university entrance exams.’

‘I suppose.’ And Akaashi should really get a grip on himself but his dreams have been doing a number on him so to his horror, he starts to ramble. ’ It’s probably the lack of sleep, but look - this sounds really stupid but I was having a lot of really weird dreams and I don’t understand what’s happening but I’m hoping getting this off my chest helps me get some more sleep and I hope you don’t think I’m completely weird and don’t mind still being my friend -’

‘Woah, ‘kaashi, slow down! You’re overthinking again - what, you think I’m not going to be your friend anymore?’ Bokuto booms, laughing widely.

‘Uh. I don’t know?’

‘Relax! I’m flattered, but I think it’s a good thing we never went out! You were already so stressed dealing with me in high school Washio used to joke about your hair falling out, but I’ve changed! Now I’m just an ordinary ace!’

‘Bokuto-san, I don’t think anyone would call you ordinary’, Akaashi interjects, rubbing circles against his temple.

‘You know what I mean!’ Bokuto laughs, the sound so round and boisterous that it makes Akaashi quirk his lips up in affection.

‘Yes, Bokuto-san. Anyway, sorry for disturbing your sleep.’

‘Anytime, Akaashi!’ They bid each other goodnight, and the relief he feels after the call settles on his chest like a blanket, and he falls back to sleep.

Taglist:

@1tooru @kageyamakock @animeflower26 @underrated-fruit-tarts-official

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji x y/n #akaashi keiji #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu imagines #haikyuucreations #haikyuu romance #haikyuu headcanons #hq imagines #hq fluff #haikyuu fic rec #fukurodani #kimi no nawa #your name

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kilibaggins · 3 years

Text

~John Murphy February~

Hello, Fellow John Murphy fans! This Post is just a little thing I have thrown together to try and start a small(?) Event for everyone who either Likes John Murphy, or anyone who is in The 100 fandom.

Today is January 31st, 2021, tomorrow February starts, and I thought this might be a good time to show Our Boy Some love. I, admittedly, did not prepare for this. But, I feel like we can still get the ball rolling, and by the end of the Month, we could have a bunch of new content for him.

The tag for this event will be: #jmf2021

Which is short for “John Murphy February 2021″

Also, please tag me in your creations! I want to see and Reblog them!

What I was thinking, is that During the Month of February, we just.... Make him more content. Gifs, Art, Fanfic, Headcanons, absolutely anything. It can be any type of Murphy, Au Murphy, Season 1, Season 7, etc. Absolutely anything your heart desires. It can be anything from Smut, Fluff, Angst Hurt/Comfort, etc. It can be X Character, it can be X reader, it can be X Nobody, etc. It can even be playlists!

It is important to note, that this is not something you NEED to do. This is for fun, and if you don’t want to, then that’s okay. Its also important that you know you do not, by any means have to make content every day if you start this. You could make one single Murphy content post, and that would be amazing because YOU are creating something for/about him.

There are only a few rules.

Rules:

Tag things appropriately. I understand wanting people to look at your content, but please tag things right.

Please do not use the tag for anything other than things for the “event”.

And That’s about it lol.

I did not have a “challenge” in mind. There are no specific guidelines, other than it has to include Murphy. But, I do have a few prompt lists that I will Post below, that you an use if you choose to! they are daily Prompts, that if you need a list to go by, you can. Even if you do not do stuff daily, you can use the prompts for inspiration!

Again, you do not need to follow any of these prompts, but I feel like it could help some people get ideas of things to do.

Dialogue Prompts (mix of romantic and normal):

“I’m tired and my bed feels so empty without you there.”

“I will kill you, I swear.”

“Hold My Hand.”

“Oh yeah, this is going beautifully” “Someone just DIED” “Yeah, maybe LEARN WHAT SARCASM IS!”

“I started crying because I hit my elbow on that thing over there and now the tears wont stop, and I’m sitting on the floor in my boxers because i don’t have energy to get up because I’ve been sobbing for 2 hours.”

“When you cry, I cry, so stop.”

“They had no right to do that to you.”

“Where are they, I’m going to beat their ass.”

“I just want you to be happy, even if your happiness doesn’t include me, I just want you happy.”

“Your legs bleeding.” “Oh really? I hadn’t noticed that half of my goddamned blood was flowing out of my leg, but thanks for letting me know.”

“Breathe, Baby, Breathe.”

“Fuck You!”

“If you don’t walk away right now im going to punch you.”

“Don’t die on me, please.”

“I’m not making it out of here.”

“Kiss Me. Please I need to feel it one ore time please.”

“It hurts so bad, please make it stop.”

“What did they do to you?”

“Are You okay?”

“Cuddles?”

“You know, If I didn’t know better I’d think you were bribing me with kisses.”

“Why are you on the table?”

“I want a baby.”

“I found this dog.”

“Tell me you didn’t do it. Please say it wasn’t you.”

“Why did they do this to me?”

“Did you think we were going to have sex?”

“I hope you don’t think that we all act like this.”

“I love you.” “Liar.”

Quick Prompts:

Knife

Sobs

Sleep

Cuddles

Cat

Panic

Coming Out

Love

Dancing in the Rain

Pain

#john murphy #the 100 #jmf2021 #john murphy february #th100 #t100 #the 100 fanfic #even if you dont participate #please signal boost #thank you

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iwannaholdyoutight- · 4 years

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Pintaga (a summer fic challenge)

Fresh fruit. Friends to lovers. Longing.

a/n: it’s finally here! This piece of writing couldn’t happen without the one and only @helladirections. She organized this amazing challenge and you guys should read everything from her and this challenge. Please, don’t forget to reblog, this is my first fic in a very long time and I would love to see people reading it.

word count: 8k

Preview:

In the air Harry could smell the jasmines, coming from the perfume of the girl with the blue heart shaped sunglasses and dressed with a yellow one piece with little white flowers sewed to it - a vintage piece she got just the day before on a thrift shop when they were exploring. He could listen to the faint Mick Jagger voice repeating the verse “pretty pretty girl” and he couldn’t disagree, she was a pretty girl indeed.

There was nothing he wanted more than get her in his arms, tell her he didn’t know it was possible to fall in love without even kissing the person for a first time. He wanted to press his nose into her neck and feel the shivers that would pass through her body.

When Harry had to postpone his tour, he was sad. But, when 2021 finally came, he was just so happy to be able to reconnect with his fans. To see people’s faces and knowing that each person has their own story to tell when they listen to his songs. He loves that.

It was during tour that he met Angelino, a new music producer with very different methods in his technique: zither in a mix with glam rock, alfaias with hip hop. To put it short: they became fast friends when they met on a night out after the Vegas show.

And it was thanks to Angelino he met her. It was raining so much when the words left his friends mouth “I want you to meet someone” yet she was the sunshine walking inside the hotel.

She wasn’t shy but also didn’t do everything to draw any attention to her. Harry was captivated to say at least. Maybe was her smile or maybe was the way she looked with such care when taking to anyone. Sadly, they couldn’t see each other for longer than a few hours. Harry had a plane to catch, she was a movie and arts major in Italy and was only there to visit a friend. But Harry just couldn’t let her go, there was something about her, he wanted to know what was hidden behind those colorful outfits she wore and all the smart talk they had during that same rainy afternoon. Being in his position he had to be careful, what he would give to be “normal” for just 5 minutes so he could flirt with this cute girl, get her number and maybe ask her on a date. But he wasn’t. So he settled with an Instagram follow and a promises she would dm him books and movies he should check it up.

The first book she made him read was Dorian Gray - she was shocked to know he never read anything by Oscar Wilde. In exchange he tried to make this curious stubborn girl give Murakami a second chance (she still hates the book and he couldn’t lie, he got a bit sad about it).

After a few months of conversation he finally gave in and asked for her number. From this day on, they would never stop texting each other, to the point Jeff would complain about how “he’s always on his phone and never actually listening”.

He got so close to her and was admired with how free she was. After 20 something years stuck in her hometown she decided she wanted to met the world. Entered this course in Italy with a scholarship (she is very smart to the point it Harry is intimidated) and never looked back.

Harry told her about his first big break up, that inspired Fine Line, told her about his fears and how love is a difficult subject when it comes to him. The loving part it’s easy the problem is when the enchantment dies and all there is left are two broken people. The one to move on first it’s always the happiest.

But he couldn’t always live on his phone talking to this girl who makes him weak in the knees. He had interviews to attend and shows to perform. When tour finally ended, he was tired but sad, a deep space in his heart felt so empty. It’s the first time in three years he didn’t have nothing planned and he was only starting his new album in a few months.

Harry needed a break, a nice holiday. Sadly London was cold and so was his emotions. So, when that same girl told him about this island called “Fernando de Noronha” around the South American continent and that her aunt got a house there and asked if he wanted to join her on 10 days trip there… he just couldn’t say no!

It’s summertime whenever she is around and well… it is summertime in the south so it’s a win win for Harry, honestly.

🐠

And that’s where Harry finds himself right now… bathing in the sun together with this amazing girl that makes him feel all mushy inside and nervous. He is almost a 30 year old man, he shouldn't be so nervous around her, but it’s inevitable.

The moment he got off the plane, he was in love. The island was beautiful. Blue skies that mix with the blue of the ocean and the horizon. Everything seemed to be made out of glitter and rainbow colors. There was music every night, people were singing and dancing. During the day there was street fairs, boat rides and the beautiful golden light that was didn’t come only from the sun, but also a light that shined through this amazing young woman when she was laughing and trying (and failing) to play volleyball with a group of teens on the beach. They didn’t stay in a fancy hotel, they were in a simple yet beautiful house, without any neighborhood but when they went out they always went to the simplest places, surrounded by simple people. People who might know who he was, but mostly just didn’t care. Sure, he was asked to take some pictures but that was the most normal he ever felt since he was a teenager. There was a rich part in the island, lots of famous people from South America liked to spend their summer there- but for one, Harry was grateful to stay like this.

All thanks to her...

The summer breeze in his face being exactly what he needed. He was living those sweet days of summer he was denied in 2020 because of the pandemic and in 2021 because of the tour.

He wanted to kiss her and keep her forever by his side so they could be happily ever after. But Harry couldn’t. He was bad at love and he would rather have her as a friend than doing something and fucking up her as well.

“What did you say” she asked while lifting up from the towel she had on the floor, raising her sunglasses over that beautiful sun kissed hair (it was shining so much) and attentively looking at him.

“I didn’t say a thing” was he thinking out loud? Oh my god… he is fucked if that was that case.

“You said something about being bad at love. Why do you think that?”

Harry sat down and took a deep breath.

“I talked to you about my love life before… I don’t think I was made for love. Some people can find love at every corner, but it doesn’t matter how hard I try, every time I think I got it right… the person just vanish out of the tips of my fingers. And I feel so bad talking about this when I know I can have anything I want, but it hurts when I’m alone in a bedroom or I’m being the third wheel again with my friends. I’m just so lonely all the time and every time I try… it just ends shitty. I get a few good songs out of it but the pain sometimes it’s just not worth it”.

She looked at the ocean, the sun was already so high in the sky, it was probably around 11 am. Then, looking back at Harry, she gave him a weak smile. She felt like he was a mixture of everything good and he didn't deserve to feel like he wasn’t cut for love. If she could and he let her… she would give him all the love it was possible and impossible.

“Just because it ended doesn’t mean it was bad. If it made you happy, even if just for one second, it was worth it. And even when it hurts, we always learn something.” She took a deep breath, waiting for him to say something while Harry just looked at her with soft eyes but so much sadness and sorrow behind them. He didn’t know what to say, so she decided to continue: “you know, I call it bullshit when poets say love is only good if it hurts. Love isn’t made for pain, sometimes it might happen, but love is made to give warmth and to make the soul feel like it’s being caressed in a whisper that says ‘you found me’. And there are many types of love, not all of them are made to last a lifetime”.

He gave her a smile:

“Do you think there is still someone to love me or have I missed my chance?”

That was her chance:

“I think if you look right… you will find it right next to you, so close it would surprise you” she gave him a knowing look and decided to change the subject “wanna put on some clothes and go to the street fair? We can have lunch in there, buy some nice fresh fruits and have a picnic when the sun starts to set. You can make a playlist while a set a nice towel with candles and everything we might need. Maybe… we could try some of that stuff I got yesterday, what do you say?”

That stuff being the Argyreia seeds a friend of her had given as a gift. They were in the fridge inside a pot of water - apparently you have to leave them at least 12 hours on it so it could be ready to use. Among the effects they found of Google you could suffer from synesthesia episodes, positive elevation of your humor, sensitive to touch among others. A normal (and legal, apparently) natural hallucinogen.

Harry decided to play cool with her confession (he thinks it was a confession) and just smirks at her as a confirmation for the rest of their day. Maybe then, he’ll have the courage to kiss her. He gets up first, offering his hand, she takes it, getting up. Being barefoot, she had to look up to talk to him, their hands intertwined, noses almost touching. Looking inside his eyes, she thinks Harry must be a magical being, that could be the only explanation to how his eyes could change color to match the nature. Normally green but right now his eyes were almost blue, maybe was the sun, maybe was the sky without a single cloud; one thing was clear: his eyes were matching the ocean and the sky but also the leaves on the palm trees with the green left in them.

Leading the way, they got inside the house. In a secluded area (you just had to walk a lot but it wasn’t in the middle of the fancy big mansions- the house was colorful - just like everything about this island). The wood backdoor was the way they go when coming back from the beach . As soon as they entered through the gate, was a little stone way, with red and pink poppies adorning both sides, they went to the shower the house had on the outside so none of them would make a mess inside the house with sand everywhere. Then, I sei de the house, walking through the open plan kitchen, that was out of a sixties movie. Almost everything looked vintage with the most beautiful dining table they had ever seen: made out of dark wood and tall chairs, her aunt said this table was from her great grandmother.

Then there was two little steps and it was the living room, with a lot of space, three couches and a lot of pieces of art, it looked like someone had just throw different items but, somehow made it work. Harry went to sit on a plastic chair there was right in the corner of the room and looked at the very wet very sunburnt girl:

“You can go get ready first, I’ll wait” she smiled and thanked him, going upstairs and leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Looking at the yellow wall full of paintings from the people of the island, he didn’t know what to do to himself, he was fucked. He got up from the chair and went to the vinyl player that stood on the far left of the living room with three boxes next to it, opening he found a lot of vinyls. Settling for one he never heard before: Caetano Veloso - Transa, he put to play. He knew about Caetano, he even putted one of his songs to play at the one night only event, the name of the song was Baby and at the time was his ex girlfriend who had showed him, but right now the only thing he could think about when listening to this very psychedelic song that was playing through the speakers, the only thing he could think about is the same girl who is taking a shower just a few feet away and how much he wants the hours to pass faster so they can get high and listen to the playlist he was making and was to add also this album he was listening, especially after a quick google research about it, having now the acknowledge that transa translates to sex.

She came downstairs with her hair still wet, wearing her old pink converse and a yellow sundress, with the cute straps and a short but very loose ends. She had this glow someone can only achieve when you just spend the day at the beach with dear ones. Free of any makeup she was with his ray bans and gave him a soft look “I hope you don’t mind I got your ray bans to wear. They just look they were made for this outfit”.

“No problem. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be done”.

Taking the fastest shower he ever took in his life, he put on some old jeans short and his favorite pink summer shirt. And he ran - literally ran - downstairs because he felt like this was a date. He was excited.

“So, wanna take the bikes or see if we can get an Uber” there was this thing, neither one of them had the license required for the island and even if the Uber app worked there… it was hard to find drivers who were willing to drive to such a far area.

“Let’s take the bikes. They have baskets so whatever we buy we can just carry back”

“Sure”

They went through the front door, the house was painted in blue, to match the ocean, with lots of different plants and those same plants, especially the clambering plants, gave the house this almost fairy vibe. Like it was made of a golden and rainbow dust and everything that it’s good. The bikes were located near the wall and close to the small pool. One bike was white and the other was of a bright orange. Harry got the bright one because it was slightly bigger, so he would feel more comfortable.

🍓

They rode the bike for around 10 minutes, passing fields and trees that were so tall it almost felt like their leaves were kissing each other. Harry kept ruming gold and braid by stevie nicks the whole ride while dividing his attention between the girl riding the white bike a few meters ahead and the surrounding area. There was no one in sight for the first few minutes, but the closer they got to the center of the island, more people started to appear. In a few days living in the island he already observed that he could pinpoint who was a tourist and who was a native by one thing: the clothes.

The citizens always dressed like it was just a normal day (like imagine you normal day it’s living in paradise) and people from the outside always went out like it was a beach party everyday. As soon as Harry notice that, he always made sure to dress quite simple, so people could pass him by. Of course, sometimes someone would try and talk to him with the native language (which he learned is portuguese and not spanish, as he originally thought it would be).

They descarted their bikes on a small wall that was made for this purpose, with digital locks and everything (it was 5 bucks the hour and all you had to do when it was the time to pick it up you just put on your card to pay for the time you used the spot). They started to walk towards the street fair that was in a pretty street with old houses from the colonial era. The more they walked, closer their bodies touched and closer they were from holding hands.

People never talk about the conversation that goes when it comes to small touches. Sometimes, a small caress of a finger against someone's hand, it’s more than the act of touching, it’s an act of questioning: are we feeling the same? I wanna hold you hand like my soul it’s holding yours, please take care of it, because it’s your to take.

They started holding hands the moment the took a turn to the street fair, and if anyone looked at them, would say there were a couple. And it was nothing more that their entire wish that that statement was actually truth.

In the window of a red brick house there was an old man with his guitar, he sung something of their culture and a few people were dancing to it like it was a show. Harry was so in love with this environment, people lived and breathed culture. It was a break he never needed. He already went all around the world and it was on a simple island that he found something he didn’t know it existed.

“Where do you want to go first?” Asked the girl looking up at him and squirting her eyes because of the sun. She had his sunglasses but they were acting more like a headband to that mess it was her hair than to their actual function: protect her shining beautiful eyes from the sun.

“How about we go and buy those fruit for our late evening picnic and then we go have lunch? And from there we see where to go”.

“Seems like a plan, let’s find the vendor with the most variety of fruits, wanna taste them all” And I wanna taste you, thought Harry but he just accepted it wasn’t the time yet. He didn’t want their first kiss to be in the middle of a fair with so many eyes watching. Harry hasn’t been recognized too much but he couldn’t risk too much.

Walking they passed a group of old ladies - like maybe in their 80s- selling beautiful handmade dresses and skirts and shirts, all made in white lace. Such a beautiful work, and Harry made a mental note to come back later and get something for his mother and sister. That was something they would like.

Finally they reached a wooden table full of different fruits and behind it was an older and a younger man, if they had to guess, they would say there were grandfather and grandchild because of their faces similarities: dark skin with very powerful green eyes. While one had the blackest hair either one of them had see, the other one had silver strings in different parts of his hair. In their mouth they carried a soonting smille. They approached the table and the older one started to talk in the native language and he was speaking in such a enthusiastic manner that Harry didn’t have the heart to explain he new close to nothing about portuguese. But the young man seemed to have noticed who he was, touching the talking fella head and saying something in his ear. He stopped talking and was, now, quiet, but never ending the smile in his face.

“Sorry about that. My name is Sol. What can I do for you guys?” The girl beside Harry gave him this shining smile and started talking:

“Hi, Sol.That means Sun right?”

“Yeah, my family it’s a very hippie family. Actually I have two sisters: one it’s called Lua, her name translates to ‘moon’, and the other it’s called Frida. By the way,if it’s not too much problem Mr. Styles, I would like to get an autograph for them, they are big fans of you. And what about your name, sunshine?” asked the young man. Harry was jealous he was flirting with her - and he wasn’t entitled to feel jealous, but that’s what he was feeling - so he put his arms around her and told her name getting an angry yet amused look from her.

“And no problem about the autograph… we would like to take a bit of everything you can recommend us. We are going to do a picnic and want to try everything that it’s different”.

“But please add a bit of those gorgeous strawberries, they look yummy”said the girl next to him “ and what it’s that?” she pointed to a pink yet green round fruit.

“That is pink mango, very famous around this island. She is sweeter than the normal ones you found, actually there are over 24 different types of mango around the south territory, but right now we only have this one. But we’ll be getting more around monday morning if you guys are interest.” He gave them a time to think if they wanted to buy it or not.

“I love mango. Put 3 of these, please.” Harry said giving a genuine smile, everybody knows how much he loves fruit… among other stuff that could be fruit related. He saw a small fruit, that looked like a cherry but it had this red/orange to it’s tone and it wasn’t completely round, so he asked: “Sol, what is this type of cherry?”

“Oh that one? That it’s pitanga. This fruit smells like trees and something sweet that takes you back to your childhood, if you lived on this island” he laughed like he was remembering a distant memory inside of his green eyes but continued soon afterward his little journey through memory lane “My mother used to say this fruit it’s like when you fall in love at first sight: first comes the infatuation, the smell that reminds you there is so much good in the world and all of the good is all in one person. Then, when you first bite to it, first it has a sour taste, like when you get insecure about first kissing someone, but they, you get the courage and kisses them… and it’s amazing and sweet.”

Well Harry didn’t need more and said:

“Give me 12 strawberries, a few limes so we can make drinks, those mangos,a bit of that gelly that looks yummy, and half a pound of those pitangas”

“All done. That is going to be 25 and 75 cents” Both Harry and the girl tried to pay the guy, in the end, she ended up paying, earning a glare from Harry and looking at him like saying ‘what’. The boy returned with the change and the piece of paper for the autograph, Harry signed told him he would be back monday morning to get those other types of mangos and he could bring his sisters if he wanted to,he would gladly meet the girls.

They said their goodbyes and continued their walking, now holding hands without questioning.

“You know out of all those fruits the one I’m more excited to taste it’s this pitanga one” she told Harry.

“Me too”

He knew she was talking more than just the fruit.

And so was him.

With the sound of ocean and the winds in a mix with people chatter, they walked through the fair. Stopping for a quick lunch (some natural sandwiches with coconut water to wash it down) they looked around a vintage music store.

“It’s getting late, I wanna go back to the house if you don’t mind… get some sleep so I’m not tired when it’s time for our little luau” she said looking at him with tiresome eyes “oh maybe I’ll dress like a little witch!!!! So we can perform a little moon ritual”

That put a smile in Harry’s face.

“You know Stevie would actually love this”

“I can’t help getting a bit starstruck every time you mention Stevie Nicks”

“I get starstruck every time I remember that I’m actually her friend... it’s inevitable, she is a legend and an amazing human being”

They were walking and talking about Stevie Nicks and Harry was telling her all about the first time Stevie listened to Fine Line and by the time they got close to their bikes. Just like yesterday, Harry was ready to pay for their bikes parking lot but she was not having it. He was always paying for every little thing (the first time she got to pay anything was the fresh fruits just a few hours ago). So she looked at him when he was lost looking at the turquose sea and just ran away towards the bike.

She heard his scream- a soft loud HEY - and just when she was reaching for the bikes she felt two arms wrap around her waist and pull her out of the way. But they both lost their balance, falling towards the wall of bricks next to the bikes. Her head hit the wall a little bit to harshly makig her let out a low “oh” all that while he crushed her into the same wall.

Puting his hand in fits next to her face, Harry took his face off and lowered to be abble to look at the pretty girl in the eyes. He noticed she was standing on her toes to get closer to him, if he took a deep breath he could smell her perfume, a mix of peach and tangerine. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had never been as close to her as he were now. Harry was abble to see how beautiful eyes eyes were when the sun was high up in the sky and his face too close, he could see how her eyebrows had a thin yet natural draw or how her cupid bow were a little bit more colored than the rest of her lips. He could listen to the wind, bringing a message from the ocean: “it’s time to kiss her, you fool”.

He took her messy hair from her eyes, cradling her face in on hand while the other was kept on the wall, so he could have a sense of what was real. It was the perfect moment.

Or not.

Time simply wasn’t on Harry’s side, as he thought. Because someone started to yell at him in a language he couldn’t pinpoint the country, maybe Russia because of how pale was the old couple looked. They were point at the bikes and yelling at them, people were looking and she was blushing.

“I think they want to park their bikes and we’re on their way” she told him “maybe we should just go home.

🍄

The sun was now close to say it’s farewell for the day. While Harry was busy making a nice playlist (and also giving himself a talk: “you are going to kiss her tonight”. Maybe if started to say all the time like a mantra in would come true). She was making the perfect ambience for a beach party for two. Opening in the sand a round beach towel with lots of candles for when the only light in the sky was the moon and stars. The fruits all in pretty plates made out of wood and she also melted dark chocolate - it would look cool with the strawberries.

The sky was a mix of pretty colors: pink and purple and orange and everything that would make a perfect painting .

She was using this old seventies skirt from her mother (a tie dye skirt with all the colors of the rainbow) and a Stevie Nicks shirt she stole from Harry the night before to sleep. Her hair was falling from her face, dancing with the wind just as her skirt.

It was that moment that Harry made his appearance: his safe sex shirt, yellow shorts, barefoot, no rings. Smiling at her, she thought she looked like he looked like a prince out of every seventies groupies fantasies.

Harry was holding this old radio and in his hand there was a mixtape. Only Harry would come up with the idea of using this old radio that her aunt left at the house as a source for playlist making. Spotify playlist just wasn’t enough if he wanted impress her. In the words of his friend Rob Sheffield: “mixtapes are like pictures but with sound”.

And Harry was planing of making this evening a picture he would always remember with lovin’ care.

“Doesn’t he looks handsome” she walked towards him to help him with settled everything he brought down. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was blushing.

“The seeds are ready if we want to try it now” Harry said changing the subject.

“Let’s go. It takes half an hour to kick and till then we can talk some more”

The seeds didn’t have any taste, almost like any pill you wash down with water.

“Wanna eat one of those fresh fruits?” He said getting a piece of de the pitanga “quite anxious to try this one” he said getting one of the small pitanga fruits.

At first bite it was quite bitter, he was glad Sol had told him about that. But the more he ate, the sweater it got. It was something he couldn’t describe.

“So what do you think?” She asked.

“The explanation that Sol gave to us it’s the best one. It changes taste the more you get used to it. The same is with feelings, right?”

She smiled at him and opened her mouth: “give me some then….” He got one of the fruits and feed her. But he didn’t take his hands of her, leaving there so he could feel her neck veins move with her chewing.

“It’s so sweet in the end… almost like an orgasm”. Harry was fucked.

The time passed and they talked about anything and everything. The sun was almost all the way down as they looked over the horizon.

“So… is it starting to hit for you? ” she asked with a coy smile while getting herself more of the fruits.

He saw her red lips curve around the fruit and suddenly everything was changing colors. The world was red as the fruit she was (so deliciously) tasting. Red like the passion he was beginning to feel for this carefree girl. But she... she was golden. Her aura was just shining through her.

It’s no secret he falls in love with people with golden aura- Stevie has said so herself when he first showed her his second album - and she is shining so much he thought the sun had come down to earth.

Maybe she was the sun, even if it the stars were starting to take their place high in the sky, she was sunshine. His sunshine. It’s never night when she’s around.

“You know, it’s starting to hit”

“And how do you know that?”

“You’re golden”

She laughed at him

“Are you quoting to me a song you wrote about another woman, Styles?”

“No. It’s your aura. It’s shining. And is golden”

That left her with no answer.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Seeing anything?”

She could see the rainbow inside his eyes. She was always attached to everything that was colorful, from a young age. And right now there was this rainbow of lights playing with her vision. And it was all because of this beautiful young man standing right in front of her.

“Yeah, I think I can see everything” happy with her mysterious answer, she looked at the ocean. The waves were moving slow and in pretty rhythm, inviting her to dance together.

Today all of the nature was rooting for them. Getting another pitanga she could feel the sour before the sweet. Giving her body chills. She looked at him and those chills only got stronger but so was her bravery: “will you dance with me?” she asked.

“Well... of course young maiden I shall dance with you” he laughed at his own joke while getting up and offering his hand.

In that moment their worlds collided: their hand were glued together seeding all of different feels from one body to another. They didn’t need to talk to understand: there was a feeling of belonging neither of them never felt even if once they thought they did. This was a moment once in a lifetime: the moment you look at someone and you see them slightly different from one minute ago. When all of the puzzles pieces starts to make sense: what they were feeling from the moment they got on this island wasn’t only attraction it was months of friendship that intertwined them towards something stronger. Something they knew it was blooming inside their chest. Something new, something exciting.

Something beautiful.

He twirled her in his arms and then let her rest her head in his chest, right where his heart was beating so loud and fast, just for her.

“You know it feels like the world is almost too much right now” Harry heard her say “it seems like there are more sound than before, the ocean is actually a song ya comes together with your heartbeat and when you touch me it feels like there is a more to than just a simple touch, like it’s your souls that’s touching me, you know?” He starts to caress her right arm with the tip of his finger, he wanted her to feel more of whatever this she was describing. “Or maybe that’s just the seeds talking but it just feels like something I never had before”

God, she looked beautiful right now blushing with all the glitter around her and her lips red from all the fruits.

It’s time.

“I wanna taste those pitanga lips. Can I?” He asks while still caressing her arms with the tips of his fingers, getting her dizzy and seeing everything with light tones of pink, just like the shirt he wore to the street fair. She wants so much that in a moment of pure infatuation she raises her hand, feeling his chestnut curls, looking into his green eyes that looked almost a dark blue due to the lighting and finally she answered:

“Anytime. Everywhere. Anywhere”

He gave her a soft kind of fucked up smile, getting a good grasp of her hair and pulling her towards his mouth.

She spent so much of her time wondering how does Harry Styles kisses but nothing could get her ready to what she felt in that moment. His lips were a bit chapped because of the sun and the weather, they both were a bit clumsy because they couldn’t feel their faces but the soft touch of his tongue contrasting with tight grasp he had on her hair was making her body feel like it was part of the sand they were standing while he was the ocean, one doesn’t belong without the other, in a painting they would always be together and if that kiss was any indication... so would be their lives.

He gave her a small bite on the lips and laughed: “I’m so sorry, I can’t feel my lips” and she started to giggle because she couldn’t feel a lot, but she could feel him. All of him.

“I’m so glad we finally kissed” she said in a whisper. He looked inside of her eyes before putting his eyes right on her left cheek and flicking his eye lashes while she was having a fit with laughter... everything was too much in their state of mind. And this little touch made her feel like Harry has been tickling her soft skin for hours.

“If you’re so glad that we kissed... you wouldn’t mind if we kissed a bit more, right?” He said in a sensual whisper in her ear while giving little bites.

She pulled him by his hair in a hungry attack. Moaning into his mouth. Sucking his tongue. Smiling when they took small break.

They were standing, her on the tip of her toes, trying to reach him but Harry had other plans, whispering a small “come here” he took her by the waist and made her jump so he could walk back to the beach towel and sit down with her on his lap.

With Harry’s hips between her knees, that wasn’t a inch to separate them. All of their bodies were touching and each particle inside of them was screaming in delight. The feeling of having someone near when the mind is in such a state of inebriation was out of this world. It was paradise.

But maybe their state of mind is just a plus because Harry is pretty sure it could be 10 am on a Sunday and she would make him feel the same way he was feeling now: completely in bliss, in a hypnotic state of mind because of her pitanga lips and the warm energy. She was his sun, his warmth when they would feel could. A little piece of magic after so much pain in love. And Harry couldn’t deny anymore: he was falling.

She stopped kissing him and decided to give small kisses in his neck and every time he moaned she would increase the strength of this kiss.

Harry was quite literally seeing stars, but not only the ones in the sky. He was seeing the stars coming together in a show: each constellation was dancing on its own circle of star friends. And there were always changing color: pink, golden, red, silver.

They were dancing in a celebration because two stars that were meant to be were finally coming together as one.

That was the moment that Harry decided that he wanted more. He pulled her out of his neck and asked: “I love that you are wearing my old shirt but there is nothing more in this world that I would love more than being able to see you without it. Can I?”

Her response was clear: raising her hands above her hand, the - now- moonlight caressing her form when Harry took her shirt off. She was perfect, every little thing about her was just so her, from the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra to how she had this little moon necklace and a little citrine stone resting right on her heart.

He didn’t want to lose more time, he started to give little pecks on her nipples and when Harry heard a moan and a whisper saying “finally” he just went ahead and took the everything he could from her chest inside his mouth while his hand was playing with her right breast and his other hand was supporting her back so she wouldn’t fall off his lap.

She was seeing stars, she could feel everything and anything. His mouth was powerful, like he knew all the buttons to push and that was only the beginning. Moving her hips in circle movements she started to moan more loudly. Using one hand to pull his hair and grinding faster on his growing dick and finally earning a full on moan from her she took his head of her chest and said “I need you, please take off your clothes”

She didn’t have to say more. After this they disrobed so fast they didn’t knew they were able. Now, completely naked, she looked at Harry with a mischievous look and went back to his lap, but before she could do anymore than that, Harry stopped her, using his force to manhandle her body to a lay down position “I promise you that I will be inside you in a moment, but first, I need to taste you, I need to hear your moans and know that’s all because of me, all because of my tongue”

She lost her power to speak but she was pretty sure she kind of screamed “yes” without intending to.

Harry spread her open and looked at the mess that was between her legs. He did loved tasting the pitanga. But he was pretty sure that nothing would compare to the taste of her.

He took his finger and started to pass lightly through the inside of her right thigh and she was trembling already “this seeds are making me more sensible fuck” he heard whisper. Smirking he answered her: “oh so this is all the seeds and not me? Pet, you are breaking my heart now”.

In a revenge he took the same finger that was caressing her thigh and passed from her opening to her clit without any warning.

“Fuck fuck FUCK please just touch me already. My whole body is burning in flames all I can see is a burning flame” he decided to end her suffering. Taking his thumb and lazily caressing her clit in slow but strong circles.

“Are you happy now, Pet”

“Yes but please, give me more”

In a responde Harry took his tongue and licked her right on her clit and started to use the tip of his finger to tease her entrance.

Her moans started to get louder and Harry didn’t have a care anymore, just her taste. That’s the only thing that matters.

While his lips were sucking and licking her clit his finger were working inside of her. When he wanted to change he would put his finger in her clit and would go to her pretty hole and use his tongue to tease her.

Every time he saw she was getting closer to her orgasm, he would stop what he was doing and would just use the tip of his finger to tease her while he kissed her thigh. When her breathing was back to a more concentrated peace he would get back to give her everything he could with his tongue and finger.

And that went on for a while: lips, tongue, fingers. Saw her getting close? Stopped for a while.

When he was doing the pattern for the third time she signed: “I need to come, please let me come?”

Harry wasn’t doing this to be mean, he just wanted to be the only thing she could feel and see. Wanted this to be so good she would never want to be away from him again. And when he saw her trembling lips and eyes full of tear he new she has enough, so he moved his finger in a “come here” motion while she was wetting and wetting more and more his hand, dripping down to the towel and her screams were so loud that if there was a single soul in the almost private beach, he was sure they could listen.

When she was done he took his finger off of her linking each one of them while patiently waiting so she could get back to her state of mind and tell him what she wanted next.

“Hey, there is a condom in the fruit basket” she said

“You dirty little thing, were you planning all of this?” Harry said taking the condom and opening carefully.

“No but I had my hopes up”

She looked so perfect with the sweat on her body dancing around the moonlight, he smiled and asked sweetly: “how do you want me?”

“I want you on top, want to be able to look inside your eyes” He wanted that, too.

“Your wish is my command” whispered Harry while settling on top of her. He stroked her face with one arm supported beside her hand. “Are you ready for me” She nodded with starry eyes and asked:

“And you, are you ready for me?”

Harry guided himself inside her, getting his mouth closer to her left ear and whispered like it was a secret and she was the only one who had the right to hear: “I have been ready for you my whole life” and then he was inside of her. While she was breathing hard, he was whispering sweet nothing in her ear, trying to calm himself, he wanted this to last.

“You can move, you know” that was all Harry needed to start to pick up his pace, making sure every time he came closer to her his pubic bone would caress her clit. She was whimpering and he was completely hers.

He picked her leg up on his shoulder and said: “I need…. fuck…. I need to get closer to you”. She was feeling all of him stretching her a little bit more every time he pushed himself inside of her. Hitting her g spot so perfectly she was seeing stars - and this time was all because of him, not the seeds.

Her body was on fire and the delicious warmth was starting to form in the pit of her stomach. She was going to come again, and she was going to come hard.

“Come on, baby. I can feel you squeezing me so hard. I know you wanna come. I need to feel it” Harry said, his movements becoming each time more out of rhythm, chasing his own peak.

Bringing his hand to her clit, it was only three flicks of his fingers till she was shaking and her eyes were closing. Her mouth forming a delicious smile, one full of satisfaction. And it was watching her come that Harry felt his need to come as well. Closing his eyes and feeling his whole body shake with release.

The only thing surrounding Harry was her. Her name. Her smell. The feeling of her. Everything was her.

When their breathing was back to a normal rhythm and the moon and stars were high in sky, Harry looked over her naked body laid down on all the towels, surrounded by fruits and golden from the candle lights. He was starting to sober up and there was so much he wanted to tell her, but he settled for one single sentence:

“You are a wonderful creation” he told her.

“Look at you quoting Dorian Gray to me!” She said smiling lightly “Do you remember that was the first dm I ever sent you? Telling you to read that book.”

“Of course I remember. I remember everything you ever said to me” he started laughing with the memory “you know, after that message I went running to the closest book store? I wanted to do anything to have a reason to talk to you, even if it was just a dm. I wanted you to think of me all the time, because since that moment I saw you on that raining afternoon my heart started to beat in synchrony with yours” now it’s time to say everything, before it’s too late “you know I’m falling for you right?”

She looked at him like he was the brightest star in the night.

“I know, I’m falling in love with you too” she told him while laying her her on his chest and started to trace the butterfly tattoo “And now?”

“Now I think I have a new song about another fruit to write”. They both started to smile, sealing the deal. She got another pitanga and popped into her mouth and he smiled. He was happy.

#harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry x reader #harry styles friends to lovers #summer fic challenge

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tiramisiyu · 3 years

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Main Story 7-9 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 7 – Rains of Monte Cristo: 7-1 / 7-3 / 7-5 / 7-7 / 7-9 / 7-11 / 7-13 / 7-15 / 7-17 / 7-19 ♦️ ♦️ 7-20 / 7-22 / 7-24 / 7-26 / 7-28 / 7-30 / 7-32 / 7-34 / 7-35

Yan Wei’s news was truly shocking.

Zuo Ran: When was the corpse discovered?

Yan Wei: Past midnight the day before yesterday. Patrol boats fished it up.

Zuo Ran: Is the cause of death confirmed?

Yan Wei: There were assault wounds on Xu Ping’s head, and there were binding marks on his wrists. According to the forensics anatomical results…

Yan Wei: After being knocked unconscious from the back via assault to his head, he was tied to heavy items and thrown into the sea.

Zuo Ran: Aside from these, were any other indications left?

Yan Wei: The corpse was soaking in the sea for too long, and most indications have already disappeared.

Zuo Ran: Has the place where he fell into the sea been confirmed?

Yan Wei: Yes. It’s around this position.

Yan Wei turned on his phone, opening a map of the nature park.

Yan Wei: Based on the corpse’s state of decay, and the direction and speed of sea water flow…

Yan Wei: Xu Ping fell into the sea from the peak of this mountain on the north side of the nature park.

Zuo Ran: Then do you know who pushed him down?

Yan Wei: This is where the issue lies. This north area is an unopened region.

Yan Wei: People don’t go there, and there’s no surveillance.

Yan Wei: We looked at the surveillance records of the main entrance and didn’t notice anyone suspicious. People in the unit suspect…

Yan Wei: The murderer might have left from this abandoned door on the northeastern side.

Zuo Ran: Is that so…

Zuo Ran: At what time was Xu Ping murdered?

Yan Wei: Combining the corpse’s anatomical information and Xu Ping’s final trail of movement…

Yan Wei: The current inferred time is around the time where he was reported as missing, which would be between January 27th and 29th.

Zuo Ran: …

Zuo Ran: I understand the situation. I’ll go take a look at the inferred crime location.

Zuo Ran: Leader Yan, thank you for telling me this.

Lu Jinghe’s Art Studio

After sending off Xu Yin, since Yan Wei was temporarily away from the office, our meeting with Wang Chunchong was pushed back by two hours.

Thus, Lu Jinghe and I went to his studio to rest for a bit and make some preparations for the meeting afterwards.

As I was organizing the case files, I thought back on what Xu Yin said.

MC: Lu Jinghe, do you think Xu Yin and Wang Chunchong really know information about Qin Shan and Heirson?

Lu Jinghe: As Wang Chunchong has the voice recording as proof, with his relation with Qin Shan, it’s highly likely that it’s true.

Lu Jinghe tugged gently at his tie.

Likely because he’d arrived at his “comfort zone”, he gradually relaxed from the serious manner he had when meeting with Xu Yin earlier.

Lu Jinghe: But Xu Yin… I feel like she doesn’t know much useful information.

Lu Jinghe: When she was talking about how much she knew about Qin Shan, it probably it was to make us agree to help her.

MC: Based on this, Xu Yin probably doesn’t know about the investigation team’s matters.

Lu Jinghe: Correct.

MC: But for us, we got a lot out of this time.

MC: Aside from himself, Wang Chunchong’s case also involves Hang Jiahe.

MC: Using the case investigation as a reason to get in contact with them is an easy and indetectable method for us.

Lu Jinghe: Yeah… for this, we should thank Xu Yin.

Lu Jinghe: Alright, let’s stop talking about that. How’s reading the files going?

Lu Jinghe: Have you thought about how you’ll question Wang Chunchong in a moment?

MC: Pretty much.

MC: Based on the investigation report, the evidence that the police used to charge Wang Chunchong – aside from the ones that Xu Yin previously mentioned…

MC: There’s another crucial one, which is Wang Chunchong’s crime motive.

MC: Regarding this, the report only mentioned that Wang Chunchong got into a dispute with Hang Fei and his wife regarding Hang Jiahe’s betrothal gift.

MC: After, we need to ask in detail regarding the police and Wang Chunchong’s exact situation.

Lu Jinghe: Is that so…

MC: The police’s inferred process of Wang Chunchong’s murdering also requires heavy scrutiny.

MC: Also, proof that Hang Jiahe, who has a close relationship with Hang Fei and Qi Yu, was not at the scene needs to be verified.

MC: After all, betrothal gifts is not the matter of a single person. Hang Jiahe’s attitude regarding this matter is still unclear.

MC: If she stood on Wang Chunchong’s side, then she would also have a motive for murder.

MC: For now, I’m preparing to use these questions as the major questioning points.

Lu Jinghe: Then have you noticed anything wrong with the pieces of evidence that Xu Yin mentioned?

MC: It doesn’t seem like there are any problems with the source of the hammer and drugs, but the nature park’s surveillance video…

MC: You also saw before that the video only recorded the park’s entrance. There’s nothing regarding what happens after one enters the park.

MC: From a strict perspective, one can’t confirm Wang Chunchong’s movements in the park.

MC: This is also an issue that requires focus.

Lu Jinghe: Pretty good – finding this many issues and questioning points in such little time, as expected of the lawyer jiejie.

MC: You praise me in excess, CEO Lu. This is merely the “sensitivity” I should have as a lawyer.

MC: Plus, I feel like you’re more amazing than me.

MC: Not only were you able to infer Xu Yin’s goal and thought process…

MC: At the restaurant earlier, when you were talking to her, you intentionally raised your tone to lead her on, right?

Lu Jinghe: *sigh*…

Lu Jinghe sighed, half helplessly and half pitifully.

Lu Jinghe: Sometimes, I really wish you weren’t this smart.

Lu Jinghe: You see through everything, so how am I supposed to show my intelligent, handsome image in front of you and heighten your favour for me?

MC: ???

MC: Ahem… what are you talking about…

Lu Jinghe: What’s the matter, are you… feeling shy?

MC: …

Lu Jinghe: Alright, I won’t tease you anymore. You guessed right, I was doing that on purpose earlier.

Lu Jinghe: Xu Yin’s “battled” in the business world for many years, and her alertness is much higher than typical people.

Lu Jinghe: Typically, when such people are in unfavourable situations, they will opt to not make any movements for the moment and watch for changes.

Lu Jinghe: But as soon as we met today, Xu Yin spoke up first before you and me, seeing to be in a particular rush to display her sincerity.

Lu Jinghe: Why would she do so? There is only one possible reason.

MC: She wants to be the active one in this discussion and turn things from her disadvantages?

Lu Jinghe: Indeed. And the fact that she has the confidence to do so is due to now she believes she holds a bargaining chip that can be used to negotiate with us and wanted to battle with us.

Lu Jinghe: But before true negotiations started, she had to confirm whether her bargaining chip would be effective.

Lu Jinghe: So she specifically brought up her relation with Hang Jiahe, using this to observe our reaction.

Lu Jinghe: Since she’s worked so hard, then I’ll give her a “hint” to see what she knows.

MC: (No wonder – when Xu Yin was talking to me, she looked towards Lu Jinghe instead.)

Lu Jinghe: But in the end, I merely lifted my tone by a bit, and Xu Yin just told me everything.

MC: To be able to figure out such a precise method to handle Xu Yin – Lu Jinghe, you really are worthy of your name!

Lu Jinghe: There are lots of people like this in the business word. Xu Yin’s not that big of a deal; I’ve encountered people who are even harder to handle than her.

MC: People who are harder to handle… then you…

Lu Jinghe: Don’t worry – who am I, after all? I’m Lu Jinghe. Who can pull anything off against me?

MC: Pfft…

Lu Jinghe: What’re you laughing at?

MC: Nothing, I just felt like it’s been a long while since I saw your “overbearing CEO” side. It feels a little reminiscent.

Lu Jinghe: Oh? Looks like you quite like my “overbearing CEO” side.

Lu Jinghe: Ugh… if I knew you liked those earlier, I wouldn’t have played an understanding, good little brother.

MC: (That’s too much… Master Lu… that’s too much…)

Lu Jinghe: Haha, I was just joking to liven up the atmosphere.

Lu Jinghe: Looks like it’s almost about time. I’m going to change clothes, and after, we can head to the police station.

Lu Jinghe: Having to wear a suit when I’m not even at work – it really isn’t comfortable at all.

Lu Jinghe got up and walked towards the inner room.

Five minutes later, Lu Jinghe walked out again, wearing that suit still.

MC: Weren’t you going to change? Why are you still in the suit?

Lu Jinghe: Uh… could you help me?

MC: What’s the matter?

Lu Jinghe: There’s a button on my shirt that I haven’t been able to unfasten, for whatever reason. Could you help me see what’s the matter?

MC: Button?

Only then did I realize that Lu Jinghe was holding onto his shirt, looking extremely distressed.

MC: Let me see. Did it get entangled in thread?

I got near Lu Jinghe.

Lu Jinghe: How is it, can you see the issue?

MC: It is indeed tangled in the thread. I’m guessing that you accidentally looped it on somewhere.

MC: Don’t move just yet, I’ll untangle the thread for you.

Lu Jinghe: Ah… okay.

Lu Jinghe went silent.

I delicately untangled the thread in front of me, but I didn’t know why…

Through the thin shirt, I could feel that Lu Jinghe’s body felt somewhat stiff.

MC: Lu Jinghe, what’s the matter? Are you tired?

Lu Jinghe: N-no…

MC: Then why’s your body this stiff?

Lu Jinghe: *sigh*…

Lu Jinghe: Asking me why I’m stiff – jiejie, you sure aren’t great at reading the mood.

MC: ???

Lu Jinghe: Look up at me.

Following his instructions, I lifted my head.

Lu Jinghe’s smile was suddenly magnified in front of me. He gazed at me, a smile floating in his dark irises.

A breeze blew past, and a familiar, cool scent hit my face.

MC: …

My hands stopped moving unconsciously, and I did nothing more than look back at Lu Jinghe.

Lu Jinghe: …

As if he didn’t expect my reaction, Lu Jinghe froze, then smiled.

Lu Jinghe: Don’t you feel like our actions and atmosphere right now feel a little fantastical?

MC: What?

Lu Jinghe: Look, with our position right now, I am the only one in your eyes, and you are the only one in mine.

Lu Jinghe: There’s sunlight and birdsong outside the window, and around you and me…

Lu Jinghe: There’s no strife and no trouble. The only tiny “issue” was one you’ve already easily solved…

Lu Jinghe: This feeling of calm, happy times feels like we have lived together for very long already…

MC: !!!

I suddenly retracted my hand.

MC: L-Lu Jinghe, what are you talking about?!

Lu Jinghe: I was just expressing my view, why so agitated?

Lu Jinghe: Could you have been thinking the same as me? And what I said was exactly what you were thinking?

MC: W-who’s thinking the same as you? Don’t speak nonsense…

Lu Jinghe: Really? Then why were you looking at me the whole time?

MC: I… I…

MC: R-right, weren’t you going to change? The button’s already been untangled, so hurry off.

Unable to explain my strange actions just now, I could only muddle through with a random excuse.

Lu Jinghe: *laugh*…

Lu Jinghe: Okay, I’ll go now.

Lu Jinghe: Just be good and wait here for me.

#Tears of Themis #tears of themis translations #zuo ran #lu jinghe #artem wing #marius von hagen #未定事件簿 #tot translation #LJH is..... really charming dsjkfhdsjk

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thorne93 · 3 years

Text

The Stars Made Us (Part 28)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 2741

Warnings: angst and language throughout, seizure/medical complications

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong and @arrow-guy and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over a month had gone by since Stephen so painfully sent you away. Your work had picked up after a week and you went back to business as usual. You fell back into your role in the mansion quickly and easily and when no one was around, that's when you let yourself grieve the loss of your love with Stephen.

It was getting slightly better with time. And a large part of that was due to Charles. He was practically worshiping you every day. He surprised you with flowers quite a bit, cooked for you every now and then, took you to restaurants, made picnics. He bought you a few pieces of art you'd been eyeing. He even gave you foot rubs after the end of your long days.

He was your saving grace.

The two of you felt as if time hadn't passed at all for you. There was no lull in returning to your romantic lives together. You still loved him with all of your heart and nothing had changed that, not even the issues with Stephen.

One day, while you were working on a report for work, you got a call. You frowned, not recognizing the number, but picked it up anyway.

"Hello?"

"Y/N? It's Wong. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Wong, how are you?" you wondered, extremely worried as to why he was calling. You told him only to call you if there were issues with Stephen.

"I'm okay, but Strange isn't. He's... Well he's not himself."

"Isn't that a good thing?" you joked.

Of course, Wong didn't respond with any kind of laughter.

"In this case, no," he informed.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Well he took the position as protector of the New York Sanctum."

"Mhm."

"He's doing that fine, he's just not... You might just want to see for yourself."

"Wong, I told you to call for emergencies. If he's just in a bad mood--"

"He won't talk," he said. "He always had something to say before. Some joke, some horrible crack to make. Now, he doesn't speak. He talks to me about the sanctum, but that's it."

You frowned. That was unusual.

"I'd like to help, Wong, I would, but Stephen cast me out. He doesn't want me around."

"I don't know what he told you before, but he lied. The moment you left, it was like someone drained the life force out of him. I've been sending him new books to learn, to keep up with his training, but when I check in on him, it's like he's in a fog. He hasn't read, or what he has read, he doesn't retain."

You chewed on your lip. "Okay, I'll see what I can do. New York sanctum?"

"Yes, he's there 24/7, never leaves."

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

You got home that night and Charles greeted you cheerily, as he always did. Kissing you sweetly before showing you to the dinner he had made. Hank was working late tonight out at a military base.

"I got a call today," you informed as you began to pick around the roast beef on your plate.

"Oh? Who from?"

"Wong."

Charles stilled momentarily, and he hoped you didn't catch it, but you did. He went back to eating.

"What'd he have to say?"

"He wants me to come see Stephen."

Charles put his fork down and gave you his full attention. "Has something happened? Is he alright?" he asked, concerned.

"I think he's okay mentally. He told me that I suppose he can't focus, that he's a bit of an emotional wreck." You sounded almost confused. "Why, I don't know, he's the one that sent me away."

"Do you want to go to him?" he asked softly.

You chewed your lip. "I don't know. Yes, and no. I want to see him. I want to make him feel better. I want to talk about why he was cruel. But I also can't take it again if he just turns me away, if he's as hateful as he always is when it comes to me."

"You know I support you either way?" he said as he reached across the table and held your hand.

You nodded, fighting back tears. "I know, and I love you for it."

"What does your gut say?" he inquired, staring at you with those dreamy blue eyes that made you melt.

"I feel like I want to see him, but..."

"But what? Talk to me," he urged.

You pressed your lips together, worried about what you were about to tell him. "I love him too. I don't want to have to choose."

He nodded. "I know, my dove. While I would be over the moon if you were mine, and mine alone, I also understand that the universe has granted you two souls to love, and two souls to love you back. When you made visits to me from Nepal, that felt quite alright. Of course I'd rather have you here, but if you need to split your time between us, I understand and support that."

Happy tears went down your cheek as you peered at him.

"Thank you so much."

"Of course, darling. I would never, ever, make you choose. Whatever your heart desires, it's yours."

You got up and went to hug him. He hugged you back, tightly, pulling you into his lap. You were crying, kissing him, and hugging him. The stars truly blessed you when you got Charles Xavier as your mate.

The next morning, you decided to make your way into the city to see Stephen. You had no idea what you'd find, what you would say or do, what he would say or do. All you wanted to ask, was why he made you leave, so forcefully, when everything seemed so perfect.

While you were driving to the sanctum, you were white knuckling the whole way. You were so nervous about seeing him again, nervous that he'd turn you away.

You arrived at the sanctum, sucking in a breath before knocking. You could feel yourself break out in a cold sweat, your heart hammering in your chest.

The door opened and you saw Stephen. His eyes narrowed quickly, taken aback by your presence.

He looked so much more beautiful than you remembered. His cuts from the fight had healed. Surprisingly, when you saw him, happiness flooded you. You didn't think that would happen.

"Y/N?"

"Hi, Stephen. Can I come in?" you asked.

"Uh, sure." He moved out of the way and invited you in, where you stood at the bottom of those large stairs.

"I see you got the place all cleaned up," you remarked.

"Yeah, uh, Wong helped. Mordo quit the program. After he learned about the Ancient One's power, he felt like he'd been lied to," he informed.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. But you're sticking around?"

"I am. I had an encounter that made me see that you and Christine were right about me saving lives that doesn't require a medical degree."

You smiled slightly. "I'm glad to hear that. Whatever makes you happy. Um, Kaecilius, is he?"

"Dead. Him and his followers. We sort of gave them up to Dormammu."

"That dark entity? You encountered him?"

He gave a slight laugh. "That's one way to put it, yeah."

"What happened?" you inquired, pressing him for more information.

"Long story short, we went to Hong Kong. I had to use the eye of Agmatto to turn back time, to fix things, to bring Wong back. We realized that if we did that though, we'd only have to keep fighting Kaecilius. So, we went after the source, or rather, I did."

You took a step closer to him. "Stephen, what did you do?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes staring into yours. "I faced Dormammu."

"You did what?" you gasped. "How--How did you survive? What did you do? Jesus, Stephen."

"You used to have so much faith in me," he quipped with a smirk.

"And I still do, but I don't approve of anyone putting themselves in the line of danger."

"I had to."

"What'd you do?"

"I... I created a time loop, and trapped him in it endlessly. He killed me, over, and over, but the time loop reset. Basically, I annoyed him so much that he agreed to leave Earth alone."

"That sounds about right. You pestering a dark entity so much that they beg you to leave them alone. Only the great Dr. Stephen Strange could do that." You gave a weak smile. "What did the Ancient One do? Was she helpful? Did she give you the idea to do that or...?"

"She... she died. We were fighting Kaecilius and she fell from a great height and hit the ground. She died before we ever went to Hong Kong to fight. She was the reason I decided to stick around, do something more meaningful with my life."

"I see... I'm so sorry. I'm sure that wasn't easy," you said, starting to reach towards him but then you began to lower your arm.

He grabbed your hand and held it in his. "I've missed you," he suddenly confessed.

"And I you."

In a shaky voice, he said, "I missed you so much, I, uh, I came to visit you."

"Was I not home?"

"Uh, you didn't know I came by," he informed. "I used my astral form."

You nodded slowly. "You spied on me?"

"No, not quite. I just... I came by to make sure you were okay. I went once to your work. I went another time to your home."

"You did? But why?"

"Because I missed you so much," he said, his voice thick as tears came to his eyes. He smiled down at you before his hand came up to rest against your neck, his thumb stroking your chin. "I'm so sorry I invaded your privacy, I just had to see you. I had to know how you were doing."

You let out a sigh. "And what did you find?"

He let out a bit of a sigh, the tears now rolling down his cheeks. "I saw you, standing at your bedroom window. It was pouring down rain. Charles was in bed, fast asleep. You were standing at the window, talking to yourself."

You sighed, your own tears now. You remembered that night.

"What... what did you hear?" you managed to ask before taking a deep breath.

"I heard you asking yourself why I made you leave. I heard you asking why I didn't want you any more. I heard you asking what you'd done. I heard you churning it over and over in my mind what happened. It broke my heart to see you that way. To see what I'd done to you."

You took a deep breath. "Uh, um, but if you have missed me, why did you leave me? Why did you kick me out of your life?" you asked, shaking your head. "I mean if it really killed you to see me that way, why not just come visit me in your normal body and talk to me? Tell me what happened? How do you go from telling me I was just one giant distraction to caring about me? You told me you wanted him out of your life and then you come and see me? That doesn't make any sense. What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," he assured, smiling at me as he cried. Both of his hands were resting on either side of your face. "You did absolutely nothing wrong. You did everything right. That was the problem."

You were crying more now, shaking your head. "I don't understand."

"I... I pushed you away because I saw you almost die, protecting me. You almost died because of a situation I put us directly in. You were pinned to the floor by a blade. You bled out and passed out next to me. You carried me to a hospital to my ex lover. You put everything aside, just to protect and save me. When I saw you and I saw how determined you were to get back and help me, but I felt so responsible. I had to kill a man to protect both of us. You nearly died. I didn't want that again. I don't want to put you in that position, ever again."

"I'd do it, happily, though," you informed, staring up at him.

"I know," he said, laughing slightly. "That's what the issue is. You're so ready to do so much for everyone else, and I can't risk that."

You looked down, feeling your heart break all over again.

"But I can't live without you either," he said, dipping his face slightly so he could see your eyes.

You looked up at him, surprised. "Me either. I've been thinking about you non-stop. For the life of me, I can't figure it out but I miss your smart-assed comments."

"Y/N, I love you."

"I love you," you said.

The two of you searched each other's eyes before you threw your arms around his neck and you collided your lips with his. Feeling alive again at the feeling of it. He kissed you back fervently, holding you close to him.

"Be with me," he requested when he let you go.

You nodded, feeling a light growing inside you. "I can do that. That's easy. Charles already said that he doesn't mind sharing if that's what I want."

He shook his head. "No, I-- I mean just be mine."

You took a step back from him. "Stephen, I--"

"Hear me out," he begged. "What if... What if the universe got it wrong? What if Charles isn't your soulmate? Or what if he's supposed to be your first but I'm supposed to be your last? Maybe there's a reason he and I showed up at the times we did."

"I--I don't think..." You shook your head, letting go of him. "No, that can't be right. It's not right," you affirmed.

"How do you know that? You don't. No one knows anything about having duel soulmates - no one. It is completely unique to you."

"Yeah maybe the phenomenon, but not how I feel. Soulmates or not, I am still very much in love with Charles, just as much as I love you. I can't choose between you, please don't make me. Charles isn't. Don't make me do that... I can't."

"But don't you see? What if this is the way it's supposed to be?" he pleaded, getting closer to you again, putting his hand behind your head. "What if Charles was your beginning, and I respect that, I do, but what if I'm your end?"

You shook your head.

"I don't know. I can't..."

"You can't say one way or the other if that's what it's supposed to be."

All you could do was panic, feeling trapped. What if he was right? What if you were just tied to Charles from all the history you had? Of course you still loved him. You were just as in love as before. Was it even possible that they weren't supposed to occupy your life at the same time? Maybe you weren't supposed to choose. Maybe you were supposed to move on.

But that just didn't feel right. You felt happiest when you had them both in your life.

"Stephen, I... I'm so sorry, but I just don't believe that. I love you, I do, but I can't choose, I won't choose. Charles is okay with sharing me, so either you are okay too or..." You trailed off, making the implication clear.

He let go of you, stepping back, he still held onto your hands, but barely as he continued to put more distance between you two.

"Then I can't do this," he said sorrowfully. "I can't have it both ways. I just want you all to myself, so if you can't give me that..."

"You'd rather not have me at all than share me?" you asked in shock, gasping from the pain.

"I'm sorry, but I want all of you. I don't want to have to fight for your attention."

"You wouldn't."

"That's how it would feel." He picked up your hands, bringing both to his lips, kissing them. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I love you. Please come see me again if you change your mind."

He let you go and walked away, leaving you standing alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag:

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification

@thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

@munlis

@thefridgeismybestie

@bubblyanarocks3

@igiveupicantthinkofausername

@kaliforniacoastalteens

@feelmyroarrrr

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo

@damalseer

@heyitscam99

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@glitterquadricorn

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@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

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@paintballkid711

Charles Xavier

@bohemianrhapsody86

@lenawiinchester

TSMU

@tilltheendwilliwrite

@allinhishands

@solaramoonset

@halfofwhatisayismeaningless

#the stars made us #charles xavier x reader #stephen strange x reader #charles xavier #stephen strange fic #charles xavier fic #stephen strange

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crazyclownthanos · 3 years

Text

Ace Silva

“A million dreams for the world we’re gonna make”

“All I want to do is to change the world”

“Carrying on the will of Asta? Wow. That’s an honor I hope I don’t mess this up”

Character Information

Ace Silva is a royal from the clover kingdom raining from the house of Silva pacifically the Silva-Ideale branch family. Zora and Nebra’s second child.

At the whooping age of 11 he meets the devil, Helreignn the white devil and a shifting fox named Ruh. Now on an unexpected Journey to gain control of this unknown power he faces challenges that will change the shape of the world.

Ace comes the Latin origin meaning “one, unity”

Alias

Acey chasey

Chasey wasey

Chase

Racey (Magna)

Pupil (Asta)

Title(s)

The white Devils vessel

The future king of the underworld

A hazard to royalty

The will carrier of Asta

The grandson of the dancing princess of the battle Field and the first commoner to become a magic knight

An abusers & criminals child

General Information

Status: Alive

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Affinity: Arrow magic, Nigh Omniscience (not awaken), underworld formation (not awaken), Shapeshifting (Not Awaken), Light manipulation (not awaken)

Age: 11 (at the beginning of White Clover)

Birthday: February 26th

Constellation: Pisces

Height: 146cm

Weight: 30kg (66.13p)

Blood type: AB

Eyes: Pink

Hair: Red

Relatives: Nebra Silva (Mother), Zora Ideale (Father), Josslyn (Older Sister), Solid Silva (Uncle), Nozel Silva (Uncle), Noelle Silva (Aunt), Asta (Uncle), Haskell Silva (Cousin), Liebe (foster uncle), Acier Silva (Grandmother), Zara Ideale (Grandfather), Two other cousins, Grandfather

Appearance

Ace is the shortest among the fearsome three and the lightest some people say he’s underweight though he just hasn’t have the biggest appetite though Charmy solve this by overeating him every time at the black bulls base.

Ace’s has triple bangs. His hair tends to be wavy or curly depending on the shampoo he uses though. Ace’s pink eyes are probably the most fascinating feature about him.

At home Ace likes wearing clothes that aren’t too tight on him and you can usually spot him wearing a black turtleneck, wool cardigan and white pants. In his outdoor wear he wears of cool tones colours of ice blue, white & normal blue. White gloves and a white long sleeve jumper with an upright collar length down to the hips, the king sleeve has a design in the middle of an icy blue eagle and around that eagle is a magic circle of tap representing the Ideale branch On the bottom are white pants on both sides their are 5 leaf blue clovers descending down his pants, for shoes he wears a type of blue toned icy blue heel going up the pants

Personality

Due to the bullying Ace received from the other noble children Ace has beocme an insecure individual gaining a low self-esteem at a such a young age often getting intimidated by nearly anyone. He tends to get clingy in fields of defenselessness one leading example would be at royal banquets, Ace would always hide underneath Nebra’s dress throughout the entire banquet. Always having his guard up he overthinks nearly any of his movements afraid to disappoint anyone and often needs something to fiddle with. A trait Ace holds is determination, according to Asta, Ace holds more determination than he could of had, a case to prove it would be going up against a devil being 11 to protect the clover castle. However Ace starts to change when meeting Helreignn he slowly becomes more confident in his skills.

Traits

Determination

Good heart

Emotional

Kindness

Selflessness

Self Indulgence

Stubborn

Observant

Relationships

Family

Nebra Silva

Nebra has been the closest to Ace’s heart since skin to skin contact. No matter when or what these two would always have ball arts and crafts, bath time, studying time, his mummies arms were the warmest to him. Through the bullying of the noble children they would call him the “abusers child” this would be the time Ace found out about his mummy and Solid abused Noelle for 15 years at first believing this was nonsense to him until he asked the question. Soon Ace accepted that his mummy had change and the two reconnected their bond.

Zora Silva

Zora had introduced Ace to commoner life when he was a toddler and taught him the importance of that money isn’t everything, Ace is grateful for all the important lessons Zora taught him because without them Ace would just be another arrogant royal. The relationship between Zora and Ace is healthy. Zora would always supported Ace when he was in lows and even talk about his glorious adventures of being a supermage until he fell asleep.

Josslyn Silva

The relationship between Josslyn and Ace has its highs and lows. Ace knew from a young age how intimidating his sister could be and due to the bulllying Ace sorta of grew to have be frightened of his sister knowing that she could do the same thing to him. On one ocassion Josslyn saw Ace getting laughed at by other noble children however she did nothing about it, Ace assumed Josslyn didn’t loved him. This was never the case Josslyn had always cared for Ace knowing how fragile he is and feels ashamed to be called a “sister” for never standing up to the bullies

Nozel Silva

Ace never liked Nozel. Ace can remember memories of his mother and Nozel fighting day and night. Ace would always get nervous when interacting with Nozel afraid that he would take out his anger on him.

Solid Silva

Ace dosen’t have a problem with Solid knowing what he had done in the past was not okay he has learned to accept his past. Solid would always make Ace smile and bring out his inner child with his sarcastic humour.

Noelle Silva

Ace thinks of Noelle as an inspiration and often wonders what strength it took to become such a powerful magic knight. At times he would still ponder why she looked so much like his grandmother. Overall Ace adores Noelle and loves seeing her out in the battlefield and is proud to carry the same last name as her. Sometimes Ace goes to Noelle for love advice.

Asta

Ace is the willcarrier of Asta. Being the closest to him in the family other than his parents. Ace loves hanging onto Asta’s arms like a monkey even spending some days sitting on his lap doing cool wizard king duties as well as following him around, one time Ace joined Asta for the magic knight entrance exam. Figuring Ace was a devil vessel Asta couldn’t be more excited to be train him the guy smiled liked an idiot knowing he was following in captain Yami’s footsteps. Starting to train underneath the strongest magic knight Ace was over the moon and couldn’t be more ready. Overall Ace’s views Asta as someone he can relax and be himself, Ace dosen’t know what he wants to be in the future but with the help of Asta he knows he can overcome anything.

Haskell Silva

Haskell is the few among his family members were he doesn’t mind relaxing around, Haskell is someone he can always rely on and tell anything to him. Having an age gap of 9 years, Haskell was in his royal studies but he made sure to visit Ace in the nursery and play games, one of their favourite games was “teacher” when one would play teacher and the other one played “student”. Ace sees Haskell as a kind,funny and warm person who knows his right and wrongs another characteristic Ace liked about Haskell was his magic affinity, Star magic. Star magic was an attribute Ace would of loved to have.

Acier Silva

Fom a young age Ace was sure to know who were his grandparents. Being the grandson of the dancing princess of the battlefield was a huge honour to him. Ace heard stories of his grandmother from the seniors of his family and magic knight would always dreamed of seeing her on the battlefield , fighting, protecting all of it sounded exciting and yet remarkable, yes he did imagine at some stages that Noelle was Acier but he never told a soul.

Zara Ideale

Similar to Acier, Ace would of loved to meet his grandfather though sadly he passed way too early. Despite all the negativity it was good to know that his grandfather had a such an influence on the magic knights and idolise kinghts like them, knights who have a strong sense of justice and pledge thmselves to the kingdom.

Liebe

Ace considers Liebe as apart of the family. He views him as someone he can relate too often going to him for advice though Liebe soon distance himself because of the life energy raidainting of a devil dwelling within Ace.

Fearsome three/Light Traid

Karra Marron

Ace have been crushing on Karra for years the reason behind it haven’t be reavealed yet. These two have been close since diaper days often spending their time playing tag in the fields or talking in general. When Ace started forming a crush on Karra he started turning red and becoming nervous to even be in the same room as her though overall Ace sees Karra one of the toughest girls he knows thinking Karra has the potential to against the world and would risk his own life to protect her.

Mirage Adlai

Mirage is Karra’s only male friend his age and the two have been the best of bros since their first meeting. Ace can’t help himself but laugh whenever Mirage goes into “Grey mode” to him it’s like watching a mirror or so he finds it funny or dissponinting. Both dealing with Karra’s antics Mirage and Ace often teaming up forming the most motherly duo in clover history. Mainly Ace is lucky to have Mirage to stick around with him for so many years he dosen’t nescessarily see him as a rival, well not yet.

Others

Helreignn Lokadóttir

Ace meets Helreignn in his shapeshift form at the start of White Clover at first Ace is intimadted by his phrases thing but overtime Ace grows to be more curious about the man that has been dwelling within him for him for years, having questions about the underworld, the devil king, white devil, why did he choose him, etc, etc.

Genji

Ace can trust Genji with his life. The two of them are really close often in his fox form Genji would provide Ace warmth without thinking he would notice but he did. Ace is amazed by the strength he had to hold on for over 5 centuries grateful for entering his life.

Battle Powers

Magic

Arrow magic: This power allows Ace to manipulate and create blue arrows during conscious and unconscious hours

Abilities

Devil-Possessed: Ace is connected to the white devil, Helreignn, who possess numeral magic affinities with his main one being Arrow Magic, which grants him access to energy

Keen Intellect: Beyond his insecure personality Ace has shown to be thoughtful and intelligent throughout all the challenges he faces. He tends to acknowledge what the circumstances are and understands what’s at risk.

High Observation Skills: Helreignn noted that Ace has high observation skills taking note of the smallest of details and observing others battle tacktics analyzing and apply

Physical Strength 1/5

Magic Amount 5/5

Magic Control 3/5

Magic sensing 4/5

Cleverness 5/5

His love for Christmas 5/5

Trivia

Ace is named after his grandmother, Acier.

Ace and Licita share the same birthday (February 26th)

Favorite food is Avocado

Likes are butterflies, sunflowers, soft sunsets/sunrises

Compared to Asta he is Asta’s pollar oppsoite

Originally Ace was intended to have silver hair but this was changed to red hair saving the silver hair for a later design

Arrow magic was inspired by Aang’s arrow tattoo

Butterflies are attracted to Ace often grazing his face of flying into his hand gracefully no one knows how it happens even Ace

#White Clover #Ace Silva #Character information

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allsassnoclass · 4 years

Note

Prompt: 28, 10 and Lashton

You said lashton in an art gallery. I said Off-Screen circa 2017 (aka Luke’s Utah Era). this might feel a little out of context, because it is. the theoretical prequel that I'm writing would explain more of the surrounding circumstance, but the most important thing to note is that Luke moved in with Ashton in Utah after the end of the SLFL tour. This takes place in January of 2017.

lashton: “Where are all of my hoodies? Did you borrow literally every single one of my hoodies?” + art gallery

The last guest has left when Luke arrives, the gallery technically beginning to close for the night. Ashton is tired, all of the frantic energy from the past few months building up to this evening of schmoozing and revealing the deepest parts of his soul to be judged by the art community, and he feels empty now that it has passed. There’s a glass of some sort of fancy alcohol in his hand, but he hasn’t had the chance to drink it all night, and his suit feels like it doesn’t fit his shoulders correctly. It’s been bothering him, but he’s been too focused on smiling genially and making nice with every single person who passed through the doors to look at his art to do anything about it.

The sound of the main doors opening is loud in the quiet of the space, and Ashton tenses where he’s talking to the owner of the gallery. He relaxes once he sees that it’s not another art snob or a random person who got lost, but Luke. He stands at the threshold awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of one of Ashton’s college hoodies, beanie stuffed unceremoniously over his hair. It’s getting longer, and he’s been letting it curl more instead of spending hours styling it and trying to get it to sit right.

He looks just as breathtaking as ever, and Ashton is almost overwhelmed with how lucky he feels to be one of the only people to see famous rockstar Luke Hemmings with his guard completely down.

“Luke,” he sighs, relief too obvious. Luke just smiles and wanders, stopping short when something in a painting catches his eye.

“Friend of yours?” the gallery owner asks, and Ashton turns his attention back to her. It’s too easy to forget that anyone else exists the moment Luke enters a room. Ashton needs to get a grip.

“Yeah, that’s my housemate. Do you mind if we look around for a bit? He couldn’t make the normal gallery times.”

He logistically could have, because Luke doesn’t have responsibilities here in Utah, but Ashton knows that the idea of him having to look nice, be in a crowd of people, and possibly be recognized almost sent him into a panic attack.

“Sure. I’m locking up by 10, though, so be out before then.”

Ashton thanks her profusely, and the look she gives him is a bit too knowing for his taste. Still, she heads towards the back with an artistic grace, and Ashton joins Luke where he’s staring at one of Ashton’s paintings.

“Hi,” he says quietly. Luke leans into him in a practiced move, shoulders brushing together. Luke has always been familiar and comfortable, despite how little they see each other.

Ashton knows he should feel bad that Luke felt so lost in LA that he had to come all the way to Utah and Ashton to try and find himself, but selfishly he’s glad. For a few months, he gets Luke to himself, curled up on his couch and eating at his kitchen island instead of off traveling the world and meeting adoring fans. Besides, having Luke here helps. Ashton can’t take care of another person if he’s drunk every night, and meals are easier to prepare when there are two people to eat them. It’s easier to fall asleep if someone else is breathing slowly next to him. It’s easier to keep the loneliness at bay with Luke stepping into the gaps in his life.

“Was it a good showing?” Luke asks.

“It was,” he replies, resisting the urge to do something inappropriate like pull Luke closer and tuck his face into his neck just to breathe him in. “I even sold a few paintings.”

“You did?” Luke lights up. “Ashton, that’s amazing! Which ones? Wait, I want to see them all anyway. Walk me through them as we go.”

Ashton does, trying his best to remember the thought process and inspiration behind each of the paintings hanging in the gallery. For the earlier works it’s easier, because objects inside are more defined and they have clearer stories. For recent creations featuring bold strokes and swirls of color and more ambiguous shapes, the inspirations shift towards ideas. Some of them he created while drunk, and he has to check the title cards to figure out what he was going for, because while drunk Ashton isn’t good for much, he at least always writes titles in his notes app when he paints.

His professors made him include some of those works, saying that a few are profound and mesmerizing and probably your best work. It makes Ashton feel like he can’t create anything if he doesn’t have a few drinks in him. It’s a mindset he’s trying to move away from, but it’s hard. At least he has endless inspiration with Luke in the house.

Luke looks at a piece entitled Longing for a few minutes, and Ashton prays that he doesn’t ask who or what he was longing for while painting it.

“Come on,” he says when the swirl of blues and purples (with just that shimmer of gold to represent the person of desire, possibly forming a hazy constellation of Luke to anyone who knows what to look for) becomes too much. “I want to show you the synesthesia section.”

“Section” is a generous term, because it’s actually just four paintings on the same wall. He has many more paintings for various songs and albums back home, most of them on smaller canvases he can get from the craft store, but there are a few songs that evoke such strong, beautiful visuals that he had to paint them properly.

The first painting has a primarily blue background, mixing with black in short strokes by the edges. Traveling diagonally across the canvas are an assortment of other colors, mostly yellows and reds until they meet strokes of white in the middle. The paint is thick, creating textured mountains where the colors meet, and that’s Ashton’s favorite part about painting, really. He’s not very good at 3D forms, but paint never lays completely flat. He likes how dynamic it is because of it.

“Gravity,” Luke croons as he looks, “is working against me.”

Ashton loves hearing him sing. He was worried for those first few weeks Luke came to him, because he rarely heard it, but now he can count on random melodies filling the house at all hours.

“John Mayer makes nice songs to look at,” he says. Luke smiles at him, then they move on to the next one.

This painting has a bit more variety in color. Ashton remembers mixing them on his pallet, unbothered by the streaks it caused in the brush strokes, knowing that it was necessary to capture what the song makes him see. A dark background gives way to a curve of reds, purples, pinks, blues, ending in some greens and yellows and a hint of orange. He splattered white and black on afterwards, just a little bit near the middle of the curve, and Luke leans forward to see all the small dots.

“This one really does look like ‘Karma Police,’” Luke says. “Even I can see it.” He straightens and gives Ashton another grin, and he knows that he can’t capture that smile in a painting (he’s tried, so many times), but he still wants to attempt it again.

“I can’t believe how talented you are,” Luke says. “It’s almost unfair.”

“Thanks,” he says, ducking his head. Luke nudges him with his elbow and moves on to the next painting. This one follows a similar pattern to the other two, a dark background with color in the middle, but it’s messier. Blue and purple feature the most, but there are hints of orange and yellow, and white overtakes the painting in peaked chunks and thin streaks.

“You’d think that for a Prince song, there’d be a bit more purple,” Luke says, tilting his head.

“Maybe he should have written more purple songs, then,” Ashton shrugs. “‘Joy in Repetition’ has more blue.”

“Wait, is “Purple Rain” even purple?” Luke asks, alarmed.

“Yes, that one fits the title.” Luke looks reassured at that, and they continue to the last painting. Ashton feels nerves clench in his stomach.

He didn’t submit any of his photographs or colored pencil sketches of Luke, not even the really good one of Luke sleeping in his bed with an arm over his face that Ashton drew one night when the insomnia was hitting him hard, but this painting could be just as damning. It’s different from the other three because it’s slightly bigger and oriented differently, vertical instead of horizontal. The background is also based in white instead of black, primarily creating a pale blue to match the cautious optimism of the song. More blue meets with seafoam green, peach, and white in the middle, dripping down the canvas until all the colors fade into just the green. The lines of this one are smoother, blended together evenly, but there are bursts of gold in the middle and near a few edges that he bought a specific brand of metallic paint for. Ashton watches as Luke’s eyes trace the painting before he turns to the name card.

“Luke?” he asks when a few moments have gone by with him completely frozen.

“Really?” Luke asks, voice cracking. “This is what you see?”

“Yeah,” Ashton says. He knew he was going to end up painting the song as soon as he first heard Luke’s voice singing about tasting the ocean. “It’s mostly “Outer Space,” but I incorporated some of what I saw for “Carry On” at the bottom.”

“Oh,” Luke says, then turns and tucks himself into a hug, squeezing Ashton tight enough that he feels short of breath. Ashton wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and letting Luke cuddle into him in a way that he’s almost getting too big for.

“I take it you like it?” he asks, just to be sure. Luke nods, and when he does finally pull away he swipes at his eyes with the sleeve of Ashton’s sweatshirt.

“Can I buy it?” he asks.

“Luke, you can have it for free.” Luke shakes his head vigorously.

“No, you’ve already given me too much. I want to buy it from you. You should be paid for your art.”

“Okay,” Ashton says quietly. Luke’s eyes are still fixed on the painting, and Ashton comes back to slide a hand around his waist again. “We can negotiate a price later.” He presses a kiss to Luke’s temple, because that’s something he can get away with still.

“Don’t try to give me a discount. I’ve already stolen your food and half your clothes.”

“Speaking of,” Ashon says, “I’m absolutely positive that this hoodie was the last one in my closet. Where are all my hoodies? Did you borrow literally every single one of my hoodies?”

“Yeah,” Luke says sheepishly. “They’re comfortable. They smell like you.”

Luke is going to kill him like this. Ashton can’t even be upset, because what a way to go, but things like that are not helping him keep a lid on how absolutely head-over-heels he is.

“I’d be more upset if you didn’t look so good in them,” Ashton says before he can stop himself. Luke’s breathing stutters, but he doesn’t do anything besides lean a little closer. Ashton’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

“Come on,” Luke says. “I still want to see the rest of your pieces, then we can go home.”

Home, Ashton repeats to himself. Luke thinks of your house as his home.

They wander their way through the last few canvases, then stop briefly in the photograph and colored pencil room before stepping out onto the street. Their hands brush as they walk, and Ashton wonders if he can get away with grabbing Luke’s. This night feels significant in so many ways. Something has shifted, and he’s not sure if it has to do with his art career or the man beside him. He wants it to be both so badly he aches with it.

When they have two more blocks to go before reaching the house, Luke reaches over and threads their fingers together.

A/N: I don’t have synesthesia, but the first three song paintings really exist and can be found here. the one for os/co was made up by me.

#my writing #lashton #drabble #off-screen #this just set multiple things in stone that were undetermined before today #but when (if) I ever write the prequel things could shift and change #also this Ashton has synesthesia. the kind where he can see music #also me writing the piece with os/co: 'oh Helen isn't going to like this'#ugh I had something else I was going to say about this but now I've forgotten #this is a little treat for the people who follow me here after reading it because this is not going on ao3 until after the prequel #off screen

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softjeon · 4 years

Text

In love with your dark side | Pt. 3

• Pairing: Beauty!Taehyung x Beast!Yoongi • Genre: Fluff, bit of Angst | Rating: Teen and Up | Beautyandthebeast!AU / Fairytale!AU • Words: 5k | AO3 | Gifset Trailer • Disclaimer: anxiety, mentioning of a curse

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ Yoongi had tried not to think about what would happen if someone saw him but his mind had wandered through all of their possible reactions anyway: screaming, laughing, shock… he’s had so many horrible encounters in his mind and yet the boy in front of him didn’t react like in any of his thoughts.

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The night sky had been covered by large black rain clouds and the rain that poured from it was so hard it could almost be called hail. He looked up as the rain came down and sighed, pulling his coat a little tighter around his body, trying to keep his bag from being soaked. The street was lined with cars down both sides and most of the street was devoid of light but the few streetlamps. Taehyung hadn’t been able to afford a bigger shop in a better part of town. The crime rate in this section of the city was higher than anywhere but so far, they hadn’t cared much about his small photography shop.

There wasn’t much expensive stuff in there anyways.

The wind picked up from nowhere, but Taehyung quickly rushed down to the metro station to catch a train to the upper side. When he finally was at his destination and walking up the office building, Taehyung rubbed the rain out of his face before the excitement to see Mr. Min again replaced the ugly feeling of wet pants sticking to his body or his hair being a mess right now.

Taehyung was a very punctual person and Yoongi loved that about him because it meant that he knew exactly when the other would arrive. He could do real work before he came and when the clock ticked closer to their meeting time he would place all the important stuff aside and pretend to be busy while secretly watching the clock. This time however it was fifteen minutes past their usual time and Yoongi frowned. He had heard the rumble of thunder, but he hadn’t thought that it would keep Taehyung from coming. Luckily, it was just then that he heard the younger’s steps.

“Come in!” Taehyung always knocked and he always asked him to come in instead of opening the door (he unlocked it about ten minutes before Tae would come in so that he could keep sitting at his desk and appear busy and while Tae turned to close the door he could give him a quick once over). When he saw how drenched the younger was, actually dripping on his carpet he gasped in shock. “What happened?”

“Ehm,” Taehyung placed his bag with the camera down, somewhere where it wouldn’t anger Yoongi to see it and then shrugged off his jacket. “The rain happened. Don’t you hear it? There’s a storm going on outside. Do you think you have a towel or something for my hair?” He smiled through the wet strains of hair. Usually it was curled up a little, but with it being straightened out right now it covered his eyes.

“Why didn’t you take a cab?” He went around the table and quickly helped Tae out of his jacket. “Of course, I have a towel upstairs - and dry clothes. You’ll get pneumonia if you walk around in those clothes. It wouldn’t make a difference if you went swimming with your clothes on!”

Taehyung couldn’t help but chuckle, thankful for his help. “I would get a cab if I would have the money for it but unfortunately I can only afford the monthly ticket for the metro. But it’s fine.” He smiled at Yoongi, who looked a lot more comfortable with him being around. “Will you tell me where I can find your bathroom then?”

Yoongi blinked. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone had enough money to make uncomfortable situations more comfortable. Calling a cab was something he hadn’t wasted a second thought about back when he was still going out. “Just follow me.” Before he stepped on the stairs he turned around again, hesitating, “Please leave your shoes downstairs. And turn up your pants please. The carpet upstairs doesn’t like moisture.”

The younger had simply nodded, following Yoongi’s orders and him upstairs where he brought him clothes he could change into. He vanished into the bathroom quickly, drying his hair off with a towel before he joined back with Yoongi in his office.

It was somehow a lot familiar, as if they had done it a million times by now when in reality it wasn’t – but they clicked. In a weird way, they had much more alike than what the appearance might seem like and yet, so much that was so different about them. They were working side by side silently. Taehyung was making copies, sorting in files in alphabetical order while Yoongi was doing something that Tae thought seemed more like witchcraft.

Bringing a few files over to the chair with him, Taehyung sat down in front of his boss. “I filled in an application for a free spot at the museum of art’s today.” He blurted out with a smile, blushing lightly at his confession. Taehyung hadn’t even told Jimin, yet. “My last series would fit perfectly into the theme…but I don’t know. Lots of great artists apply.” He shrugged his shoulders as if it wouldn’t mean the world to him to have his photos placed in a museum one day.

When Taehyung came to him, Yoongi let his gaze wander over his form again. He looked different in his clothes and even though he normally swore that a well-tailored dress shirt and fitted pants could do wonders for someone visual appeal he wasn’t sure if it was true for Taehyung. The younger always wore clothes that seemed to fit in absolutely no category - and yet suited him perfectly. Like the shirt with the crazy pattern he had worn last time or the plaid pants that reminded Yoongi of the skirt his mother wore for Christmas.

It was obvious that Taehyung was really excited about this spot so because he wanted to see him happy and he didn’t see any fault in it he suggested, “Oh, that’s amazing. I’m sure they’ll see the potential in your work. Do you want me to donate to the museum in the name of the company with a side note that you’re employed there?”

It was a nice thought and yet, it left Taehyung with a heavy feeling in his stomach, so he quickly shook his head. “No, it’s really kind of you and if you want to donate in general then please do...but don’t say my name. Wouldn’t that be like blackmailing? Or using my ‘connections’? That wouldn’t be fair.” He smiled at Yoongi, still grateful for the thought of helping him. “I know it’s important to have those, to know someone that knows somebody but…,” He sighed, leaning back at his chair while pulling his knees up. “I’d rather be known for my art, for what it portrays. I want it to speak for itself. But if I get the spot, promise me to come by please. I’d love to show you.”

Taehyung let his gaze wander over Yoongi’s features, the dark veins almost reaching over his neck, his eyes seemingly darker than the night before and he wondered if he really didn’t feel any pain if this was just some weird condition no one ever heard of. He had tried to google it, but there was nothing he could find. It was strangely fascinating and beautiful, and he would have loved to trace all of them, feeling his skin under his fingertips to know if it was just as soft as he imagined it, all over his… wait what. Taehyung shook himself out of his sudden thoughts, cheeks blushing, and he quickly averted his gaze. He was getting tired - that’s all.

“Of course,” Yoongi noticed Taehyung’s gazes every now and then how the lingered a little too long or were a little too focused. He had learnt to not be too uncomfortable about it because Taehyung never made comments about his looks or flinched back when their hand’s brushed so he figured Taehyung’s interest in him was still that of a photographer: Seeing something morbid and ugly could become beautiful if you just shifted your focus a little and tried to see it in a different light. He even stopped wearing turtlenecks because he hated them and with Taehyung around he felt like he could be a little more himself.

“Come!” Taehyung almost yelled and jumped up from his chair, motioning for Yoongi to follow him as he gathered all the copies he made earlier. “You need to help me now.” Taehyung grinned brightly at him, when Yoongi just did as he said and sat down on the couch that he had in his office, although no one was waiting on there anymore or sipping on coffee. He had no customers, new offerors or anyone else here. The last one that had been in here had sealed his fate after all.

Taehyung brought everything he had done all night over and placed it onto the small coffee table and on the floor and Yoongi’s lap, before placing a coffee mug close to his boss (knowing he might need it). “You need to help me sort this as I don’t know what those mean.” He simply sat on the floor, right next to Yoongi’s feet, leaning against his legs lightly as he held up the first paper.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You don’t understand what’s in them or you don’t know how to sort them alphabetically?” He had an amused look on his face as he teased the other slightly even though he could understand. Sometimes he wasn’t sure either where to place a file like when a company’s name had changed but it made more sense to place the new files with the old ones or when he only ever got in contact with a certain person and could remember their name better than that of their tiny little company or when he just wanted to have something right beside him because he needed it so often instead of getting up and getting it from the other part of the bureau. It had made his help crazy when he had still employed someone to help him in his office. So, in this case Tae actually did help him and it wasn’t just a farce to keep him around.

“If I get the spot though,” Taehyung didn’t look up from the papers and kept placing them neatly where it was supposed to go, “Will you come and visit the museum like…” His voice sounded a little softer, almost timid and shy as he placed the file down and took another. His heart was beating fast and Taehyung felt nervous to ask. “Like we could visit it together, then I could tell you about the photos and… yeah. Only if you want to.” Taehyung was glad for the position he was in, sitting on the ground and leaning against Yoongi’s legs, where he didn’t have to face the other right now or else he would see that he was actually blushing.

Of course, he had heard Tae suggest it before, but he had been sure it was just a politeness thing. Surely Tae couldn’t think that he would actually be able to go out. “I, uhm, I can try and see if they would make an exception for us and let us in at night. Or maybe on a holiday where they would be closed.” He would need to get big sunglasses and gloves and a scarf that he could push up to his nose and a cap or a hooded jacket maybe.

Taehyung looked over his shoulder with a smile, “I don’t mind when. However, you feel most comfortable then. We’ve got to wait and see if I get the spot anyways.” He grinned at Yoongi and wrapped his arm around his legs, as he returned his attention to the task at hand. But he wasn’t able to let his thoughts wander to how it would be like to meet Yoongi somewhere else than his office.

Taehyung was sorting file after file until his eyes were burning from how tired he was. Yoongi was used to being up all night, while his rhythm had shifted but Taehyung was still working all day and now the nights had been busy with him helping his boss and he was losing sleep. A lot of it. And the past couple of days had been exhausting. So, when he gave Yoongi another folder, Taehyung leaned his head on Yoongi’s legs and sighed deeply. His eyes kept falling shut, while he was reading the same sentence over and over again until he couldn’t fight it anymore.

Yoongi stiffened up when he felt the gentle pressure of Taehyung’s head against his leg. “Taehyung?” He only got a sleepy murmur as response as the files slipped from the younger’s hand where it rested on his own thigh, sending them sliding over the floor. Yoongi frowned. “Are you… are you asleep?” There was no answer and he blinked, a little helplessly. Should he wake Taehyung up? He was pretty sure that he was crossing a hundred boundaries right now and the businessman in him was feeling that Taehyung would sue him for god-knows-what if he touched him while he was asleep. The other part in him felt sorry for Taehyung - and also a little guilty. He had pushed the thought of Taehyung working overtime somewhere in the back of his head where it didn’t spoil his happiness about having him here every night. However, he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Taehyung was exhausted. He had noticed before and choose to ignore it but the younger falling asleep right by his side was a clear sign that he had gone too far. With a sigh he figured that he could face being sued and put aside what he was holding so that he could support Taehyung’s head while he got up. “Let’s get you into bed then, shall we?”

Taehyung could feel himself getting pulled a little, mumbling sleepily. He barely registered the voice, but he knew it was Yoongi who was talking to him as he helped him up and steadied him as they stumbled towards the stairs. In Yoongi’s apartment, Taehyung could barely open his eyes, waddling tiredly wherever his boss was taking him and when he finally felt something soft beneath him, he immediately let himself fall.

He only got rid of Taehyung’s shoes as they didn’t pair well with Egyptian cotton sheets and then put a blanket over him before he left him there. Then he went back to send an email to his human resource management to tell them to find a replacement for Taehyung for tomorrow morning. He didn’t want to interrupt his sleep to wake him up during the day. And sleeping for a few more hours would do him good. He only hoped Taehyung didn’t have any other important appointments for tomorrow or would wake up in time if he had. To be sure that the other wouldn’t be angry at him he wrote a quick note and put it carefully besides the bed on the nightstand before leaving to use the recamiere to sleep. It was comfortable sleeping there which he knew because he had fallen asleep on it more than once after working for too long.

...

It was a sweet routine, something that Taehyung didn’t want to miss anymore. When he came in late at night, Yoongi was already awaiting him with a cup of hot cocoa and coffee in his own mug. They were talking, working and sorting stuff out that Yoongi needed help with. Although he had half a heart attack waking up the next morning in Yoongi’s bed (he slept like a baby though), the note had calmed his heart rapidly (he was almost glad he didn’t need to hurry to sort more mail this morning and he had only needed to figure out how to sneak out of the building without being seen). In the end he had made it somehow, only to stand in front of Yoongi’s office again.

And the day after that.

And the following days, too.

It was just nice spending the time with Yoongi, at least that’s what he told Jimin, when in reality the more time he was spending with his boss, the more he felt intrigued by him. He leaned his chin onto his hand as he watched Yoongi heating up water for some tea, as he bobbed his head to the music. “Do you dance, Mr. Min?” Taehyung asked and walked around the kitchen counter with a big grin plastered on his face.

Yoongi eyed him warily “Definitely not. Why, did something give you a different impression?” He made a step back , just to be on the safe side when Taehyung got up with a big grin on his face. “Kim Taehyung! I’m warning you!”

Taehyung didn’t care when he wrapped his arm around his boss and pulled him closer to him, swaying with the beat of the music, making Yoongi spin (with a little more work on his side). “Relax, Mr. Min. You’re always so tight up!” He placed Yoongi’s arms differently and where they actually should be in a dance position, but the other let them slip down again. But Taehyung could work with stubbornness as well, so he took both hands in his and pulled Yoongi in and out again turning him around and back again, having the time of his life.

“Heavens, you don’t know how to give up, do you?” He pulled a face while letting Tae drag him around, enjoying it too much to actually put up a fight and put a hold to it. He wasn’t lying he normally didn’t dance but being silly like this wasn’t something he had done in years and it somehow felt…freeing. Even though he would have never said that out loud. He still had a reputation to uphold.

It felt like forever as they danced and Yoongi finally seemed to relax a little more when his phone interrupted the music harshly. Usually he turned off the volume, but he was waiting for an important response for days now.

“Don’t run off, we will finish this dance!” He was still laughing, when he took the phone off the counter and looked at the message he got. It was an email, one that made his heart race a little faster at first and then it dropped again. Just like his smile.

We’re sorry to inform you – how many times had he read this sentence by now.

His art was everything to him, but it seemed like no one else saw it. Was he that stupid? Was he really not talented? He had thought about this a million times and it consumed him every time. Shutting the screen again, Taehyung put the phone aside as he felt the tears burning in the corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to cry. Not here. Not right now. Not like this.

“I didn’t get it.” Taking a deep breath, Taehyung shrugged his shoulders trying to not care, “Just something about how it didn’t fit in.”

It was clear that he spoke about the spot in the museum from the sadness that had filled his eyes and changed his entire face. In that moment Yoongi wondered how someone could feel so deep and still keep his smile because surely Tae must have been disappointed before and yet he looked like his whole world had just been crushed before his eyes. Immediately he reached out to take Taehyung's hands in his.

“They’re totally right! You don’t fit into some exhibition were pictures of similar artists are crammed into a tiny space so that museum visitors who are here for other exhibitions can take a short glance at them. You need something else, with more space, more freedom, something that’s entirely your own thing. Don’t let this get you down because they definitely aren’t worth your tears. You can be sad - but only for them because they missed out on having you in their halls, not because you feel like you’ll never get the chance to find the right audience. Because you will. Sooner or later you will find them. I promise you that.”

The younger averted his gaze onto his feet and although Yoongi’s words warmed his heart, he knew better. He’d been trying for so long now.

“I know you mean well,” His voice sounded defeated, “But maybe I’m just not made for this. Maybe my art isn’t good in the end and I should just stick to what I’m good. Sorting mail and taking pictures of families and their kids in my shop.” Taehyung let himself plop down onto the couch, making some more room for Yoongi. “Some people aren’t made for this, I guess.” His lips pursed into a slight pout as it hurt saying those words out loud. “I had imagined it so beautifully though…maybe I should stop daydreaming, then it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“If you feel like this then I’m sure you must be right.” Yoongi gave him a sharp look. “Because if that’s what you secretly think every time you apply for an exhibition or a nice spot at a gallery people will see it, that you’re insecure, that you’re not a hundred percent sure of what you’re capable of. And so, they’ll give your place to someone who is because even though they have less talent they know how to sell themselves better. It’s on you, really. If you think you can be happy with what you have; stick to it. If not then fight for what you want.”

Taehyung had pulled his legs in and draped them over Yoongi’s as he chuckled softly. “Says the one who is hiding in his office.” He smiled at him when he reached out for his hand to intertwine their hands. “I’m insecure when it comes to my art. I’m always scared if others will like what I do or if they will say something mean. And I am trying, Mr. Min. I’m trying so much but it’s getting frustrating.” With the other hand, Taehyung began to trace a few lines on Yoongi’s hand mindlessly, “If you’re allowed to be insecure about what others think, then I am too.” He blinked when the tears threatened to fall again. “I just wished I could have shown you. You could have played the piano at the opening or…you could have met Jimin. My friend, I told you about. And…and we could have gotten out for some coffee. The good kind, the one from downtown. And I’d put lots of sugar in mine, while you drink yours black.” He shook his head and wiped over his cheeks. “It would’ve been perfect, don’t you think? Rich people like you buying crappy art from me. That’s where our worlds collide, right?” Taehyung sighed deeply, “I bet they didn’t even look at my stuff, just discarded me when they didn’t recognize my name. That’s how it works after all.” He blinked up at Yoongi with tear-filled eyes, “I’m sorry I can’t take you out on an art date, then. We’ve got to reschedule.”

He had wanted to offer to buy Tae some exhibition catalogue where they could look at it together but something else made his brain short circuit before he could speak up. “D…date?” Yoongi stumbled over his own words as he looked at Taehyung with wide eyes, all thoughts about not showing his emotions too obviously thrown out the window. Surely he must have heard wrong. Or Taehyung was joking. Or the other meant it differently like… a date between friends.

Taehyung rubbed his neck nervously, before he shyly answered. “I meant it when I said I want to show you my stuff…just you and me. I…” He gulped, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat that made it so much harder to speak. “I really like your company, Mr. Min. I thought…you’d maybe…like that, too?” He frowned at his own wording, wanting to fling himself out of the window in shame.

“You thought... I’d like to date you?” It did totally come out wrong but the thought that someone would want to date him and not just someone but handsome, young, lively Tae who could do so much better than some bitter, disfigured hide-away that couldn’t go out baffled him completely. If it were anyone else he would have thought they wanted his money or a story, but Tae had proved that his art was what was most important to him and that he didn’t want to buy himself recognition. So, he had no idea why Taehyung would do that to himself. “You can’t be serious!”

Taehyung didn’t know what had come over him and maybe he had been stuck in his head, thinking that his little nightly adventures could be a little more than just that. Yoongi was still his boss and although he was kind enough to let him in and spend time with him almost every day now, it didn’t mean he felt the same way for him. He realized that now.

“I am so sorry, I…I didn’t think, I guess. You’re still my boss of course and…this…it’s work-related and…,” Taehyung got up from the couch, hands shaking as he realized that somewhere between spending all those sleepless nights with Yoongi, feeling up his skin, getting to know the man behind the mask that he had fallen in love with him. While Yoongi was just happy for the care he was giving him, the company and the help that he needed in his office. He bowed his head in apology, trying to ignore his rapid beating heart that was telling him to stay, but he knew he was just making a mess. “I think I should go. I have overstepped your boundaries, Mr. Min. I’m sorry.” Taehyung grabbed his bag from the piano chair before he rushed towards the door.

“Wait, Taehyung!” Yoongi was on his feet in a heartbeat, running after Taehyung who was surprisingly quick for someone who’s view must still be blurry from his unshed tears. “Don’t run off now, please, just wait!” He was out of breath when he arrived at the end of the stairs but at least Taehyung was still there, even though he didn’t look at him and had his bag securely placed in front of him, his shoulders hunched forward as if he was trying to hide and make himself as small as possible. Taehyung meant what he had said. His reaction and the flash of hurt that had passed over his face had made it crystal clear. So Yoongi spoke softly - as best as he could while still being out of breath. “You can’t date me while you still call me Mr. Min. So.. call me Yoongi, please.”

Taehyung held onto his bag tightly, not really sure what to say when he simply nodded. “Okay…Yoongi,” His voice sounded rough and unsure as he stood by the door. “I’m really sorry, Mr. M-... Yoongi,” Taehyung had his eyes averted onto the ground, not able to stand his gaze. “I didn’t want to mess this night up. We can go back to how it was tomorrow. I promise, I won’t say anything anymore.”

Yoongi shook his head, smiling. “Taehyung, I don’t think you got what I meant to say. I’d like that. The art date you promised me. I’m up for it. I didn’t mean to react so taken aback when you suggested it, it was just that... I couldn’t really see why you would... you know...” He trailed off, gesturing to his marks instead. “So, it took me a moment to realize you were serious but... yeah. Please date me if you still want to.”

The younger’s eyes flickered up when Yoongi spoke just as nervously as he had only minutes before he ran off. “So, if I do get a spot…you’d let me take you out?” He asked nervously, “A-and you’re not saying this b-because you know I won’t never get a spot?”

Yoongi couldn’t help it, he broke into laughter. “Oh Tae, that’s totally not it. Because you will get your exhibition, I can promise you that.” The company had done enough charity events that had to do with art for him to know how to organize an exhibition though Tae didn’t have to know that. Not yet. “Also, I’ve got two conditions concerning our date: First I’ll let you take me out but I won’t let you pay. That’s my part. And second I want the right to buy one of your exhibition pieces. You can leave it hanging there for everyone to see but with a little sign that tells them that they have to be fast to get one of your other pieces because that one is mine already. Deal?”

He smiled softly at the thought of being able to take Yoongi out one day, maybe he would open up enough to him to be brave enough to actually visit him on opening day. He’d love that a lot. His smile grew even bigger as he walked up to Yoongi, placing his bag down.

“I take the deal.” He cocked his head aside, pushing a string of hair out of Yoongi’s face as he leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek. Barely there, just a fleeting touch of his lips against his skin. “And why wouldn’t I want to, you’re beautiful to me.” He whispered, leaning in a little more, “Good Night, Yoongi.”

It was a good thing he let their night end like this because Yoongi was too overwhelmed to know what to do with himself. He was unbelievably happy, like something had let in the light that illuminated his whole world again. But at the same time, he was horribly, horribly scared. Because he knew how dating went. If they would not get along and their interest wouldn’t turn into a relationship then it would be different between them. And if they did get along well... then it would be just as scary. Because dating meant that they would see each other more often, maybe kiss, maybe touch… and he didn’t want Taehyung to see all of his skin. The other had told him that he thought his hands were beautiful and he could look at his eyes without flinching but being faced with the ugliness of his whole body could only be too much, even for someone as kind hearted as Taehyung.

A/N: Ohhhhh, what do you think? Will a date happen? Or will Taehyung get refused again and again and again or.............

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azozzoni · 4 years

Text

Some extra van der stoffels for your christmas eve. This is not related to the big fic, just something fun.

The weather is finally turning, little green buds sprouting on the trees, blue skies breaking through rain clouds, and thank god, Jens thinks. He can’t wait until it’s warm enough to wear tee shirts again, but for now, he’s still got his sweatshirt on as he stands outside the bus station, checking the time on his phone before tucking it in his pocket.

Lucas should be there any minute, as long as the bus is on time.

It’s been two weeks since Jens has seen him, two very long weeks in which even Robbe accused him of moping. Jens does not mope. He just misses Lucas is all--misses the stupid way he laughs and teases Jens about the fact that he only owns two sweatshirts, misses the way he seems to melt whenever Jens smiles at him. God, he is going soft.

Jens forgets about all of that, though, when he catches sight of Lucas stepping out the door, head swiveling to find Jens amongst the people milling around the station.

His face lights up when he spots Jens, and Jens shoves down the glow in his stomach as Lucas hurries toward him, biting his lip and looking more pleased with himself than usual. It takes Jens a minute to realize why as Lucas gets closer, bounds into his space, arms around his neck.

“What the fuck is that?” Jens asks, grabbing Lucas’ face before Lucas can kiss him, holding him back a few inches to stare at the shiny silver ring in Lucas’ nostril. That is definitely new. And definitely hot.

“You like it?” Lucas asks, as if he knows the answer already. He probably does from the way Jens has to stop himself staring, force himself to blink, turning Lucas’ chin to the side so he can get a better look.

“When did you get it?” he demands, and Lucas grins, eyes sliding to Jens’ even as Jens keeps his chin turned to the side.

“Couple weeks ago,” Lucas says, reaching for Jens’ hoodie pockets and tugging him closer. “I went with Isa.”

Jens hasn’t met all of Lucas’ friends yet, but he remembers Isa, the girl with curly hair and a bright smile who hugged him so tightly when they first met.

Jens drops his fingers from Lucas’ chin finally. “You kept this a secret for that long?”

Licking his lips, Lucas nods, and Jens hates what that does to him, makes him think of panting breaths and slick skin in the darkness. But he can’t think about that when they’re standing in a crowded bus station and they have somewhere to be in half an hour.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Lucas says, eyes big as he watches Jens, as if maybe he is worried Jens doesn’t like it. “So what do you think?”

“I think you’re so incredibly hot already, this is just going to make it impossible for me to keep my hands to myself,” Jens says simply, pulling Lucas into a kiss, feeling Lucas’ smile against his lips as Lucas’ arms slide around his waist.

Jens doesn’t know how long they stand there, probably too long to be making out in the middle of a bus station, but he doesn’t care. It’s been two weeks since he’s been able to do this, and he’s going to make the most of the time they have today.

“Aren’t we going to be late?” Lucas asks finally, pulling away to take a breath, huff it out against Jens’ chin like maybe he doesn’t care about being late. Jens certainly doesn’t care. He’d much rather take Lucas back to his apartment--not even to spend the whole afternoon wrapped up in bed, but just to catch up, to find out if Jayden ever got a date with that girl he was chasing after last time Jens came to visit, if Kes and Isa are on the path to getting back together, if Lucas had missed him too.

It’s with that thought that Jens reluctantly lets Lucas go. “I guess we should go. Not that Robbe will notice if we don’t. He’ll be too busy making moon eyes at Sander.”

“I think Sander would appreciate it,” Lucas says, and Jens is no longer surprised when Lucas takes his hand and they head for the crosswalk.

Lucas probably knows more about what Sander would appreciate considering he has his mom to deal with, so Jens leads the way, trying not to think about how much he would rather be kissing Lucas right now instead of heading to an art show for Sander’s school. Art is something Jens knows absolutely nothing about. But he promised Robbe, and he’d invited Lucas, and they were going.

“So what do I say about the art?” Lucas asks when they reach the school, and Jens laughs.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Then I guess we’ll just be uncultured idiots together,” Lucas says, and he doesn’t blush like he used to, when they first met. It takes a lot more to make Lucas blush now, but Jens sees it as a challenge.

“Maybe it will be all drawings of Robbe,” Jens says as they enter the building, following the signs to the gallery where more people than Jens expects. “Then we can tease him about it for the rest of his life.”

Lucas smiles but he doesn’t say anything as they reach the gallery.

Jens has never been here, never been to Sander’s school actually. The gallery is a large, white room, partitioned with moveable walls, different types of art hung up. Jens doesn’t see anyone he knows, wandering through the exhibits. To his credit, Lucas appears to be appreciating several they pass.

“You know,” Jens says as they pass what he thinks might be a sculpture. It also might be trash. Turning to Lucas, he pulls him in closer, smiling at the shiny new piercing in his nose. He wonders what spurred Lucas to do such a thing. “We could just say we couldn’t find them. My apartment’s empty for the next few hours.”

Lucas glances at him, half a smirk on his face. “These are your friends,” he says, as though Jens isn’t perfectly aware.

“And I invited you before I knew you were going to show up looking so good,” he says, snaking an arm around Lucas’ waist, murmuring his next words against his temple. “I don’t think I can wait a whole hour to get you alone.”

He’s rewarded with a blush this time, a pink tinge along Lucas’ cheeks, the tips of his ears, the back of his neck.

“So I don’t always look good?” Lucas asks instead, and Jens bites back his grin as he tips Lucas’ mouth up to his.

“You do,” he assures him. “It’s just been two very long weeks and I was unprepared.”

“Good answer,” Lucas says, and he grins as Jens leans in to kiss him.

“Hey, there you are!”

Robbe’s voice cuts through them like a knife, and Jens sighs as Lucas turns away before he can close the distance.

Jens is glad his friends like Lucas, that Lucas likes his friends, but right now, he’d rather that Robbe was off somewhere else instead of talking to Lucas enthusiastically about Sander’s drawings and dragging him over to some corner of the gallery.

Jens follows behind them, wrapping his arms around Lucas from behind as they admire Sander’s work. It’s not all Robbe’s face, which disappoints Jens a little. There are other people too, even one of Jens, which surprises him.

“Why is my face up there?” he asks, glancing at Robbe, who shrugs.

“You’re friends. He likes you.”

“No, that can’t be it,” Lucas says, and Jens scoffs, pressing a kiss to his neck instead.

“Shut up. Everyone likes me.”

Robbe is watching them now instead of the drawings, and Jens feels weirdly self-conscious for a second as he straightens up. He shouldn’t, he knows. After all, he’s been with Lucas for a few months now.

He’s saved from Robbe asking a question he doesn’t want to answer when Sander comes up behind them.

“Jens, Lucas,” he greets them both, hugging Lucas.

They get along like a house on fire, which Jens is glad for. Not that he thinks too much about what his friends think of who he’s dating. He never cared with Britt and Jana and Robbe had always been friends. But Lucas, Lucas is new to the whole group.

Sander steps back from Lucas, pointing at his face. “Is that new?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lucas says, glancing at Jens, who grins, biting his lip.

“I love it,” Sander says seriously. “Very rock and roll.” He glances at Jens. “You guys kind of match now.”

Jens isn’t expecting the way Lucas flushes this time, not quite meeting his gaze, and a thought occurs to him, one he hadn’t considered before.

“Thanks,” Lucas says, looking back at the drawings. “These are all amazing, though I don’t know why you’d want Jens’ ugly face in there.”

Jens scoffs, forgetting for a second about why Lucas pierced his nose. “I am the prettiest person on any wall.”

“Not the wall by the skate park,” Sander says, cheeky, hugging Robbe to him.

Well, nobody can compete with that, Jens thinks, watching Robbe giggle at whatever Sander whispers in his ear. He looks away to find Lucas watching him.

“You can’t fight a giant mural of Robbe’s face,” he says, shrugging. “But seriously, Sander, these are so good.”

Sander grins at Jens, looking only slightly embarrassed at the compliment.

“Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it. And thanks for coming all the way up here, Luc.”

Lucas smiles easily. “Can’t think of any other reason I’d rather come.”

Sander laughs as Jens pulls Lucas back against him, shaking his head.

“Asshole,” Jens says in his ear, messing up Lucas’ carefully styled curls.

“Do you guys even like each other?” Robbe asks, joking, as Lucas rakes his hair back into place.

“Not at all,” Jens says, but he takes Lucas’ hand. “But there’s other art to see, so we’ll catch you guys later.”

Robbe rolls his eyes, but neither he nor Sander stop them from heading in the opposite direction. Jens has no intention of looking at any of the art as they cross the gallery, heading towards the exit.

“Don’t you want to see anything else?” Lucas asks as they pass walls of abstract paintings, and Jens glances over his shoulder at him.

“I’ve already got a piece of art.”

Lucas laughs, tugging him to a stop as they leave the gallery, stepping into a long, empty hallway.

“Do those lines actually work?” he asks, stepping up to Jens, arms sliding around his neck.

“They worked for Sander,” Jens points out, but he doesn’t really care what worked for Sander. He’s already got Lucas right here, in his arms, close enough to kiss and no one around to interrupt them.

He should ask now before he chickens out, before he decides he doesn’t want to know the answer. He gaze sweeps up Lucas’ face, the moles on his skin, the pinkness of his lips, how incredibly blue his eyes are even in the dim hallway lighting. Jens doesn’t think about it often, how fucking gorgeous Lucas is, but he knows it. He’s known it since the first time he saw Lucas and his heart fell into his stomach.

“Why’d you pierce your nose?” he asks, the banter falling away. He watches the way Lucas takes a breath, eyebrows furrowing.

“I don’t know,” he says slowly. “My mom about died when I came home. I guess I kind of wanted something like yours.”

“You wanted to match,” Jens says, echoing Sander’s words, and Lucas makes a face.

“Not exactly. I didn’t pierce my ear.”

There’s a strange feeling in Jens’ stomach, like something warm and fuzzy has taken up residence there when Lucas looks back at him finally.

“Do you think that’s weird?” Lucas asks, apprehensive, and Jens shakes his head.

For a second, he bites it back, bites back the words gnawing at his tongue. But why should he? Why should he stop himself from admitting how he feels? Even if the boys will tease him forever. Even if Robbe will smile at him, all stupid and knowing as if he called it or something.

“I missed you,” he says finally, bringing a hand to Lucas’ jaw, watching Lucas’ eyebrows rise, as though surprised, as though pleased.

“You did?”

Jens nods. “Two weeks is too long without your face.”

It sounds so mushy when he says it out loud, but he wouldn’t take it back, not when Lucas’ eyes seem to shine brighter, his smile widening. He wants Lucas to look like that all the time.

“I missed you too,” Lucas says after a minute, whispers in the empty hall.

Jens gets to kiss him this time, holding him close and licking into his mouth as Lucas smiles against his lips, kisses him back.

“If you ever get another piercing, I want to know right away,” Jens murmurs when they part, lips soft and warm.

“Okay,” Lucas agrees, looking pleased with himself this time as he lifts his chin to kiss Jens again.

They’re not going to see any more art today, and Jens is perfectly okay with that. He’ll be perfectly okay with anything as long as it’s with Lucas.

#wtfock #skam nl #van der stoffels #my fic

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lemonjoonah · 5 years

Text

Let the Villain Win (M)

Word Count: 5K Rating: M Genre: Thriller, Drama, Author AU Warnings: Smut scene (Oral m. and f. receiving, Fingering), Yandere Namjoon, Stalking, Drugging, Kidnapping Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, Mention of Seokjin x Reader

Summary: Kim Namjoon, famous author and your childhood friend has been keeping a secret from you. His new book treads on such dark themes that he’s finding it difficult to write. Excited by the prospect of a sinister plot you offer him a piece of advice, “Let the villain win…”

...

You look to the building pile of manuscripts on your desk, curling your lip over the prospect of reading them. You’re sure that some of them will be good, a couple of them might hold your attention, but none of them are the story that you truly want to read, the one that you are waiting for, the one that was due three days ago...

“I’m going to kill him.” You mutter to yourself while taking a sip of tea. Kim Namjoon, one of the finest thriller authors ever to be published, and your best friend since childhood. You have the privilege to represent him as his literary agent, but that comes with its setbacks. Namjoon never seems to take you seriously when you set a deadline. Even now he’s off gallivanting somewhere, refusing to answer his calls or texts until he returns from his ‘creative space’.

You look over to his house across the street for the hundredth time since his departure. Every time you had glanced over the windows remained dark, but now your patience has finally been rewarded with a glow emanating from his curtains. You set down your mug haphazardly and check your phone. Your anger grows when you see that he failed to notify you of his return.

Forgoing your jacket, you dash across the gap between your dwellings the rain pelting you as you cross the narrow street. You stomp up to his porch, and pound on door as if the wooden barricade is at fault for his actions. “Open the door Kim Namjoon, I know you’re in there!”

You hear his voice call through the door. “I don’t know, my agent taught me not to open to door for any crazed fans.”

“Namjoon, please?” You try to appeal to his softer side. “It’s raining and I don’t have my spare key.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He chuckles as he unlocks the bolt for you to enter. “I’ve only been home twenty minutes. I’m impressed, you must’ve been watching out for me.” A bright glowing smile greets your look of frustration.

Now being his childhood friend isn’t the only obstacle you’ve encountered in your professional relationship. In addition to his talent as a writer, he is also blessed with devilish good looks. Dark eyes that pierce your heart every time he looks to you, warmly toned skin that calls to your fingers, and lips so full that a simple smirk often drowns the fabric between your legs.

Shaking off those thoughts you try to focus on the your anger towards him,“Where the hell were you?”

“So vulgar,” he chastises you. “I missed you too.” He pulls you into a hug despite your damp clothes, and rubs his cheek against your wet hair.

“Two weeks, two weeks with no contact!” You pull away from from his arms.

“Sorry,” he scratches the back of his head and looks down.“Thanks for covering for me with the publisher.”

“Namjoon it’s not just about the sample, I was worried about you. You’ve never been gone that long before.”

He steps back from the entrance making room for you to come in before closing the door behind you. “I know, I’ve just been having some writers block.” He lowers his head in shame.

“It’s not like that hasn’t happened before, in fact I’ve come to expect it, but usually you’re only gone for a few days! I just wish you would have let me know that you were okay.”

“This time it’s different. The ideas are there I’m just afraid to write them. I wanted to call you but...” He pauses, his fingers trailing around his mouth, as if it might soften the effects of his words. “I think you’re the reason I can’t write it.”

Your face falls at the thought of being the hitch in his creativity, spurring a further explanation from him. “No please don’t take it like that, it’s just... this story, it’s not like my others. I feel like I’ll be subjecting you to the darkest part of my mind, I don’t want to put you through that.” There’s an exhaustion behind his eyes that you’ve never seen before, after a such a long absence you expected him to be well rested but it looks as if he didn’t sleep a wink.

“I’m not afraid of that big brain of yours,” you lean up to him rubbing his hair playfully. “I’ll take whatever you have to give me.”

“You’re willing to read it? No matter how dark or immoral it gets?”

“Namjoon we’ve been friends for over 15 years now. It’ll take a lot more than a book to scare me away.” If you’re being honest with yourself you always thought Namjoon would be the one to leave you behind. You don’t have many clients and there are agents with far better connections than yourself, but even after his first bestseller he refused to sign with anyone else. Stating that no one could support him as well as you.

He nods still looking at the floor. “I’m sorry, I should have talked to you about it before running off like that.” A wicked grin suddenly flashes across his face. “I can’t say that I mind seeing how much you missed me though.”

You scoff, at how quickly he can go from such a vulnerable state to one that completely wrecks you. “I said I was worried not that I miss you!” You tease back with a angry tone. “I have a life beyond you...”

“Pfft, no you don’t.”

“Yes I do! For your information I went on a date last week.” That seems to shut him down in an instant.

“Wait, with who?!”

“Seokjin.”

“Kim Seokjin? The cocky asshole from Smeraldo’s Books marketing team? I thought you said you wouldn’t date people you work with.”

“Confidence is not cockiness! And I don’t work with him directly so there’s no conflict of interest.”

Namjoon clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes, making his distaste known to you. These conversations never go over well with him, he always finds something to criticize about any guys you are seeing, planting a seed of doubt in your mind. He manages to find that perfect flaw that you’ll fixate on until you ended the relationship. Even now you find yourself starting to question Jin’s vanity.

“And stop changing the subject, I’m the one who had the right to be upset here not you!” Namjoon smiles at you sheepishly, slumping his shoulders in surender. With a sigh you too throw up the white flag. “Get some sleep okay? It’s getting late, we’ll talk tomorrow. ”

...

The next day you work from home. Diving into the pile of drafts from the comfort of your own bed. This also gives you the chance to keep an eye on the door across the street. Namjoon hasn’t left the house all day. By the time evening rolls around you begin to worry, considering that he had just come back from a two week absence there is no way he has any proper food in the house. You send him a text already knowing the answer.

...Have you eaten?...

...No...

...Jajangmyeon?...

...You know me too well, could you bringing it to my place?...

...Sure, I’ll see you in a few...

When you knock on the door Namjoon calls out instead of answering.

“It’s open.”

You step inside but there’s no sign of him.

“Sorry.” He comes into view with only a towel and water dripping off his frame. “I just realized when you messaged that I hadn't showered.”

“Namjoon, clothes, please!”

“Right...” He gives you a wide dimpled smile while he tousles his damp hair.

Fuck he will be the death of you and your career, you conclude as you sink into his couch. He knows the risks his knows the liabilities but sometime you think he intentionally tries to draw you towards him. From your seat your try to distract yourself by examining his walls looking to spot any new additions to his vast collection.

Namjoons home matches his personality perfectly, from the endearing art figures on his shelves to the brass telescope stationed by the window. Showcasing his affinity for charmingly cute items but also his sophistication and scholarly pursuits.

When he finally joins you, he sits down beside you and digs into his noodles. He anxiously starts to discuss the progress of his work. The worry still seems to hover over him regarding you reading the piece. “It’s not like my usual stuff, most of it will be told from the point of view of the villain. He’ll go unnamed for most of the story to have his final reveal at the end.”

“Oh that’s dark, I like it. You can really have fun with this character, there’s no need for you to hold back or try to make the readers like him.”

Namjoon nods in agreement, “It feels more honest too. The character doesn’t feel the need to hide behind a veil, the passions and desires are right out there in the open for readers to see.”

“You always write the hero, I’m excited to see you portray the villain.” As much hope as you give him there is still doubt on his face. “Namjoon, if I’m the problem, I don’t have to take this one on. I can find you another agent for this book I won’t take it personally, I promise.”

“No!” His response is short but loud, causing you to flinch back in surprise. “Sorry, it’s hard for me, but I still want you to be the first person to read it.”

You find his unwavering loyalty endearing, you’ve always been the first to read his stories from when he started writing as a teenager up until now. The twists and turns of his plots never ceasing to amaze you.

“What have you written so far?”

“I’m actually starting with the end, I’ve found it to be more captivating than the beginning.” He smirks as holds on to the secret twist you have yet to see.

“Who wins?” You ask prodding for clues.

“Not too sure yet, that depends on how the story progresses.”

“You should let the villain win this time.”

He chokes on his food for a second. Letting out a loud cough and taking a long sip of water before answering you. “You think so?” He asks cautiously.

“Absolutely, it’ll make for something different, and if we follow him the whole time I’ll find it depressing to see him loose.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckles at your insight, “Wouldn’t want to upset you now, would I? ”

“Nope.” You slurp up the last of your noodles with the excess of sauce. Making a complete mess of yourself, but you’ve succeeded in bring another laugh to his lips.

“You never change,” Namjoon mutters while wiping your face with his thumb. “God I missed you.” He pauses for a second, letting his hand linger before pulling the digit back to his own mouth and licking it carefully. You find him slowing inching towards you on the couch. “Tell me again why we can’t take this further...” You still while observing his unexpected words and actions.

He continues to press on his lip while eyeing you up as if you might be the next course.

“Don’t tease me Namjoon.” You chide him, trying to convince yourself that he can’t be serious. You place your bowl on the table giving you a reason to divert your eyes for a moment. Maintaining rational thought while looking upon him is an impossibility, taking even a second away from his eyes helps to build your conviction before looking back to him.

But he continues to tear away at the foundation of your determination.

“Why would I tease you? Teasing implies that I won’t give you what you want, I intend to give you everything.” He carefully brushes the hair from your face, dragging the back of his fingers across your cheek before pulling his hand away.

“Namjoon we’ve talked about this.”

“Yes, but we never did come to an agreement on it.”

“You know we shouldn’t do this. Working together as friends already poses it’s challenges. Adding sex won’t make it easier.” You are already far too lenient with him in comparison to your other clients, you dread to think what effect consistent intimacy would have on your professional relationship.

“When was the last time you’ve had someone?”

Your mouth falls open at the question. “Excuse me?” It’s been awhile but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You just said we are friends right? You would talk to your friend about sexual exploits, why not me? It might be good for my work, get those creative juices flowing.” The corner of his mouth pulls up followed by a bite to his bottom lip.

“Are you trying to use your writing as an excuse?”

“You think of everything with regards to work. I’m just trying to speak your language.”

You know he doesn’t wish to just talk about it but act on it.

Namjoon’s hand now takes your chin as he leans in even further, close enough for you to feel his breath upon your skin. “How long has it been?” He asks again. His eyes narrow as they search your expression for any clue you might give.

“Too long.” You whisper a blush creeping into your face giving you away as you look down.

“So you and Seokjin...”

“Nothing happened, I was too self conscious around him.”

Namjoon tilts your head to the side and places his lips near your throat, his other hand now resting on your thigh right at the start of the hem of your skirt. A faint growl of pleasure leaves him. “So you need someone you’re comfortable with.” His fingers begin to draw small circles on your thigh. “Someone who you’ve known for a while, someone you feel a connection with.”

“Someone who I don’t work with,” You counter back.

“Very well. I’m terminating our contract for the next hour. We can renegotiate after I’ve met your needs.” His lips finally touch you neck focusing right below your ear the heat flowing from that one spot makes you gasp. “Consider this my pitch.” He smirks whispering into your ear as his hand moves further up your leg. “Would you like to proceed?”

Fuck him and his way with words. Who are you kidding you knew you would cave to any desire of his the second you saw him in a towel. You can have sex just this once and stop it after that right? This isn’t going to be a regular occurrence just a one time thing you promise yourself. Just something to get the tension out of the way.

You finally nod leaning back on his sofa, giving in to him completely, letting his finger press your underwear to the side and then sink inside.

He acts surprised to find you already wet with arousal, “So receptive already? That’s not how you negotiate.”

“As if you didn’t know.”

“Do you dislike my ability to read you?” He mutters between the soft kisses to your throat.

“No I just wish I could do the same.”

“That can be arranged.” He answers back with a smug grin. You gasp as he pushes a second finger between you folds, curling it inside of you until you unleash a louder response to his touch. “Shall I give you an oral rundown of my work?”

Unable to form coherent words you nod again letting him lift up your skirt completely, he takes his fingers out for a moment so he can fully remove your underwear. Namjoon lowers himself so his head is level with you hips as he looks upon your pink entrance. His tongue starts rolling along the length of your slit. He hums with agreement as you raise your legs placing the back of your knees on his shoulders.

As he reaches the crest he gives a flick of the tongue, you buck from the sensation causing him to place a hand on your lower stomach directly between your hips. When you flinch again he presses down to keep you in place, the tug of his hold exposes your clit to him even more. His fingers return to their home inside you and he attaches his mouth to the area surrounding your bud.

You bite your lip to prevent an excess of noise as his lips tug on your knot. Noticing your sudden silence Namjoon stops and looks up to you. “Don’t hold back on me, no one else can hear you I promise.” He gives a sudden thrust of his fingers, the shock forcing you to cry out. “Good girl, let me listen to you.”

His long fingers continue to reach deeper, the pads of his fingers slowly stroking as his mouth returns to suck on your mound, with another flick of the tongue and fingers you dissolve in his grasp. Even as you reach your high he refuses to let go riding each wave of pleasure he sends through you. Only extracting himself when you call out his name in the form of a plea, unable to take the stimulation any longer. He takes his fingers from you bringing them to his mouth while he watches over you.

Awash with the warmth he has brought you your breathing is slow to return to an even pace. He groans as his hand passes over himself. With his eyes still focused on you, he palms what looks to be a painfully large erection beneath his jeans. Licking his lips he looks as though he might go down for another taste of you from the source, clearly not satisfied with what he took from his hands.

You sit up, fixing your skirt before you push Namjoon back into his seat on the couch. Taking up position in front of him, kneeling on the hardwood floor, your hands poise to lower his zipper.

“What are you...” He sputters as you open his jeans carefully. Your finger tracing the long bulge concealed by his boxers. “No I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“What reciprocate? I know you Namjoon, I know your games. I can hear it now, the next time I remind you of a deadline all I’ll get back is, ‘But remember that time I made you come?’ Besides,” You pry the elastic of his underwear back to reveal the throbbing head. “I think I’ll enjoy doing this just as much.” Who doesn’t take pleasure in someone falling to pieces in their grasp. Namjoon has always had the upper hand in your friendship, now is your chance to take it back.

He helps you by shifting his pants down so you can expose the rest of him. You cup his sac with letting your middle finger trace along the raphe. Your other hand guiding the tip of him to your mouth. The slight saltiness of precum hits you as your tongue as it brushes the head.

Within seconds Namjoon lets out audible groans from your ministrations. You resist the urge to smile at the sounds your touch produces. The hand that brought him to you now rests at his base. You open your mouth wide as you slide down his shaft. Your tongue presses against the soft skin as you glide his cock to the back of your throat.

His whole body tenses while you linger close to the base having taken as much as you can. You can hear a faint whimper as you pull your lips back to the top. With one of his hands clenched the other traces the line of your jaw and flows to your hair, gripping the strands as it falls in place at the back of your head. You curl your tongue around the rim of his tip before proceeding back down.

His hand continues to cradle your head while he falls back against the couch. Several expletives leave his lips as you quicken your pace. Each time you slide down you attempt to take him a little further to the point where your eyes begin to water. You look up to him as he draws his hand to his mouth biting down on the knuckle in an attempt to muffle the groans emitting from him. You allow him the vice that he took from you, enjoying the sight of his clenched jaw and focused expression.

When he meets your eyes he finally unravels, a flurry of heavy breathing escapes him. His hips come to meet you this time, with one final thrust, his hand keeps you in place. With each pulse you swallow to around his tip, his cum hitting the back of your throat. You linger for as long as you can until your lungs scream for air forcing you to pull back.

You wipe the saliva from your lips as you look upon his fallen state. His head lolled back, his breath nothing more than a shudder. It had definitely been worth it to see him like this, but you slowly draw back to reality knowing it can’t happen again. There’s too much at stake. If the other authors you represented found out, it could ruin your career, not to mention what would become of your friendship. Namjoon had one night stands before surely he could be content with just this once.

...

After that night Namjoon spends the next two days locked away writing. He asks you to stall with the publishers for as long as you can. Your excuses to them grow more pathetic by the day.

He calls you on the second evening while you’re on your way home from work. “Namjoon are you almost done with your sample? I can’t hold them off much longer, by the way if anyone asks you were sick and then you had a car accident.”

“But I don’t have a car.”

“No because you totaled it in the wreck, come on play along.”

He chuckles a thank you and then shares his news with you. “I think it’s ready. Is it okay if I drop it off at your place now? I have plans for tonight and I don’t want to be late.” He pauses as if to consider his words, “That is unless you would rather go on a date with me. I would cancel everything for that.”

“Namjoon,” You whine back, “Professional boundaries you promised!”

“You’re right I did. Can I still drop off my work?”

“I’m not back yet. Just use your spare key and leave the draft on my table.”

“Will do.”

When you arrive home not only is there a manuscript but he’s also throw in a bottle of his families homemade soju and a note.

...I figured you might as well have a drink at my expense while reading this. Sorry it took so long, I just had to be sure. -Namjoon...

The sample work he’s left strikes you as unusual, bound in a red journal, and upon opening you find his work in longhand. Written on the inside cover is the explanation.

...Possible marketing design, journal format to fit the theme. I would prefer to somehow mimic the handwriting as well rather than text, as it adds to the tone of the story.

Working title: Diary of a Villain

A character slowly driven mad by desire and longing, trying to hold himself together and not reveal his true self...

Namjoon is right, it’s vastly different than what he’s written in the past. Even though the passages he has given you fall closer to the middle and end of the story, you soon find yourself lost in the passion and intensity of the main character's thoughts. He’s been stalking the love of his life but he makes it sound so reasonable. Conveying that this is his purpose in life, to stay by her. Watching her through the windows, breaking into her home when she’s not there just to take in the smell of her sheets. Wishing to collect and study every part of her.

Your heart even breaks as he describes his time away from her. When his desire would overwhelm him, when he could longer be content with just watching, he would have to leave the city just to keep her safe from him. As you continue you notice the change in the writing style going from a tidy scrawl to a haphazard scribble as if the person writing these words was slowly becoming unhinged.

When you reach a part where the main character invites the focus of his affection over, you notice Namjoon has kindly put a small sticky note in the margin.

...If you haven’t started drink already I would highly suggest it now. I dislike the thought of you reading this part sober...

You glance at the next few lines muttering to yourself, “Is this a sex scene? He never writes about intimacy.” He’s right though the thought reading a sensual act written by your very attractive, untouchable friend requires a drink. After taking a shot of the soju he kindly provided you proceed.

The lead up dialogue seems oddly familiar.

...“Why would I tease you? Teasing implies that I won’t give you what you want, I intend to give you everything.”...

Your eyes trace every line carefully as you read, your mind tries to second guess itself wondering if those were are actually the words he spoke to you. But when you hit another familiar passage you begin to blush, no longer able to deny the truth.

...“You need someone you’re comfortable with. Someone who you’ve known for a while, someone you feel a connection with.”...

You take another shot of the soju as the story continues to unfold in a similar way as the events of two days ago. He goes into a vivid replay of how he satisfied you with his tongue and fingers. Each stroke of pleasure is written out on the page exactly how it happened. You’re not sure if you should be upset or flattered that he’s narrated the scene for the whole world to read. Regardless of your feelings your arousal begins to climb while remember how it felt when he touched you.

You interest grows when you read of the female character returning the favour. How her actions matched yours. You can't help but imprint the main characters feelings onto Namjoon. As if he is describing how it felt when you sucked his cock.

...Fuck she took me so well. How could I have ever let anyone else touch me other than her. I might have used them all as distractions, but now I see that nothing could compare. Her tongue dragged along my shaft, so talented in tracing the veins as she placed me at the back of her mouth. Her throat clenched around my tip. The thought of coming inside her was so overwhelming it brought me to the verge quickly. I had to dig my nails into my palm and bite my knuckles to distract myself with the pain. I gladly fought through it just to enjoy the moment a little longer. When I released inside of her mouth I could feel her throat swallow round my head, taking every drop I gave...

You nibble the tip of your finger and smile at the thought that you might have given Namjoon this much pleasure. But you soon find yourself trying to dissociate him from the main character once he returns to his obsessive tendencies.

...She told me this was it, that we couldn’t act on our urges ever again. She had given me the taste of heaven and was now locking the gate forever. I promised her that I would respect her decision, but there was no way I could abide. If she refused to let me in, I would simply drag her down to hell with me...

You find yourself overwhelmed with anxiety, your heart rate and thoughts racing from the ongoing similarities.

...I left a gift at her house, with the hopes that she would enjoy my hard work, with the dream that she would finally understand. She didn’t realize until it was too late that I had drugged her drink, that I had never left but was spying through the bedroom door. I had left it slightly ajar, wanting nothing more than to watch her expression as everything unraveled...

You breathing stops as you look over to your bedroom, the door resting open ever so slightly.

...It was a strong sedative that I used to dose her. The first recorded side effect is often dizziness...

Your hand clings to the couch in an attempt to stay upright as you head swims.

...Followed by loss of motor control...

Your legs begin to tingle, falling numb beneath you, any hope of fleeing snatched away.

...And finally the drug snares the remaining senses from it’s victims before a complete loss of consciousness. She didn’t last long...

Your hearing becomes muffled, and your eyes widen with terror trying to keep them from succumbing to the darkness that slowly closes in on you. The last sight you witness before falling under is the door opening to reveal Namjoon, wearing the smirk you used to love so much.

...

You fight through the haze of exhaustion to bring your mind to where you are. Lying down on your side in a bed you stare at a wall that you know to be in Namjoon’s home. Warm fingertips brush your shoulder as you slowly wake, followed by the soft press of lips to your skin.

You try to lift a hand to cradle your head and relieve the dull ache that’s surfacing, but you find your arms restrained, pulled behind your back and tied in place. You jerk at the bonds in an attempt you free yourself, but now a large hand holds you in place too.

“Don’t move, you’ll only hurt yourself.” Namjoon’s voice trails from behind you, his soft tone attempts to convey comfort but sends you into a panic as you remember his actions.

“Namjoon?” You ask with a sob.

“Shhhh, I’m right here.”

“W-why?” You stutter as your chest begins to heave, “Why did you do this?”

“I thought that was obvious.” He places the journal you were just reading on the bed next to you. “You refused to see reason so I tried to show you. This is everything I feel for you, everything I’ve done for you, and yet you still push me away. I don’t want to work together, I don’t want to be friends if it means I can’t have you. I’ll take you away from everything so you don’t have to make that choice.” He lowers his lips to your ear his tone becoming hushed as if he is sharing a desperate desire. “I’ll be the villain so you can be mine.”

“Namjoon please, just let me go.” Your fingers attempt to find the knots in the binding, straining for any hope of release.

“But that’s not where the story goes next, I would rather continue where you left off. I have so much more in store for you, for us.” He paces around the bed finally coming into your view. A sly smile crosses his face as he sits down on the mattress in front of you. A finger raises your chin so you meet his eyes. “Shall I read the end to you? I think you’ll like it. I took your advice.”

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shannygoatgruff · 4 years

Text

Grown & SeXY - Chapter 1

Header made by the talented @flowers-in-your-hayr

For @youbloodymadgenius for your 400 Followers Writing Challenge. Congrats on your success!

Genre: Romance/Comedy

Pairing: Modern Ivar x Mature OC

Warning: Language/mild angst/Sexual content

Rating: M

Summary: A relationship between Generations X & Y will help this XX & XY learn a lot about themselves, each other, and love. Cougar/cub relationships aren’t always just about a midlife crisis and arm candy.

A/N: I got the concept for this story from a conversation I was having with @youbloodymadgenius. I hope I do it justice. This story is for you!

Chapter 1

Oh, hey girl, hey!

Chile, do I have some tea to spill!

This tea is piping hot, lemon-honey, tea with a hint of peppermint; that’s how good it is. I have been keeping this in for so long, I’m surprised a bitch hasn’t bit her tongue off trying to keep quiet. But, I have to talk to somebody about this, and I trust you, girl. We’ve been good girlfriends for a long time now. I know you’re not going to say anything to anybody, right? I didn’t think so. I knew you were cool.

Okay, so before we begin I need to lay some ground rules. I don’t want to get into this and all of sudden you start feeling some type of way or something, or there be some sort of misunderstanding that we could have settled right here in the beginning. You know how some people get all uppity and shit.

First, I’m not a writer - I’m a storyteller and there’s a big fucking difference. Writers, write; they use language as an art form, and shit like grammar and diction is important to them and they usually use them pretty accurately. Storytellers, like me? We don’t give a fuck. We paint pictures by speaking the language of the people, so that the bitches in the back can understand what the fuck is going on.

So, if you don’t want to know about how a bad-ass cougar found herself hooked up with a fucking snack-tastic cub from someone who doesn’t give a fuck all about ending a sentence with a preposition, then, honey, feel free to read something else. If my language is a bit too common or colorful for you, then mayhaps, I could recommend some really well-written Shakespearean Sonnets or the like, by some other real writers. But if you just want to dish and hear some good shit, then bitch, do I have some gossip to tell you!

Okay, next, the story I’m about to tell you is true. This shit is real and it happened to me my friend. So, to protect my good girlfriend, I’m going to change the names of the mofos involved. If that means the names of these folks sound made up, it’s because bitch, they are! It’s not like where we live is all that big. You might actually know some of these people and the last thing I want is for you to go run-and-tell-that I said some shit, about so-and-so, when I really didn’t, because I said something else about some bitch that I made up.

Um, what else? Oh yeah, everything I’m going to tell you is the gospel, according to me. Even if I wasn’t there, I have been working, like fucking Luther out here in these streets, to piecing this shit together and this is the only version that makes sense. So if you disagree, fine...fight me. But you better not ask them; that’s all I know. We’ve already established the good girlfriend code of conduct. Right?

Now, if any of this shit starts to sound familiar to you just nod your head and play along. If you happen to see these people in real-life, just keep going about your business, like you don’t know anything. Don’t give them a side-eye, or raise the obligatory eyebrow when you see them. Definitely don’t be like that bitch Shelly that time I told her that stuff about Erik and Angie. Do you know that bitch put everybody on blast and was like, “I knew he looked the type to eat booty,” all loud and shit in the Target.

You can’t be telling the church’s business to the entire Target like that! You are supposed to see them in the store, nod, and keep it fucking moving. What I’m telling you ain’t nobody’s business and they definitely don’t need to know that you know all the shit that went down with them. You know what? Matter of fact, I’m going to send you a non-disclosure contract in your email. Just sign it and send it back. I don’t want zero problems, big fella.

Okay, now that we got the formalities out of the way, and everybody knows how the fuck to act, what’s next? Why am I giving you the gossip? I’m doing this shit to save your life, bitch because I care. See, this is a story about being grown and sexy. Yes, bitch! Say it again! GROWN & SEXY!!! And we all will be grown and sexy, one day.

I know, you probably think grown & sexy means all about getting the “D”. Well, it is…but not really. Don’t get me wrong, we’re going to get to that. There will be plenty of pipe laid. How the hell can you be grown & sexy without some feel good? But, it’s about a movement - a way of life. It’s a phase you go through when you get to a point where you are living your best life and just don’t give a fuck anymore.

Listen Linda, this story here, isn’t just about sex, it’s about timing. See, look at all the young bitches, rolling their eyes. They just want to hit it and quit it. I can’t with them. I’m not even addressing them and their foolishness. In fact, all the young bitches, y’all can feel free to exit - stage left, please.

The rest of us, that are past all that thotting and trotting, we know that the universe has a fucked up sense of humor and it only gives us these short ass life spans, filled with teeny-tiny windows of opportunity to cram all of this amazing shit into. Then, on one side, we have one cosmic force presenting something fantastic, while another on the other side, there is another force that throws mad shade. Of course, we pay attention to the shady shit and usually miss out on that brief moment of something that could have made us really fucking happy. Don’t worry, I’m not about to start talking about astrology, or reading crystals. Besides my horoscope, I don’t know what any the fuck any of that means.

What it means to what the fuck I’m talking about is, this could be considered a cautionary tale about missed opportunities, or being so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you can’t see a good thing when it was right in front of you. It’s definitely about family, growing up, acceptance and happiness; about finding and loving yourself and then being able to show that love to someone else.

Of course, you can’t have all that good shit without the bad. So, let’s see…I’ll throw in some insecurities, doubt, utter stupidity, realizing that just because something looks and feels good, doesn’t mean it’s right. Hell, my story this story, may even be about having to break your own heart to save someone else’s. Ah, we’ll see if I can actually get to that part. It’s not I got all damn day, you know?

So…where do I begin?

Oh, okay. You know that club, Bottom’s Up, on the corner of Fourth and Lexington? The one with that has the pool tables on the upper level and that cute little Karaoke room? Well that’s where all this shit started…

There were a lot of people at Bottom’s Up for a Wednesday night.

Ivar already had an attitude because he was late. He knew that showing up even a few minutes late for the weekly pool game with his siblings meant that he wouldn’t get to pick his opponent and if he got stuck playing against Bjorn one more time, he was going to quit showing up to these fucking games all together.

He hated playing Bjorn. No matter what he tried, he could never beat his oldest brother. Most of the time, he never even got a chance to get his cue on the table when he played against him. If he had any other sibling as his opponent, he stood a fair chance of winning, but he was sure that Bjorn cheated. It was enough to piss him off just thinking about it.

Ivar glanced at the small landing where the pool tables were and saw the five varying shades of blonde hair just as the top of the stairs. Damn, they were all already there. They had probably already picked games, meaning he was going to have another shitty night at shooting pool. There went his chance of getting back the money Sigurd took off of him last week. He needed that money, too. He was running low on gas and his brakes started making a loud squeaking sound this morning. Now, if he could just play against Ubbe...he knew for sure he could double their bet and make all of his money back, and then some.

Deciding to get a drink before he met his family upstairs, he made his way to the bar, and signaled for the bartender. While he waited he carefully tried to remove his jacket without bumping into anyone. Where the fuck did all these people come from? They had been coming to this lounge for a few months and on Wednesdays there were never more than 25 people in there. It wasn’t like it was wall-to-wall people in there now, but it was definitely enough to make him feel annoyed.

Plus, all those extra people were making it hot in there. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn a long sleeve t-shirt, after all. But with all the rain and cold nights, lately, he wasn’t quite sure how to dress. The shirt, a thin pale blue cotton, was a deep V-neck, showing the top of his muscular pecs and just a hint of his shoulder tat that trailed over to the center of his chest, was tucked lazily into the front of his distressed, blue jeans and left hanging out of the back. A pair of brown Timberland shoes completed his outfit, giving him that ‘I’m not trying too hard to look like I’m trying to look good’, look. Believe me, he wore it well.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked walking over to where Ivar stood, pouring beers from the tap for other patrons further down the bar.

“Can I get a Jame…,” As soon as he started talking he heard a feminine voice coming from his left. He stopped mid-sentence and looked to see where the voice was coming from, “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said smiling at the shorter woman next to him. When she turned her head toward him and offered him a smile, his posture changed. “I didn’t see you. Please, go ahead.”

She raised her brows and continued smiling at him, “Thanks.” Man, he was a cutie, but she was sent to the bar for drinks, not dicks. Turning back to face the bartender, she restarted her order, “Um, I need a Johnny Walker Blue, a Malibu and Pineapple, and a Captain & Diet.” She turned back to him and bowed, a sign for him to continue with his order.

“I’ll just take a Jameson,” Ivar told the bartender. When he turned back to the woman, he noticed she had turned away from him and was looking at her phone. As casually as he could, he leaned his head to the side to get a look at her full body. She couldn’t have been more than 5’3”, even with the heel on those boots. She had a great complexion, the chartreuse wrap shirt with bell sleeves brought the olive tones out in her caramel skin and softened her chocolate eyes. And of course, Ivar wondered how in the hell did a woman with an ass and hips that size and a waist that small, found jeans that fit. He found himself raising his brow at the thought.

This was awkward. He wanted to say something to her, but she didn’t seem to notice that he was even standing there. He couldn’t remember a time in recent history when a woman didn’t notice him, or when he had to start a conversation. What exactly was he supposed to say, anyway? If he wasn’t drunk or being pursued, he wasn’t quite sure how this was supposed to go.

Just why wasn’t she trying to talk to him, anyway? He looked good tonight, he just got his hair cut and this was a new shirt. The silver herringbone necklace and the pale blue of his shirt, made his eyes look more of a steel blue, which he thought was the most attractive on him. He smelled good - he had taken some cologne out of his father’s bathroom and claimed it as his own. It smelled good on his dad, so he knew it smelled good on him. What the hell was this lady’s problem?

“I’m sorry, but I think I know you from somewhere.” The woman spoke, pulling Ivar out of his head for a moment. When he turned to face her, she was facing him with her hand on her hip and her brows were knitted together, as she tried to think. “Oh my God, that sounded like a line, didn’t it? I swear, it’s not. You just look so familiar.”

Ivar chuckled. For a minute there he thought he was losing his touch. “No, it doesn’t sound like a line at all.” He easily rested his arm on the bar, as he turned to face her, shortening the distance them. “I’m sure I would remember meeting someone as beautiful as you before.”

Her eyes widened uncomfortably, as she tried to take a half step back before she bumped into the stool next to her. She turned to see what she had bumped into before turning back to him. He was cute and all, but that’s not why she started talking to him. What was with guys these days? “Aww, thanks. That’s really sweet, but…”

“I’m sure, not half as sweet as you are,” Ivar licked his bottom lip, and his long lashes blinked over his beautiful blue eyes, momentarily catching her off guard.

“Oh, honey,” she dared to reach out and touch him. Damn, he had a nice arm. She could feel the large expanse of his bicep flex under her hand as her fingers drummed against it, “I’m sure I have shoes older than you.”

Ivar shrugged. What did that have to do with anything? “You’re only as old as you feel…”

“Hey,” Another masculine voice came from behind them, followed by a swift smack to the back of Ivar’s head, “you buying for everyone?” Ivar rolled his eyes before he turned around to face his brother. Narrowing his eyes at the older, taller man, he cursed the fact that they were related.

“Oh. My. God!” The woman next to Ivar said shifting her weight to one hip with a huge smile on her face. If Ivar thought she was pretty before, she was absolutely beautiful when she gave a genuine smile. “Bjorn Ragnarsson?”

“Soli?” Bjorn made this weird groaning sound as he bent down and picked the small woman up from the floor, wrapping her in a bear hug. “Oh my, God! I haven’t seen you in forever. How have you been?”

Who the hell was this woman and how the hell did she know his brother? Ivar stood back watching the scene unfold and tried to stop his lip from curling. “I’m good! We just moved back a little over a year ago. How are you, BJ? How’s your family?”

“We’re good. My parents are still in the neighborhood.” Bjorn tried his best not to smile at the look on Ivar’s face, “Everybody else is doing fine. And I see you’ve found Baby Ivey here?”’

“Nooooooo!” she shrieked, cheeks turning red, “This is Baby Ivey?” She held her hand down by her knee to the height she remembered him as a toddler, then looking up at the sexy man that towered over her now, “Little Ivar Ragnarsson…well fuck me. That’s why you look so familiar.” This time she patted his thigh in what she hoped was in a platonic fashion. “I know you don’t remember me, but I was really good friends with your sister.” She chuckled when he shook his head, “I think you went to school with my son, too. Miguel Larson.”

Miguel Larson? Who the hell was Miguel Larson? The only Larson he knew from high school was this annoying, skinny kid who was into anime… “Wait, Mani Larson?” No fucking way. Did she just nod? She was Mani Larson’s mom? Mani Larson was only like two years younger than him. What was happening here? There was no way in hell that this woman had a kid his age.

“Yeah, bro. Me, Soli & Gyda all went to high school together. She even turned me down when I asked her to my senior prom.” Bjorn placed his hand over his heart and pouted his lip as if he was hurt.

Shaking her head, Soli reached over and squeezed Bjorn’s chest as he flexed under his shirt for her. She opened her mouth in shock and appreciation, “Oh, my God. I know right? How drunk was I? What the fuck was wrong with me?”

Could Bjorn’s grin get any bigger? He was enjoying this. He could read Ivar’s body language from upstairs when he saw him at the bar. He just knew from the way he was standing down there, that instead of being upstairs with the family, his brother was trying to push up on some girl at the bar. That’s the only reason that he came downstairs to fuck with him. But, not only did Bjorn get to run into an old friend, he also got to cock-block his little brother. The gods were smiling on him today. “Soli and Gyda were cheerleaders when I was on the football team.”

“How is Gyda?” Soli asked, turning to the bar to push her drinks closer to her and slide the bartender her credit card. She missed the little eye exchange between the brothers in the process.

Bjorn turned around to scan the raised platforms where the pool tables were, “She’s here, actually. We come here for our weekly pool game. She would die to see you.”

“Okay. Let me take this stuff over to my girls, and I’ll come up and find you guys in a few.” Hugging him one more time and squeezing his arms for good measure, Soli shook her head in disbelief, “I can’t believe I ran into you, BJ. It’s so good to see you.” She turned around to face Ivar who was standing there watching his brother and what he had hoped was going to be his conquest for the evening chatting it up like two girlfriends, “It was nice to see you again, too, Ivar.” She wasn’t sure if she should be embarrassed for him, or humiliated for herself, at the moment.

“Yeah, you too, Mrs. Larson.” Mrs. Larson…what the fuck? He just wanted to leave out the bar and come back in to start the night over.

She held up a finger to him to stop him from calling her that hideous name, “I haven’t been Mrs. Larson in a very long time. I’m just Marisol,” She tilted her head in such a way that her hair covered part of her face hiding her blush. “But you can call me, Sonni, or Soli. Whatever,” she shrugged, and tucked her top lip between teeth at the sight of his smile.

Why were they making these young boys so goddamn cute these days? If they didn’t stop, or if she didn’t get laid soon, she was going have to call the people on herself. She had known this boy when he was an infant.

That meant he was around her son’s age, and Mani was what 21-22? So Ivar was born right around the time she graduated from high school? That was illegal somewhere, right? Yeah, he was of age. But, whose age? Mani’s? Oh that was just nasty.

What the hell did she have in common with a boy that young? Hot, sweaty, animal sex… but other than that? She was so past that stage in her life.

No, what she was going to do was go back to her table and enjoy her happy hour, and just before she left for the night, she would go up and see Gyda. She would be staying far the fuck away from this little snack, right there. She was not going to allow herself to think about whether or not he was old enough to have chest hair, yet, or what that clean-shaven face felt like rubbing against her thighs.

Ivar could have sworn he swore he saw Soli blush, as she collected her drinks and made her way back to her corner of the lounge. What in the hell just happened? Fucking Bjorn, “You dick,” Ivar grabbed his drink and followed behind his brother up the stairs, “What the fuck was that? She turned me down for the prom…”

Bjorn laughed his way up toward the three tables he and his siblings commandeered. “You big mad, bro?” He grabbed his little brother by the shoulders and squeezed lovingly. Parading Ivar in front of his siblings, he patted his cheek like a child, “I did you a favor. She would break your heart, balls, and everything else. That, my friend, is not for you.” He turned Ivar to face the direction of Soli’s table, of which they had a clear view. “Guys, Lil’ Man here, thinks he can handle Marisol Peña,” Bjorn pointed in the direction of the petite, curvy brunette, dancing at the table, sipping on a cocktail through a straw.

“Sonni? My Marisol?” Gyda asked, turning to look at Ivar, “Ivey, Sonni’s my age.”

Bjorn nodded, “Exactly. That, is a grown-ass woman. You, are still a young Thunder Cat.”

“You sure about that?” Were they all fucking crazy? Did they know about him? There was a reason he earned the moniker Ivar “The Boneless” in college: when his third leg came out, that shit was 100% pure muscle! If he was given the chance, he would fuck that forty-something-year-old woman back into her twenties. “Just because you ain’t never had no game, don’t mean that I don’t.”

“Bitch, please,” Bjorn said picking up his beer taking a big swallow. “You ain’t had pussy, since it had you.”

Ivar could feel himself getting irritated. It was Bjorn’s fault that he was sitting up there being heckled by them instead of at the bar still talking to Soli. Plus, he hated when he was the butt of their jokes and they were all laughing at him. Even Hvitserk was smiling around his hot wings, and he could tell Ubbe was trying to keep a straight face. The only one who wasn’t laughing was Gyda, but she was too busy shooting Bjorn a look that pleaded with him to stop teasing him.

“Beege…you married every bitch you fucked. That ain’t game, brah. That’s being a whipped, bitch.” Ivar raised his glass to his brother before slamming the entire drink down his throat. “Now are we gonna play or what?” Grabbing a pool cue off the wall rack, and rolled his eyes. “I’m calling game…Ubbe? You feel like getting your ass beat?”

For the rest of the night, he tried to act disinterested in what was going on at the table below them, but the truth was every so often, he found himself glancing down to the floor to see if she was still down there or if she was finally on her way up to where they were sitting. There were quite a few times where they caught each other’s eye, peeking over the railing to see if what the other one was doing. Each time it happened, they would both smile and turn away.

Ivar didn’t know what it was about her that had him so interested. Maybe it was because no one thought that he could, or maybe it was just because she was beautiful. Whatever it was, she was a challenge, and he liked it. This wasn’t going to be the last time Ivar talked to Soli. He was going to make sure of that.

Alright, so there you have it. That’s how we they met. I know, it was just enough to wet your whistle, but I’m just going to let you chew on that tasty little tidbit for a minute. You know I gotta leave you wanting to come back for more, honey...

But seriously, though, I gotta run. But, we’re going to talk again soon. I gotta tell you about what happened when Marisol told her son that she ran into Ivar. Chiiiillllleeee....

Master List

Chapter 2

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @idea-garden @kol--mikaelson @mooniemouse @didiintheblog @waiting4inspiration @tempt-ress @where-beauty-goes-to-die @crazyaboutmotleycrue @oddsnendsfanfics @geekandbooknerd @ivarthebloodyking @honestsycrets @xbellaxcarolinax @zuxiezendler @inforapound

#alex andersen #Alex hoegh #alex hogh andersen #alex høgh andersen #alex hogh fanfiction #viking fanfic #Vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfiction #modern ivar #bjorn ironside #ivar ragnarsson #bjorn ragnarsson #grown & seXY #usershannygoatgruff #shannygoatgruff #shannyland #alex høgh fanfiction #alex høgh andersen fanfiction

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sonicringbond · 3 years

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Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 42

With character mindsets out of the way, it’s time to set the stage. Well, Blister’s mindset still needs to be set, but right now they have arrived at the peculiar city in the sky. What will they find there? Well, find out for yourself in...

“Really, a creepy place like this would do a lot better with some ghosts,” Rosy teased as she jumped from Blister’s ship to the stretch of concrete and asphalt that they docked at, “then we could make a test of courage out of it!”

“I’d rather not have more ghosts after the last time we met some,” Draw tried as per usual to put a damper on Rosy’s enthusiasm as he walked down the gangplank with Sonic and Blister. For his efforts Rosy stuck her tongue out at him.

“You’re being no fun today,” Rosy teased her koala companion and he rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, you weirdo girl.”

“It’s Rosy!”

There was a comfort that Rosy found in the exchange with Draw and she smiled brightly even in the dreary place. Sonic and Blister were both being more careful than Rosy was though.

“Be careful while having fun,” Blister warned as she tested the weight of her backpack. “My instruments were acting weird as we approached. I couldn’t rely on them to dock at all.”

“You were able to dock an airship on your own? That’s amazing!”

“Well, I don’t really have any choice with a golem hunter on board,” Blister gave Draw a weary glance. “It’s not like I can use my autogolems if they just get broken for coming out.”

“So, the Engineers do use autogolems too,” Rosy acknowledged thoughtfully, before switching gears and spinning over to place her hands on Draw’s shoulders. He gave her a look, but Rosy continued unbothered. “But I’m sure Draw wouldn’t break yours. Well, as long as they aren’t powered by fairies.”

“Everything the Engineers make are powered by Rings or steam, so no exploiting any mythical creatures,” Blister assured Rosy, Draw, and the fairy in the group, Mote. “Besides, the way Preserver autogolems work is a total mystery. It doesn’t make sense how the energy of a living thing is converted into a kinetic energy.”

“Sounds like the type of guys Eggman would get along with,” Sonic finally added his voice to conversation as he strolled off the gangplank and looked around.

Rosy noticed Sonic was rubbing the underside of his nose with his pointer finger and wondered if he was sensing danger. She couldn’t leave him worried though and risked getting teased herself to lighten his mood. “Oh~, forget that mean old man. I’ve gotten over being embarrassed by you talking like that about us and want to hear more! Come on Sonic, say something romantic~♥”

“Keep dreaming, kid,” Sonic winked at Rosy and made her puff up her cheeks as she knew exactly what he meant.

“Ooh~! Why couldn’t you play along nicely this time now that I’m ready for you!”

“Instead of play, perhaps we could get to work looking for a Ring Radio for my ship,” Blister suggested, walking away from her vessel. Sonic eyed her curiously and took up pace beside her.

“I’m all for getting this over with, but I thought we were supposed to do the dangerous stuff while you stayed back on the ship?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t slow you down.” Blister smiled at Sonic confidently. Her confidence did not last however as she lifted her left hand up and stared at it as she flexed the flat fingers of her clockwork arm. “Though I haven’t gone for a run myself since before I lost my arm. I hope I’m not too rusty.”

“You don’t mean to say you can keep up with us, do you? Sonic asked having a hard time believing it. “There aren’t too many who can, and even out of those with my speed few who can match my pace.”

“Just check your radio for a signal and I’m sure we’ll be fine. I think I might actually be excited for the first time in a while. A shame it’ll be best to split you flowers up for this little trip.”

“Flowers?” Sonic asked while checking his wrist device. The detected signal on the device told Sonic all he needed to know, and he was distracted from his question. “Well, sure enough there is a signal here. And not one we recognize.”

“I wonder if there’s anyone using it?” Rosy pressed her finger to her cheek and mused a moment. That moment was short lived and quickly followed up with her deciding to check as she worked her wrist device and cheerily called into it. “Hello~! Is there anyone home!”

“You’re going to get us killed, you weirdo girl!” Draw snapped at Rosy.

“Don’t say that!” Rosy chided him, but as her energy was spilt between her wrist device and him, she wasn’t overbearing. The lack of a response from her device though made her puff up her cheeks. “Phooey! I guess no one lives here either.”

“Gotta admit, it’d be kind of hard too.”

~Sonic wasn’t wrong. For the first time since I had been exploring the lands under Yolk, there were no plants growing over everything. They had been at one point in time, but they had all withered and died, only a thick layer of yellowed leaves that lined the streets and building floors showing they had once lived. It was kind of creepy in a different way than the rest of the weird little city as well since leaves don’t usually last like this. They crumbled easily enough to the touch, but the wind left in our wakes as we ran through the twisted city streets didn’t seem to hurt them and they simply would settle back down were they had last been.

~The leaves weren’t the only creepy thing. Yolk seemed even bigger from the city than Blister’s airship, and no matter where I ran it seemed to watch me from behind the clouds just above the horizon. And the storm clouds didn’t bring rain and thunder, but rather a snow of ash. I’m starting to think this place might be cursed. At the very least, it’s weird and unnatural.

~How unnatural? I wanted to check the size of the city when we first set out, so I ran a lap all the way around it with Draw clinging to my back and the location of the horizon never changed. And I came back around from what should have been the city’s underside. It’s not right here. It really isn’t.~

“What now,” Draw asked as Rosy stopped atop a skyscraper that tilted a full thirty degrees off its axis.

Watching the storm clouds and the ash that fell silently from them, Rosy puffed up her cheeks and exhaled sharply from her nose. “This place is way to dreary to be any fun. So how about we see if we can’t find any beneath the surface. Does that sound good, Sonic?”

-Just keep your radio channel open,- Sonic’s voice came across Rosy’s wrist device. -This place is a lot larger than it looks. Like several places are trying to fit in one spot and not pulling it off.-

-I’ve also seen signs of golem activity,- Blister’s voice came across after Sonic’s. -Probably more than enough for our little hunter to earn his keep.-

“Don’t talk like that about me!” Draw complained from Rosy’s back. “I’m not a kid!”

-Yet you were clinging to Ms. Rose’s back when we agreed to split up…-

“That’s because it’s the easiest way to not lose her.”

“I’m not that bad,” Rosy laughed, but she smiled brighter as she looked down at the decayed city that awaited her challenge. “But at least it sounds like this adventure is going to be exciting!”

Scene 42 · CLEARED Snowflake, to be continued

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On the shorter side, but now the exposition is done and it’s time to start elevating the series of events. A Ring Radio is here, and it’s on, but why? And Golems here as well. Mysteries, mysteries. If I do this right, this set of “episodes” will be some of my most important at this stage of the story yet. I hope everyone is as excited for them as I am!

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Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – Lost in the Snow – Yoshitaka Suzuki – FINAL FANTASY XV Original Soundtrack (Volume 2【1/2】)

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fan fiction #sonic au #sonic au series #sonic ring bond #the journey #classic amy #amy rose #rosy the rascal #au amy #amy redesign #sonic oc #patch #draw the koala #blister the mouse

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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 3 years

Text

Dinner and a Cat

The cat was nowhere to be seen when I got home that afternoon, and the back door was slightly ajar. I turned off the TV, put away groceries, and made myself a giant mug of hot chocolate.

Honestly, because I could.

A couple of friends had texted me while I’d been out, and I invited them over for dinner. Still, there was time to enjoy some delicious beverage in silence before I needed to start cooking. I wanted to savor the silence.

I work in the retail industry, and some people really have a thing about their morning drink. It’s scary, actually. It’s a coffee, lady. So, when I don’t have to work, I like spending my time with people and things that don’t turn into “Karen” at the slightest provocation.

A cool autumn breeze swept down the street as I stood on my front porch, cradling my mug like it was my first-born child. The forecast for the evening promised rain, which would quickly turn to snow — first of the season — so my mind wandered toward the cat. Would it end up spending the night outdoors? Worry settled in the pit of my stomach.

“If you’re out there, kitty, you’re welcome back anytime,” I said to no one in particular.

I mean, I talk to things. OK?

And a few minutes later, it hopped onto the porch as if summoned and sat on the welcome mat. In the daytime, it still looked like it could use about a month’s worth of decent meals, but when the black furball wasn’t shivering, it looked a lot more alive.

“Hey, buddy,” I said.

It hissed at me.

“Not a fan of ‘buddy,’ huh? Yeah, me neither. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Meow.”

“How about Kai? That was the name of my favorite cartoon character when I was a kid.”

“Meow.”

I nodded to myself. “For a cat, you’re basically a genius, so if you’re cool with it, I’m cool with it. I got some real chicken. I mean… I got cat food, obviously, but also actual chicken. I’ll make you some. It’ll probably taste better than kibble anyway.”

The cat got up from my welcome mat and walked into the house, at which point it walked around both floors once. I’d never seen a cat patrol its territory before; Tasha had been an entirely indoor cat. The idea of sharing with anyone had never crossed that kitten’s mind. Kai, on the other hand, took its sweet time and then settled down on the couch.

“Meow.”

Ah, right, the cat wants to watch Netflix. Good thing it doesn’t cost any extra to just have it going in the background all day. I restarted whatever drama was on — in Korean at that — and then headed to the kitchen.

***

Nat and Em came over around seven. By then, I’d cooked up a bit of a storm. I love cooking; it’s what I do when I need to relax. I am not much of an eater, though, so it was nice to have company over.

Nat’s a software engineer for a large aerospace company, and Emily basically performs magic with clay and her hands. We’ve known each other since we were in middle school, although we’d drifted apart when we all headed off to different colleges. It was sheer luck that all three of us now lived in the state and had time to see each other occasionally.

The doorbell rang, and Kai sat up like it was expecting trouble.

“It’s my friends,” I told it — like it was important for the weird furball to know who was at the door.

I wiped my hands clean on an apron and sprinted to let whoever it was in. Natalie Gomez stood on the other side, stunning as always. It doesn’t matter what the woman wears; she always looks like she’s got her shit together. That evening, Nat was wearing a fancy turtleneck sweater and hip-hugging jeans. And she has a lot of beautiful hips in need of hugging.

“Love the sweater,” I said as I gestured for her to come inside. We hugged because she’s a hugger, and there’s no escape. “How’s it going?”

“Eh, you know. Same shit, different day. Oh my god, your place smells amazing.”

I let go, and she bounced inside. Shrugging, I muttered, “You know me. Stress cooking.”

“Yeah, but you’re talented. And I’m not just saying that, either. Hey, looks like you got a new cat.”

I closed the door and followed Nat into the living room. “More like, it adopted me last night. I don’t think it’s dangerous, but maybe give it some space.”

“Does he bite?”

“I don’t even know that it’s a ‘he,’ honestly.” I grabbed a bottle of wine out of the fridge. “Want a glass of um… something red?”

The brown-eyed engineer came over and leaned against the cabinets. “Shit, yes, please. Sorry, it’s been a week. We’re releasing a new product, and that’s always stressful.”

“Well, take a seat, drink some wine, and food should be done in minutes.”

Nat accepted the offered glass and took a gulp. “What about you? How’s Iris doing?”

“Uh, just doing… I guess.” Mom had been on my mind all day, but I wasn’t going to ruin the evening talking about stuff I couldn’t change. “Work’s been busy, and I think I need to make time to go see my family this holiday season.” I tried a smile on for size. “But you know, good stuff, too. I got the library internship, and that starts in a week.”

“Good for you! I remember you gushing about that. I’m so glad everything worked out. Are you still going to work at the cafe?”

I frowned. “I’m not sure, to be honest. The money’s better at the cafe, but I can’t work eighty hours a week, either.”

“No, you can’t. And you have got to take care of you.” Nat smiled. “Look, even Mr. or Mrs. Kitty thinks so.”

Kai had gotten up from its comfy perch on the couch and came over to sit by my feet. I looked down at the curious furball and said, “I bet you’re hungry. How about some seared chicken?”

I’d always cooked for Tasha because I like cooking, and my princess of a cat had enjoyed eating the food I made. I remember spending hours on Google, looking at cat-friendly recipes. After I’d first adopted Tasha, Dr. Hopkins spent a week straight reassuring me that cats were carnivores and could survive on a steady supply of live mice.

So, cooking for Kai was pretty much a matter of pulling out the old recipe book, picking something that sounded interesting, and then making it happen. I arranged the food on a long, narrow plate and set it down on the floor in a kitchen corner, away from us humans. The furball sniffed at the food and then went for it.

“You said it adopted you?” Nat gestured at the cat with her wine glass.

“Something like that. I mean, it was out on my porch last night, and it’s come back into the house a couple of times now.”

“I think you should go back to the shelter and get yourself another pet.”

“I keep thinking about it, and I don’t know, I’m just not home enough to really give a pet the love it deserves.”

“I thought cats were independent,” said the human who never actually had any pets and didn’t want them. Nat had her husband and her girlfriend, and that was enough for her.

I shrugged. “I mean, this sweetheart, maybe. Most cats need at least some attention.”

From the corner, the cat hissed at me like it knew I’d called it a sweetheart. The doorbell rang again, and Nat waved at me to stay put. “I’ll get it. It’s probably Emily.”

A few moments later, a familiar wan face appeared in the kitchen doorframe. Sammy, age three, followed by his mother, Emily, who looked absolutely beat. I knew she worked crazy hours during the fall semester — she taught at a local art college, made pottery, and volunteered for a local nonprofit. And she had a little boy she was raising by herself.

“Hey, Sammy!”

“Good evening, Miss Iris,” said the polite, dark-eyed kiddo. “Ooh, kitty.”

“Can you do me a huge favor?” I asked the little boy.

“Yeah!”

“Can you give kitty a little space tonight? It’s shy.”

Kai hissed at me again but didn’t budge from its food. The boy looked at the cat, all wide-eyed and interested, but his mom put a hand on his shoulder. I handed Emily a glass of wine and gave her a mercifully brief hug. I hadn’t seen Em for the better part of two months, and I suspected she needed a girls’ night out.

“Thanks,” the redhead whispered.

I gave her a thumbs up and checked on the oven. “Well, dinner is basically done. Why don’t you three get comfortable on the couch, and I’ll bring over the tasty, tasty food.”

“Let me give you a hand,” Nat offered. “Meanwhile, Em can tell us all about her students this semester.”

From the living room, Emily groaned. “Don’t get me started. I swear college students nowadays can’t get their noses out of their cellphones long enough to look at fine art.”

I dished up some steamed and seasoned vegetables onto individual plates. I also decorated Sam’s plate while his mother regaled us with her horror stories. Kai finished its dinner but hung around the kitchen, not quite underfoot. I wondered if it didn’t like all the extra company. Tasha had been the star of the show, but I’d met shy cats before; not every animal liked being around humans it didn’t know.

We sat on the floor around the coffee table in the living room and had dinner. Nat shared with us some of her latest hiking adventures. Sammy demonstrated his ability to count to ten. Emily cheered him on. The cat settled down on the floor beside me, close enough that I could feel its warm presence, and stayed there for the duration of the evening.

For a brief moment, I could forget the troubles that haunted my waking hours and just enjoy some pleasant conversation.

And then, life went to hell, starting with the burglar-wanna-be.

#fiction #maybe its fanfiction #kitties afoot

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