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wing-ed-thing · 3 years

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Mob Wife (Kakuzu x Reader, ft. Hidan) Part IV

Synopsis: The Akatsuki are in emergency mode. Kakuzu leads Hidan to the only place he knows for sure is safe to regroup.

Word Count:

Warnings/Tags: Violence, Blackmail, Language, Fem!Reader, HouseWife!Reader, Moll!Reader, Attempt at Humor, Ceremonial Drinking of Sake, Traditional Wedding

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Finale

Notes: It’s back. Writing Hidan has got me feeling a certain way rn

It rained on your wedding day: weather fitting for, and not minded by, a criminal and a deserter. As you approached the temple, he tried to tell you many times that you were going to be turned away, but as you spoke to the shrine masters, you were greeted warmly and welcomed. You were young with a warm face that offset Kakuzu’s intimidating exterior. Everyone always loved you right away, a way about you that Kakuzu could never begin to consider replicating. With your open heart, you brought a foreign concept into his world: acceptance. The few priests and priestesses at the temple on the border of the Land of Stone looked upon you kindly, a kindness that you and Kakuzu continued to repay years later. The small village of a few hundred that housed that shrine would never see a shinobi attack. Now, only you continue to repay years later.

You could tell that Kakuzu didn’t like being in the temple in the slightest. He had never been one for religion or structure or ceremonies, so you tried not to laugh the first time you saw him in his montsuki haori hakama. You wondered how much grumbling went into getting Kakuzu in such formal attire with a goofy, lopsided grin. Even as he gazed upon your amused, upturned lips, his infamous temper laid unusually dormant. Kakuzu never thought that he would see his own wedding day. Being the kind of man he was, he never thought that he’d have one. He didn’t think that he deserved it, but for once as you stood in front of him in your shiromuku, all of his jaded thoughts seemed to fade. Of course with you, all doors opened.

Kakuzu knelt next to you at the shrine, ever stoic. He put his hair up before the ceremony and secured it neatly behind his head. You remembered it when it was short. As the priest announced your marriage to the gods, you couldn’t help but glance at Kakuzu out of the corner of your eye. He held himself together better than you imagined he would.

“Well, yes. I am an adult,” he would tell you later.

But at that moment, he received the first sakazuki. The priest's vessel tipped over the small cup two times before pouring. Kakuzu brought the dish up to his lips and took three sips: pointless seeing that neither of you had parents, but traditional nonetheless. You were taught to always honor your ancestors, but you doubted that Kakuzu felt the same. You received your cup and the same sake, taking the same three sips and the ceremony went on. The second sakazuki represented your vow to care for each other. You received a slightly larger cup and once again, you each touched the sake to your lips three times. The third represented fortune and fertility.

The Heavens, the Earth, and the People.

You offered Kakuzu a light smile as you moved to the next part of the ceremony, a gesture to assure him that it was almost over. He would have rolled his eyes in any other setting, but Kakuzu didn’t even have to speak for you to know exactly what he meant. You knew that more than anything, he was happy to be with you. Out of all the things that he had done as a shinobi, he could handle a stuffy ceremony.

“I thought you liked stuffy things,” you teased him later, parts of your robes slung over forearms and shoulders for better mobility as you walked through the gardens. Your hand rested in his as you balanced yourself on some raised, rock ledges. His expression could have easily been mistaken for exasperation as he scoffed, but you knew better. He looked happy. “You’re a shinobi. Now that’s stuffy!”

The priest had you stand and you received a flowering branch to offer to the gods. As you held the sprig in your hand, you glanced at Kakuzu. His eyes met your own and you quietly prayed over your offerings before presenting them together, stem first. You bowed together, the rituals vaguely familiar to you as you performed them.

With the blessings of the gods, you had received your rings. Your thumb ran over the skin of Kakuzu’s hand. They had a familiar gruffness to them and held smooth bumps from old scars. His fingernails were short. You slid the band onto his ring finger. The black suited him. He squeezed the fingers of your other hand. The space behind your eyes stung as you held back tears watching as he placed the ring on your hand.

Neither of you had family, so you thanked the shrine priests and priestesses and enjoyed their hospitality. You took a single picture. It was the same frame that you held in your hands now.

Kakuzu walked out a few hours ago, taking Hidan with him. Your kitchen was, for the most part, wrecked. Your doing. Your tears had since dried up and your trembling was beginning to fade. With a shaky breath, you brought yourself to your feet. You placed the picture face-down on the counter and reached for the broom in the corner. Your heart hurt, but the world continued on. And if the world continued on, so should you.

***

You didn’t want to eat, you didn’t feel hungry, but you stood over the sink anyway biting into whatever you could pull from your fridge. You cleaned up the kitchen to the best of your ability. Trash piled up in neat bins outside: splintered wood, broken plates, and any other particles of dust that you managed to sweep up. You could handle it later. At least the rest of the kitchen was spotless. You glanced down at the thick wedding band that sat in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, you bit into your bell pepper like an apple. That was the kind of night you were having.

A harsh pounding came from the front door and for a split second you wondered if your husband came back. Ex-husband. You didn’t think so. You kept your eyes on the kitchen window but the pounding continued adamantly. A slight shiver went down the back of your neck. The next farm wasn’t for miles. That was definitely not Kakuzu.

You put down your pepper and rolled out your utensil drawer. Your fingers danced across the kunai strapped to the bottom as you silently hoped that your training hadn’t worn off too horribly. The banging ceased as the doorknob began to rattle. The door swung open and you launched your kunai with immense velocity and precision. It was snatched out of the air.

“Fuck! That hurts like a bitch!”

Hidan stood in the entryway with his hand still held up and wrapped around your weapon. Blood dripped onto your floors as the kunai clattered to the ground. He shook out his palm, now sporting a deep gash. All you could do was stand and blink, wondering why he was there and if Kakuzu was with him. Hidan threw his cloak onto the rack. It slid, hardly staying on as he marched over to you. The door didn’t fit into its frame the same as it did before and there was no sign of Kakuzu.

“Can you patch me up, lady?” He looked around your kitchen for somewhere to sit, but found none. He dripped more onto your floors. You quickly guided his wrist over your sink and looked up at him. Beads of water fell down his face. You didn’t even hear the rain outside.

“What happened?” you asked sternly, your voice cracking a bit with worry. Hidan groaned.

“You fucked up my hand, can you at least fix me? I’m traumatized over here.” You sighed, yanking him forward before turning the running water on over his hand. You held it there for a second as if telling him to keep it there before running off to get your medical kit.

“Hidan, you have to tell me if there is an emergency,” you said as you heaved the box onto the counter from your spare room. You cleaned his palm with soap and disinfectant before applying pressure. While you didn’t have to worry about blood loss with Hidan, you also didn’t want him passing out on your kitchen floor either. That would make one more thing to clean up. “Hidan—” You pulled the gauze extra tight. He didn’t seem to be listening to you. —“Is there an emergency?”

“No, lady, it was just cold as fuck and Kakuzu’s got a stick up his ass that’s worse than usual. But you already know what that’s like.” The atmosphere stood still at the mention of Kakuzu’s name.

You knew that you shouldn’t worry about him. As far as you were concerned, he had just divorced you a few hours ago, and even if he hadn’t, you were certain that he could take care of himself. You apparently didn’t do a great job at masking your worry.

He usually didn’t care about the effect of his words, but as you frowned to yourself, Hidan couldn’t help but consider how sad you looked. He pursed his lips, never one for comforting others. For a split second, he wondered whether or not he should have brought up his partner at all. Two fingers gently bumped the bottom of your chin and you looked up at Hidan.

“Don’t look so down. It doesn’t look good on you.” He hesitated. “He’ll come back.”

You dropped his wrapped hand, not noticing that you’ve been drawing loops around his knuckles with your finger.

“I don’t know. He’s usually pretty certain about things and I can’t dwell on that.” You shook your head, turning the water back on to wash your own hands. “You have to go. I know that you have things to do and my— and Kakuzu won’t like that you’re here.” He pouted as you moved around him. You had blood to clean up.

“But it’s raining…” he pouted, expression falling in your peripheral. “And he’s miserable right now which means I’m miserable. C’mon let me stay, I’m miserable.”

“Hidan.” You turned to him and leaned on the doorway from your kitchen to your small living area. “Your partner doesn’t live here anymore.” You flicked on the entryway light, your bucket in hand. Hidan followed behind you, now taking your spot in the doorframe.

“But that doesn’t mean that I have to leave. You know he’s being stupid, but that doesn’t mean that I need to suffer out in the rain because Kakuzu’s a crotchety, old bastard.” You sighed, resting on the handle of your mop. You shook your head.

“I’m sure by the time you get to town the two of you can find somewhere to stay.”

A silence overtook the house again, full of raging, but unspoken thoughts. You squeezed out the yarns and tended to the floors. It, at the very least, gave you something to do. Hidan’s blood already dried part way and you scrubbed harder, but not before it was snatched out of your grip. Hidan shoved you over to take your place. The backs of your knees hit the armrest of the modest couch that you almost toppled down onto. He took to scrubbing.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“Sorry?” Hidan peered at you with his bright violet irises.

“I’m trying to be nice and ask you about your problems, so you better start chatting before I lose interest.” The mop splashed back into the bucket. “Who else do you get to talk to?” You pursed your lips. You knew that he was biding his time to wait out the rain, but his words weren’t wrong. The hurt still felt fresh and perhaps you were feeling a bit desperate to get it out of your system.

“I’m not sure what happened. I asked, but, well, you know how my… how Kakuzu is.” And you found yourself retelling the entirety of what happened: the argument, the ring, Kakuzu’s misplaced comments about children. You left out the part about the wrecked kitchen. “And then he said something about ‘now letting this happen’ which had to be the last straw for me.”

“Did you want brats?” Hidan had since stopped his cleaning. Surprisingly, he listened intently to your rambling as he propped himself against the wall. You swung your feet back and forth over the side of the couch.

“I never really thought about it before and Kakuzu and I never talked about it, so I don’t know why he brought it up.”

“Because he’s a dumbass who thinks too much. I never know what’s going on in that fucked up head of his. If I had a home to come to like this with a cute little thing in an apron—” Hidan scoffed. —“Fuck the Akatsuki. I wouldn’t be hiding you out here because of some band of losers in capes.” That made you laugh.

“You’re in the Akatsuki,” you giggled and Hidan raised a slender eyebrow.

“So? I’m the best one out of all those guys.”

“The best out of some band of losers?” The corners of Hidan’s lips turned upwards into a brief smile as he rolled his pretty irises.

“Listen, I got my devilish charms going for me which is better than Ragdoll. He looks like a fucking pin cushion.” Your hand came over your mouth as you laughed. Hidan looked down at where you sat, pride swelling in his chest at the prospect of cheering you up. But your face quickly morphed into something sentimental.

“Aw, but he’s a cute pin cushion…” Your bottom lip curled into a pout, but at least you didn’t look quite as sad as before. Hidan leaned a bit forward.

“He’s a little over a hundred-eight centimeters tall and has a big-ass nose.” You let out an amused breath. “I’d hardly consider that ‘cute’.”

“But it’s a cute nose. It’s slender and has that cute little bump in the middle.” Your voice grew quieter. Another silence, the third of Hidan’s visit.

It all felt too confusing for you. Maybe Kakuzu was never that interested in you in the first place. You shook your head then and there, much to Hidan’s confusion. Despite Kakuzu’s attitude towards most everything, you knew that he cared deeply about you. Perhaps he had grown bored. Despite ninja work not being of interest to you, you knew that many found the profession very exciting. You ran many profitable operations in the surrounding area, but more money could be made elsewhere, you knew that much. Your lifespan was nothing compared to Kakuzu’s nearly a century of living. He had done everything in life that he had wanted to do and all you had little to show for your existence.

You kept replaying his words about the time that you had. That you had enough time to do more. But if you really thought about it, you were content living the way you had been. You were happy and for a split second you considered whether or not Kakuzu actually saw himself as worthy of you. You shook your head for the second time. No, if anything, you considered it the other way around. You’d imagine that you would come off as boring and childlike to an immortal.

“That’s a lot of thinking.” Hidan had taken to wandering around the room. You hadn’t noticed. “Fuck thinking. You deserve better than taking care of some place in the middle of nowhere and running numbers on boring-ass shit.” You smiled again to yourself, something else that you didn’t notice.

“I actually like it here,” you mumbled. Hidan yawned.

“Can I stay now?” You deliberated to yourself before grabbing the bucket and the mop away from him. He didn’t do a great job, but you found yourself relatively uncaring at the moment.

“Yes, you can stay,” you sighed. Hidan was already halfway down the hall by the time you finished your sentence.

“Good because I was going to crash here anyway.”

@brokennerdalert @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @krispypotato @meme-queen-1999

Notes: Reader and Kakuzu had a Shinto wedding if anyone’s interested.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#kakuzu x reader #hidan x reader #kakuzu #hidan #Akatsuki x reader #akatsuki #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #naruto scenarios #naruto scenario #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #x you #x reader #reader insert

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

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LOVE IS STRANGE

PAIRING: Poe Dameron x reader WORD COUNT: 1.9k SUMMARY: The union of Ireca and Mohash may seem a typical cliche of love in comparison to your depressingly lonely state, but when a certain poster boy pilot emerges during the celebration, you wonder if love works in other underlying ways. A/N: I found this in my google docs, first written about a year ago. so, wohoo i present to you my first ever poe dameron content, i think? he's so charming and carelessly beautiful. please leave a comment and tell me what you think or what else you'll like to see from me 💖 gif by @john-seed from this gifst WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and getting drunk, space swearing. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

Love is strange. Delicate yet fierce. So forceful that it manages to seep through the cracks created by bombs and gunfire of war. Unexpected at times, appearing out of nowhere. Yet, it’s beautiful because it brings those with beautiful hearts and minds together, entangled in the constant dance of intimacy and devotion.

It’s what Ireca and Mohash have.

Ireca was from the Logistic division, a mechanic herself and your colleague. She was to be married to her long-time lover, Mohash, a flight engineer for the Cobalt Squadron. As far as cliches go, wartime love falls along the lines of a romance cliche. Yet, war was all you’ve known. It’s what everyone has ever known. It’s common to develop some kind of a feeling other than the constant emotions during battle—fondness, the feeling of falling in love with someone. It’s truly what we stay alive for.

Maybe that’s why you hate it so much. The absence of the feeling that everyone describes as so fucking amazing that it completes you. You feel empty most of the time. It’s definitely the reason why you put all your effort into fixing things you can rather than complicated problems and issues that continue to reside in your mind, especially in the wake of midnight.

You find yourself sitting by the makeshift bar, tucked away from the crowd of friends and colleagues. There’s music playing, the sound of drums, and the seven-string hallikset reminds you of your brief visit to Naboo three cycles ago. You’re nursing a warm cup of something that tastes closer to acid water than alcohol.

Ireca emerges from the crowd with flowers in her braided hair. She approaches you with a bright smile and calls out your name wistfully. You shoot a strained smile her way, feeling the bags under your eyes weigh a little more. “What are you doing here all by yourself, huh?” she asks, leaning against the bar with a gentle pat on your shoulder.

“I’m just really tired. Last night was rough. Plus, I’m behind schedule.” you sighed heavily, running your fingers through your hair. She flashed you a smile of sympathy as you continued, “I’m sorry, Ireca. Don’t let me ruin your night. Go, have fun.”

She raises an eyebrow as you take another sip from your cup.

"Go. I'm sure you don't want to miss Mohash's special performance." You gesture to a drunk Mohash, who seemed to be searching for the woman. Ireca merely laughed. "Oh, it sure is going to be special." With a gentle touch to your back and wave, you watch her make her way into the swarm of bodies. You're left alone once again.

You’re still trying to figure out how Mohash even got hold of any sort of alcohol and managed to smuggle it into the base. Someone must have nicked it during one of the previous missions in the Mid Rim.

You rub your eyes, half-awake at this point; your cup is placed beside you as you rest your head against your folded arms on the table. Your mind is in a daze and incapable of irrational thought, deciding it would be best to just camp out here, by the makeshift bar, for the night. You were too tired to drag yourself all the way to your quarters, which felt like miles away, in the first place.

As sleep began to weigh heavy upon your eyelids, you suddenly felt a sharp tap on your shoulder. A soft groan escaped your lips as you shifted your head, still resting on your arms, just enough to peek at your sleep intruder.

It’s Poe Dameron. Commander and Black Leader. Incredibly talented, confident, and effortlessly handsome.

Ugh, you hate this guy.

Yet, you don’t feel so tired anymore.

“Are you drunk?” There’s amusement in his voice with a tinge of mockery. It made you realize the stun you were pulling. Classic Dameron. It was supposed to be a happy ceremony, but it was truly Ireca’s fault for manipulating you into coming tonight. Parties, events, and social gatherings were never right up your alley. You prefer spending time with machinery and your greasy hands.

Poe’s eyes are gleaming under the fluorescent lights, filled with concern, but you spot the smugness in his emerging smile. A flash of a thought, you kind of want to feel his lips on yours. The image immediately stings. You want to gag.

Poe is irritating, arrogant, and careless. Not charming. Nope, definitely not charming.

You straighten yourself, trying to shake off the burning image, shoving it to the back of your head. You lift your head, propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin on the heel of your hand. “You actually think I’ll even touch that bantha shit?”

Tearing your eyes away from Poe, you reach for your cup only to realize it was empty. He casts you a look. Your eyes shoot daggers with an extended pointer finger his way, “Don’t you dare say anything, flyboy.”

Poe raises his palms in defense, lips pursing. “Wasn’t going to.”

You catch a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, one hand discreetly reaching under his tawny leather jacket. Then, a bottle of Corellian whiskey emerges, shining under the lights of the Resistance hangar. Your face lights up at the recognition of the bottle, memories of your rare trips to Corellia, sharing whiskey drinks with your colleagues. It was the only planet you’d been to ever since you joined the Resistance.

You’ve only tasted Corellian whiskey once because of how expensive it is. You’ll happily get drunk to that in a heartbeat. Drink the worry and sorrow away with the lingering taste of frankly exorbitant whiskey.

Like a child with grabby hands, you reach for the bottle, but as your fingers brush his, Poe quickly lifts it to the air and away from you. He smacks your hand away. You whine, feeling a little lightheaded. The contents of the mysterious drink are starting to kick in.

What the blinkin' mradhe muck was in that drink?

“What do you want from me? It’s not like I have a drinking problem.”

He’s giving you that look like he’s judging you, but with a hint of amusement at the slight tug of the corner of his mouth. “You definitely have a drinking problem, but... i'll let you drink this on one condition.”

“For kriff’s sake,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, glancing away. “I’m not doing any weird wacky favors for you, Dameron.”

He scoffs, expression bewildered. “Hey, I don’t ask for weird wacky favors,” He articulates his words with a defensive tone, index finger stretched to your face. You simply smack it away as Poe clicks his tongue and continues to clarify his proposition. “All I’m asking is for you to fix my ship.”

Your wide-eyed gaze flies to him, shaking your head furiously. “Oh, no, no. No. Never in a million cycles. Never in a million millennials. Nuh-uh—”

“Hey, quit being dramatic. It’s a simple job.”

Your eyes grow even wider, voice raising. “A simple job? You fly that ship of yours like we have hundreds of spare ones. I’m not putting all my time and effort into fixing a lost cause.”

“But you haven’t even—”

“No. I’m not fixing your ship, and that’s final.”

Poe blinks and you’re back to fussing over your empty cup. The chatter of the crowd grows louder as a group of pilots of the Cobalt Squadron began rendering verses of an unknown traditional drinking song to your ears. You steal a look to only find Ireca and Mohash amidst a dance, tangled in each other's arms.

He eyes closely, noticing the turn of your lips, trained eyes deem melancholy. He knows the face of a loner very well—usually recruits with lost family and homes. They enlist in a mass community of freedom fighters for the restoration of good in the universe, and to finally feel a sense of familiarity and belonging. He doesn’t know much about you but he knows you don’t truly have anyone to depend on but yourself. It’s the reason why you’re constantly fierce.

Poe clears his throat, shifting closer to you as he watches the way you carry your gradual gaze to hold his. They then flit to the space between the two of you, raised eyebrows acknowledging the weird close proximity of his presence to yours.

“Look, you’re the best mechanic there ever was and probably ever will be. So, fix my ship, and you get to have this Corellian beauty. All of it.” He sways the bottle in the air, but you don’t look at it.

“You know, that’s bribery.”

“Yes, and it’s working.”

You scoff. “No, it isn’t.”

Poe laughs. “Yes, it is. I can see it in your eyes.”

Another scoff, you look fully aggravated. “How dense do you think I am?”

“Oh, very, but let’s not get into that.”

Bickering was the only language the two of you spoke fluently when you found yourselves tangled in a conversation with one another. Thrown insults were spoken lies—saying you hate each other when you know that isn’t true. Well, at least you don’t mean it and you hoped Poe didn’t either.

You’re exhausted, physically and mentally. For once, kindness and acceptance seem to be the easiest route.

A sigh passes your lips as you blink up to the ceiling, sending a silent prayer for blessings from the Maker above. “You’re right. I am dense. Truly dense. So, yeah. Okay. I’ll fix that stupid X-Wing of yours.”

Poe blinks, dumbfounded. “Wait, really?”

With a roll of your eyes, they meet his very own wide ones. “Yes, really. Only because you complimented me. Now, hand me that Corellian whiskey before I change my mind.”

He then makes a sound that resonates between a cough and a pleasantly surprised laugh, eyes crinkling with delight. Poe happily and absentmindedly passes the whiskey to you, still reacting like your agreement is some sort of object of ridicule in the best way possible.

“Wow—Maker, you have no idea what kind of trouble you’re saving me from. If the General ever found out—man, pfft. Thank you. Thank you so much—”

A swift and unexpected motion, he is reaching you, palms clasp and either side of your face, and plants a quick peck on the side of your left temple.

Poe isn’t thinking straight.

There you are, mid-swig, lips so close to the rim of the bottle with eyes so wide. You steal a steady glance at the pilot whose expression seems to reflect yours. His hands are still on your cheeks. He’s unbelievably close to you and he’s staring with that stupid look of his.

‘Maker, preserve me.’

A cheer erupts from the crowd from across the space and just like that, the moment is gone. Whatever the moment even was. His touch is no longer on yours and his gaze shifting away.

The tension, however, is still very present.

You finally take a swig of the whiskey, wanting to ease the sudden tightness in your chest. You hum at the stinging sensation on your tongue. You catch a glimpse of Poe from the corner of your eye who busies himself with tapping his fingers nervously against the surface of the bar.

Then, in an awkward motion, you stretch your arm to him, offering the drink.

A beat. His gaze shifts between you and your hand. When he finally gives in, a smile curves upon his lips, fingers brushing against yours. They’re delicate and you smile at him. It's small, but it makes his heart skip a beat and you wonder to yourself about the strangeness of love.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron oneshot #star wars

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adorethedistance · 3 years

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A Pretty Good Bad Idea - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, peer pressure kinda, very mild n fluffy

Words: 1865

Summary: Touring with the Julie and The Phantoms cast as a dancer has been the best time of your life, and the only thing that could make it better is the reciprocated affections of a cute, blond drummer.

A/N: So this piece is 1) inspired by this interview and 2) entirely self indulgent. It’s something I haven’t been able to get out of my mind every time I’m doing warm ups, and putting it down on ,, digital paper is my only way to get rid of it lmao. I hope y’all enjoy bc I know this scenario makes me really happy and I love sharing my joy with y’all.

I let out an involuntary whine when I roll forward into my almost-center splits. My hips are so sore from yesterday’s performance I had to force myself to start stretching in the first place. Getting a head start, I arrived at the concert venue an hour earlier than call time to get my lengthy stretching routine out of the way before the other girls show up. Slowly but surely, the rest of the dancers arrived and we began getting ready together.

“I have a speaker!” Tori announces to the room upon entering which makes me jump up from my seat.

“Yes! May I do the honors and bless y’all with my musical theatre playlist?” The rest of the group cheers, exposing themselves for the theatre kids that we are. After hearing the chime that signifies the speaker-phone pairing, a few seconds pass before “Cell Block Tango” begins to play. The entire group feigns outrage but we know all the words and soon indulge in such shameful pandering. A good pre-show playlist is what really gets me amped up for performing and after yesterday’s queue of ‘today’s hits’ pop, the musical theatre is a nice change of pace.

Since I’d gotten here so early, I decided to do my makeup before stretching and I still had time to spare. The only thing left for me to do was to get in costume but I’d wait until a little closer to showtime so that I could still eat and drink for the time being. This also meant I was free to roam and bother other people as they got ready, doing what I’d done almost an hour ago.

“So, Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“What’s going on with you and Owen?” I feel my breathing halt for a microsecond before looking up at, one of the other dancers and also my friend, Ella. My eyebrows are cinched in confusion as I try my best to figure out what it is she’s getting at.

“I don’t know, Ella. What is going on with me and Owen?”

“Oh come on. Your Instagram story from yesterday?” Oh. That.

“We just went to lunch?” I seemingly ask more than state.

“Yeah. Just the two of you. Don’t hold out on us, we wanna know what’s going on!”

“Really, Ella, there’s nothing going on. We’re just getting to know each other better.”

“Just getting to know each other better? Or getting to know each other better?” Tori butts in, dusting her cheeks with a subtle highlight.

“The first one?”

“How many times have you hung out?”

“Just the once.”

“Are you planning another date?”

“It wasn’t a date-”

“Do you want us to help wingman you?”

“I really don’t-”

“Hey.” The rapid-fire of questions cease when the gang of us look up to see Owen himself standing in the doorway.

“Speak of the devil,” Tori snickers as the rest of the girls slowly disperse and smugly resume doing their makeup. Owen makes a face in reaction to her comment but chooses not to pry.

“Could I borrow some hairspray? This one piece of hair won’t stay.” Despite each of the girls having a full can of hairspray on hand, nobody makes a move to give him the product, indicating that I should be the one to help him out. Rolling my eyes at the look Ella is giving me through the mirror, I stand from my chair and hand Owen the can of hairspray. He then looks straight ahead and moves to use the product but I stop him before he can.

“What’s your plan?”

“What?”

“Are you just gonna spray the piece?”

“...yeah?”

“That’s not gonna work since the rest of your hair already has product in it. Can I help you?” Owen nods amiably and takes a seat after I gesture for him to sit in my chair. I then realize my mistake as I need the comb on the grey countertop, and have to consequently reach past Owen in a way that wouldn’t be so compromising had I not worn such a low-cut top. Thankfully it’s over as fast as it began, and walking to the sink in the corner of the dressing room, I run the cool water over the bristles. It isn’t until I turn off the tap that I notice how eerily quiet the room had gotten. None of the girls are talking, attentively studying my every move as I cross back to Owen.

“Is this Chicago?”

“Uh, yeah, We’re listening to my musical theatre playlist though, not the whole soundtrack,” I respond in spite of the nervous laugh that falls from my lips. The slight slouch in Owen’s posture doesn’t help me to see what I’m doing clearly enough. Using my index finger and an upturned palm, I tilt his chin up to get a better look at his hair, willfully ignoring the fact that he’s staring at me right now.

Still, silence fills the room as I take the wet comb through the front section of his hair where the stubborn strand won’t stay put. Once the water binds the pieces together, I grab my can of hairspray and struggle to uncap it. The outside is slick from god knows what, but thankfully Owen doesn’t let me struggle anymore and holds up his hands to wordlessly offer his help. I hand him the can, and he pops the top off after barely struggling. Handing the can back to me, he holds onto the lid, and the entire exchange remains completely silent.

I have to work quickly in my next step, but it’s not enough to distract from the fact that everyone in the room is watching me intently. Holding the aerosol can away from the crowd of people, I put some of the product on the comb and quickly work it into Owen’s hair while it’s still wet. Once the comb has formed his hair to my liking, I stop brushing it through in fear of the now dry hairspray ruining the shape. Then, I use my left hand to shield Owen’s eyes from getting any product in them before spraying the offending area to seal in my hard work.

The sound of a cell door sliding closed signifies the end of the song, and I wait for a second, eagerly anticipating the next song to play. Upon hearing the staccato piano notes of “Bad Idea” from Waitress, a smile appears on my face.

“I love this song.” Lunging back on my right leg, I create a little distance between us to make sure I didn’t completely butcher the rest of his hair, singing as I do.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you.”

“I know, I totally agree.” Pleasantly surprised by his joining in, my smile grows bigger.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you.”

“I’ve never known anything so true-”

“It’s a terrible idea, me and you.” The effortlessness that the two of us find in harmonizing is a genuine shock and an absolute thrill all at once. Once Owen sees how excited I am by his joining in me, it’s like a switch had been flipped; the two of us immediately slip into Actor Mode and begin to sing the song as if we were performing it on a Broadway stage.

“You have a wife.” I take a small step back out of the character’s hesitation.

“You have a husband.” Owen mirrors my action.

“You’re my doctor-” I cross my arms across my chest, but release my right hand to gesture to Owen standing in front of me.

“You’ve got a baby coming-” He uses both hands to gesture back to me in my ‘pregnant’ state.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you,” the two of us turn slightly away from facing one another in false bashfulness. When the music picks up, the two of us avidly step toward one another to come together. In perfect synchronization, I grab Owen’s forearms and his hands face upwards to hold onto my elbows.

“Let’s just keep kissing ‘til we come to.”

“Heart, stop racing, let’s face it-” Owen pivots his step out to the side to face forward, extending his right arm which cues me to turn into him and take his other hand to spin out.

“Making mistakes like this will make worse what is already pretty bad.” Then he extends his right arm forward, and I turn into him once again.

“Mind, stop running. It’s time we just let this thing go.” Instead of spinning out again, I stop in front of him where he wraps both of his arms around me.

“It was a pretty good bad idea,” in our harmony I cast my gaze upward to see Owen staring right back down at me, and I feel like I’m seeing stars, “Wasn’t it though?”

The two of us continue dancing and singing with one another as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s only the two of us, here and now. The other girls in the room don’t miss the way I seem to smile like never before, and I sure as hell don’t miss the way my stomach fills with butterflies. When he holds me so close and dear for each intimate moment of the song, I’m seeing stars. A bold happiness consumes me, the same happiness I felt when Owen and I laughed over lunch in that small pizzeria.

The final harmony draws the song to a close and when it finishes, the two of us fall into a breathless kind of laughter.

“I didn’t take a big enough breath for that last part.”

“Me neither.”

“Your hair stayed intact.”

“I must have a pretty good stylist.”

After recovering from our laughter the two of us wind up in a palpable stupor as we stare into one another’s eyes. A few blinks and my trance is broken, I become aware of our surroundings.

“I should get dressed soon, and you definitely need to get dressed.” Owen nods still somewhat breathless.

“Yeah. See you later for pulse?”

“Save me a spot,” I joke as he backs out of the threshold of our dressing room. Leaning against the doorframe I watch him disappear into his assigned dressing room with a small smile still lingering on my features.

“Just getting to know each other my ass!”

“What the heck was that?”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to wingman you?”

“Do you even need a wingman after something like that?”

Turning on my heel, I face the bunch of insatiable dancers and shake my head in disbelief.

“We were just acting, you guys.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“Maybe you were acting, but he sure as hell wasn’t. Did you see the way he was looking at you? He is totally in love with you.” Ella shakes me by my shoulders.

“He’s just a really good performer is all.”

“When is your next date?” she completely ignores me.

“Okay-”

“Oh, and I want to be the maid of honor at your wedding-”

“It was just a song, Ella.”

“-Oh my god you guys are gonna have the cutest kids! I mean, your hair with his eyes and cheekbones? Ahh! The cutest.”

***

A/n: the way that being on tour isn’t the most unrealistic part of this fic, but instead Owen actually knowing the lyrics is? Work diva.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayenneferburnham @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner

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fleursdemeduse · 3 years

Text

Remembrance AU: Constant Dying

This is not going in the direction that was originally planned, but I'm not sure I'm too upset by it. I'm glad to finally post a part that goes a bit further into Techno's feelings about you this time, though. I'm also starting to work on an angsty Simpbur fic alongside this one, so keep an eye out for that.

Warnings: Mention of death ; Near-death

Words: 3.6k

Your legs throbbed as you trudged through the multiple paths to where you and Techno had been mining. Your neck wasn’t fairing much better. There was always residual pain after a death, especially when you were killed by your own stupidity and not mobs or someone else. You were more than happy to take hits for your friend, often shielding his body with your much smaller one to protect him, but natural deaths were pointless to you. Not to mention that dying this many times in such a short period made an ache develop on the right side of your brain and you knew you wouldn’t be able to be rid of it for hours. You finished descending carved stairs to where you believed you had been and let out a sigh at the effort. Your chest filled with a dull ache at the action. A firework to the chest was certainly a quick way to die. It was far from the most painful as long as it got the job done in one or two shots and the ache would only last another hour or two if you would stop dying.

You thought back on how the events from earlier in the day had transpired. The entire thing had been a shit show and you loathed the next time you’d speak to Wilbur, knowing you were likely going to just yell at him. You weren’t in a great mood because of his little stunt. At least you knew why Techno had killed you and several others on the server. There was no reason for him to sit back and watch Tubbo be executed by your dearest friend. You could only hope that the boys new scars weren’t too bad. He’d have to display them for the rest of this lifetime, after all. Maybe he’d think they were cool like Tommy did.

You slowly unclenched your jaw and relaxed your shoulders, smiling a little at the thought of blond that you spent the other half of your days doting on. He was like the little brother you had always imagined wanting. Mumza had filled your prayers in some fashion, you supposed. A small chuckle spilled from your lips, deciding you’d make Technoblade pay you back somehow for your deaths today. You were up to three now.

A smile curled your lips as you thought of the possibilities. Maybe you’d steal his crown for a little bit. Or his cloak. You giggled to yourself as you crossed the lava pit that you were going to use later for obsidian. Mining in caves this deep was difficult enough without mobs so the lava was a good way to make sure none spawned nearby. Perhaps you could get away with all of the above with the addition of forcing him to make you a cup of tea. That would certainly be fair, wouldn’t it? You were sure if you convinced chat, you’d be able to make him do it.

The ore had been mostly cleared out, all that remained were long tunnels deep underground spanning for what felt like forever. It took you a good chunk of time, but finally you approached him from behind. He had continued mining, cobblestone covering the hole that you had fallen down and ultimately died upon impact in. “You grabbed my stuff, right?”

He pointed to the chest that had been set up, not stopping his assault on a piece of diorite. You flipped open the lid, pulling out several stone pickaxes he had managed to pick up. You didn’t suppose he had kept most of the stone, leaving it in the cave, but the ores, redstone, and lapis you had gathered sat untouched in the chest. “I don’t understand why you continue to use those. They’re flimsy.”

You shrugged before joining his side again, mining away the soft rock. “Because I can keep a large stock of them and don’t have to waste the durability of my diamond one.” You stopped paying attention to the coal you mined at above you as you looked towards him. “Besides, they’re expendable and I don’t have to worry about retrieving them every time I-”

Gravel began to fall on and around you in heavy chunks, obscuring your vision. You were startled for a moment at the sudden assault and you cursed your horrible luck. Of course the moment you were back and trying to resume your task, you’d almost die again. You recovered quickly, feeling the pressure around you as you were crushed and tried to dig your way out of the pile, but more seemed to just fall and replace the gravel you had just removed. It was suffocating. Rocks grated against your skin and you cringed at the sound of them rubbing against each other. You tried to claw your way through, fingers getting scraped as small pebbles cut the flesh. You were running out of air. You hated dying like this.

A hand grasped your bicep and you grunted as you were yanked out of the rubble. Rocks and flint shifted around you as it gave way and filled in the spot where you had just been. A broad chest cushioned you as you stumbled forward. You sucked in air as you rested your forehead against him. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone screw something up that fast before."

Your laugh was more of a wheeze as you smacked your hand against him, next to where your head rested. You didn’t move, however. Techno chuckled as he pat your back. He’d let you have your moment to calm yourself back down. He wasn’t particularly scared of you dying again, but he knew it had to have sucked. You had been taking the brunt of damage meant for him since, well, every time the two of you spent time together, and he didn’t understand why you were so eager to do it. On top of your clumsiness that already resulted in countless other deaths he didn’t know about, you died for him often when it would have probably only resulted in a minor wound for him. You were so reckless. But that smile you gave him every time somehow dissipated his annoyance more than it should have. It was familiar somehow. The voices loved it more than they should have. They loved you more than they should have.

You didn’t care who he was, how he was, what he did, if he could do something for you. You cared about him. Whenever he was giving too much to the rebellion, whenever he was hyper fixated on tasks and was trapped in his own brain with only chat as company, you were always there. They didn’t mind receding to the back of his head while you two talked, adding in small quips here and there. The loud roar they normally were was typically a small rumble when you were talking. It put him on edge with how much they liked you, but he couldn’t blame them. You provided conversation more often than not. You offered simpler solutions to long problems in his head he’d been breaking apart over and over until it had spiraled into a bigger one than it had started out at. But besides that, you also forced him to sleep, to remember to drink water, to take time for himself. To care about himself the way you did. He didn’t know how to repay you for the unending kindness you showed him. Especially when all you asked for was his friendship in return.

He felt you sigh against him and he moved his arm to free you. You were looking up at him, though, not stepping away.

"Are you alright?" His lips twitched. Shouldn’t he be asking you that?

"Yeah, why?"

"You look mad." A snort escaped him. You couldn’t even see his expression past the mask.

"That's just my face.” You didn’t look convinced. He ran his fingers through your hair, knocking some debris loose. It fell to the floor at your feet. He ignored the way you leaned into his touch. “I’m alright, [y/n].”

You smiled at him. You smiled that cursed smile. It made him feel worthy of the title god; so full of reverence and kindness. You had to have been blessed by Kristin herself. How could you still look upon him like that after what had happened at the festival? How could you show such adoration for a-

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” He turned his head away. He didn’t feel like he deserved to be the recipient of that smile made from sheer adoration. Your eyebrows furrowed and your smile wavered.

“Looking at you like what?”

“Like how Wilbur looks at you.” Your laugh rang through the tunnels. It echoed off the walls and he couldn’t help the swell of something in his chest. For a moment, you reminded him of Phil.

“Why is it a bad thing if I look at you like he does to me? He’s a really dear friend.” Oh dear.

“Don’t tell him that.” The idea of you only seeing him as a friend would break his heart floated unspoken in the air. You didn’t seem to notice it.

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.” Techno stepped back from you when it was obvious you weren’t going to do it yourself. He watched you deflate slightly and felt like he had done something wrong.

“It’s not like he wants to talk to me now anyways.” You picked up your pickaxe again, moving to work on the pile of gravel. He offered you his shovel and you took it. “He hasn’t said a word to me since the festival earlier.”

“I’m honestly surprised you’re still talkin’ to either of us after that debacle.” You paused your digging to look at him curiously. “After me bein’ peer pressured into killin’ Tubbo and everyone else. Killin’ you. His plan to do nothin’ ‘bout it. It’s surprisin’ that you aren’t givin’ us both the silent treatment.”

You scoffed, going back to the gravel in front of you. “That wasn’t his plan.”

Techno stilled, his eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

“Wilbur wasn’t planning on just doing nothing. He has TNT planted all around Manburg.” You hesitated, the grip on his shovel tightening in your trembling hands as you continued digging. “I don’t know why he didn’t set it off.”

There was no sound next to you or behind you. Stopping your work, you looked at him, only to see him looking towards where the mouth of the cave was. “We should be gettin’ back.”

A soft sigh left your mouth. “Go on ahead, I’m right behind you.”

You didn’t want to face the fallout.

You returned to Pogtopia late that night. Mining alone had been a good way to soothe your nerves after the events that had happened earlier. Whilst you had wished Techno had been there longer, you understood wanting to regroup. Today had been stressful for all of you.

You walked down the crude steps that had been made after putting the excess resources into the communal chest at the top. There was soft murmuring and the distant sound of Wilbur’s cackle put you a little on edge, but you soldiered on. It’s okay. Tubbo hopefully would have respawned by now. Things would go on. You froze at the top of the walkway down to the primary meeting area.

Techno was wrapping his knuckles with some extra gauze you recognized to be from your chest. Tommy was sitting a little away from him, his back to the wall and his knees to his chest. There was a distant look in his eyes as he stared at the ground in front of him. You could see a sliver of one of your plasters on his face, the bluish purple fabric and white dots a dark galaxy against his pale cheek. Your feet were moving before your brain as you ran to the teenage boy and knelt before him. You should have come back sooner. You reached out to hold him before hesitating, choosing instead to extend your hand to examine the flesh around the bandage. “You look horrible, Tommy. What happened? I thought you were safe after what happened at the festival.”

Techno grunted from the sidelines. “We resolved our issues.”

The boy before you huffed, still looking at the ground, but he leaned into your touch. “Resolved is a strong word, but we’re okay. For now.” He looked up at you and you pursed your lips together. He relaxed at the worry in your eyes. He was safe with you. “Where were you?”

“I was mining. I needed to blow off steam after all of that.” The blond just nodded, pressing his face further into your touch. You moved closer to brush some of the golden locks away from his face with your free hand. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Techno was suddenly beside you both, towering over the two of you. “It stays in the pit.”

You sent him an inquisitive look. “The pit?”

He only nodded and your frown deepened. Anger started to fester in you. Did he do this? To a child? “We are definitely discussing this later, Technoblade.” You watched his shoulders tense for a moment. You didn’t know if it was because of your tone or the use of his full name, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. You’d take care of it later. You two always talked things through, and now would not be any different, but you had to worry about Tommy. “You can’t just hurt people and say things are better now.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but you were already helping the blond up to shuffle him to your bed. The child kept trying to wave you off, but you persisted. Despite your ire against him, something shifted in his chest at watching how gentle you were with Tommy. His bond with you was truly something to behold.

Why aren’t they paying attention to us like earlier?

They’re so sweet to him.

Tommy's lucky we didn’t accidentally kill him.

I wonder how they’re so close.

I don’t want to talk to them later.

Why are they mad at us?

So they’re not upset about the festival, but they’re upset about a fight with Tommy? That makes no sense.

Follow them.

This is stupid.

Do they like him more?

Techno sat back in his spot against the ravine wall. He saw traces of a fireplace and used the heel of his boot to push around the sooty remains. Most of the questions chat had were valid, but he didn’t want to pursue you. He didn’t want to have that conversation later, either. He just wanted to move on. But he knew you wouldn’t. Something about how resentment ruins friendships and miscommunication was the biggest cause. He could never resent you. Sometimes he resented the gods, but never you.

He wanted to know what kind of entertainment DreamXD and Kristin got out of watching them over and over and over again. Did they have nothing better to do than continuously create and orchestrate each new lifetime? Each new world with different rules and a different storyline? Or recreate other worlds just to change the plot? There had been so many, but this was the first where they all remembered. This was the first where he had met you.

Techno closed his eyes. None of his lives had been bad. Well, particularly bad. Wilbur always seemed to get off worse than he did. Tommy sometimes worse than them both.

He remembered a life of gilded castles, one of many. He trained Wilbur and Tommy in combat. He studied politics and was a general. He watched the two of them grow up in Phil’s absence. There were handmaidens that were too bold in their words, butlers that were too polite, and inside jokes between him and the guards. There were dinners made of things that he only wished they could recreate here. He remembered that despite any squabbling, they were still very much a family. He knows Tommy remembers that one all too clearly. He doesn’t talk about it often, but Techno knows the look in his eyes whenever Phil is mentioned. He also speaks sometimes about the servant that once tended to his mother but he nor Wilbur could ever recall one. Too many faceless employees. Too many nameless soldiers.

He remembered a different life where Hanahaki Disease roamed rampant. The flowers infected most of the people he knew. Sometimes they got better, sometimes they didn’t. Phil would never catch it. The blurry memory of his friend saying so flashed briefly in his head. That fact didn't surprise him in the least. Phil was a catch. But he had never had to deal with the deadly buds either. He couldn't remember why. His head throbbed gently as he tried to wade through the fog. Wilbur had suffered from it, though. It was devastating when he passed. The flowers choked him, stuffing his airways with petals. Who had he loved so much it killed him? Didn't he love anyone like that? Didn’t he find someone so beautiful that dying was more preferable than a life without them? Maybe he did. There were small flashes in his head of the gentle squeeze of a hand and a smile that could snuff out the sun. Why couldn't he seem to remember their face?

There was another life. A life where markings appeared on his skin. Little scratches, cuts and scrapes that weren't his, doodles, words that he would have never written himself. He remembered sitting through a lecture once, smiling at the little stars that speckled his arm and slowly appeared like the night sky in the twilight of the setting sun. Wilbur had shown off the same markings, and it was brutal irony that the two of them shared this connection with a third. They would play games frequently. Mostly twenty questions or tic tac toe, but locations and true names were always burning scribbles on their flesh when attempted. They tried many tactics to find out more before Wilbur had told them both off. He wonders if they had found their third in that life.

There had always been gaps in his memory, especially when it came to his other lives. Lulls where the mundane had become just a bit too mundane, moments where he just shut his brain off and went by instinct. Things were easier when you didn’t have past lives to think about. When he didn’t have to consider if he had already learnt a lesson and was doomed to repeat it. When you weren’t around to give him glares and words of encouragement and cause disruption in his life. Were Tommy and Wilbur’s lives more difficult with you here too? With someone to tell them what to do and to patch up their wounds and give fleeting touches that were so soft it was like touching a petal? He hopes not.

A sound of distress comes from the direction you and Tommy had gone in and he turns to look. You’re standing there, facing away from him, reaching out towards empty space to someone who wasn’t there. You must’ve been the one to make the noise.

You turn around and his frown deepens. You look tired and more than a little frustrated. It was amazing how much of a difference you stood now compared to the person that clung to him throughout the nether when he had first met you. Your presence was easy. You didn’t ramble like he would disappear anymore. You didn’t look to him for validation with every move. You didn’t act out of the desperation isolation had instilled in you. You had settled like the missing puzzle piece they didn’t even know was missing. Did you ever visit the library that you had once called your first home?

He watches you finally approach him, sitting and leaning against his side as if you weren’t upset. You move to intertwine your arm with his, hand slipping into his own. He didn’t stop you. “Wilbur, he’s-”

“Crazy? Yeah, I know. He wants me to set off withers.” You sat straight up. Shock painted your face a hue that didn’t suit you. Or perhaps it was fear. He didn’t like it.

“Withers?” He nods. Your head spins back to the direction of your bedroom. “Does Tommy know?”

“Tommy knows. I went along with it.” Techno feels you scoot away, releasing your hold on him and he already misses the feeling. “It’s not like we’re tryin’ to salvage the place, [y/n].”

“I don’t want more innocent people to lose another life, Tech.” You look at him once more. “Do Tommy and Wilbur know that you’re hoping to leave nothing behind? Because they both talk about reestablishing L’manburg when given the chance.”

“I keep tellin’ them the truth, but it seems like they’re not gonna listen.” He watches your face fall into a look that he hopes meant acceptance. Your eyes moved to the ground between you both and you just nodded. You didn’t know where you would sit in the aftermath of this all.

Techno felt your hand slip back into his as you take your place back against his side. Pink hair was soft against your cheek as you rested it against his shoulder.

“One step at a time. Let’s worry about getting rid of Schlatt first, okay?” He just nods back, resting his head on top of yours. You squeeze his hand in response. You felt safe again, especially with him next to you “Now-

Tell me about this pit.”

#RemembranceAU #dsmp au #dream smp au #dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x reader #tw: death

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sooibian · 3 years

Text

So Let's Runaway - Costa Brava

Prologue >> Costa Brava >> Seville >> Cuéllar

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Fem!Reader ft. bff!Chanyeol

Genre/Themes: Fluff, angst, humour, travel AU, road trip through Spain, travel buddies Chansoo

Warnings: Grief, loss, heartache, toxic relationships, mildly explicit language

Description: A bachelors trip turns into a soul-searching journey when an unlikely group of three travels through the scenic landscapes of Spain. Their experiences present them with opportunities to mend bridges, face their fears and fall back in love with the true essence of life.

Word Count: ~ 5.3k

A/N: this story is a part of @supermwritersnet ‘Around the world in 31 days’ event. event masterlist.

Tag list: @sooadorable @rosetvler @changshapatrol @his-mochi-cheeks @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt @j-pping @kysoobydoobydoo @exoxobsession @camillapad @reekyungsoo let me know if you’d like to be (un)tagged.

@smolgirlbigthoughts thank you so much for the description!!! ;~~~~~;

After having stayed the night (or whatever was left of it after a red-eye flight) in an Airbnb in Barcelona, the three of you hired a Lyft to Europcar to pick up the SUV that Chanyeol had pre-booked for the Costa Brava - Seville - Cuéllar itinerary. What you’d gathered from your several conversations with Chanyeol after that serendipitous coffee date was that each of the three friends had handpicked an adventure sport to try out in these places.

Chanyeol had chosen scuba diving in the rugged coast of Costa Brava with its spectacular cliffs and countless coves. Kyungsoo had appositely picked out an adventure sport involving throwing oneself out of an airplane thousands of feet above ground a.k.a. skydiving in Seville, the capital of Andalusia, resting, wise and old, upon the Guadalquivir river. And Yixing, bless his heart, had wanted to take part in a bull run in Cuéllar that takes place on the last Sunday of August each year.

Twirling the car key on his finger, Chanyeol, dressed in baggy black shorts, a loose fitting purple tee, super dark oversized shades and a snapback cap worn backwards, strongly resembled that ‘smiling face with the sunglasses’ emoji as he walked out of the booking office with Kyungsoo following closely behind. All set to catch a few winks in the rear seat comfort of the SUV, you pulled down the brim of your sunhat but suddenly, a blur of turquoise swooped past you, capturing your attention. Your drowsy eyes wrestled the summer sun to land upon a gorgeous turquoise Buick convertible swerving around the parking area before coming to a fashionable halt. A portly, bespectacled man stepped out of the vehicle and deposited its key with the booking office.

This was it.

This was the car ideal for a road trip, not some mafia boss’ kidnapping vehicle.

The essence of time dawned upon you so you trotted to where the Buick was parked and went down on your knees, hands folded in an implicit plea. The two men, startled at first, were quick to realize what was up.

Kyungsoo fixed you with a judgemental gaze that wasn’t any different from a mother’s fed-up of her child’s tantrums while Chanyeol broke into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Shoulders hunched under the weight of his tan leather backpack, Kyungsoo crammed his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants and sighed, “The SUV’s more practical.”

With a twinkle in your eye, you exclaimed, “Screw practical! Just look at it! It’s a convertible and we’re on a road trip!”

Grinning from ear to ear, Chanyeol advanced towards you gingerly. “Shifu, my love-”

Jutting out your lower lip, you crossed your arms over your chest and whined, “Don’t call me that after you’ve ditched me for Miss Perfect Hair!” causing Kyungsoo to roll his eyes which distracted you from Chanyeol’s stealth attack.

All of a sudden, the beanpole leapt at you, maneuvered you like he would a balloon sculpture, tucked his arms under your knees, picked you up and shoved you in the backseat of the dreary black vehicle with sun shades on windows darker than Kyungsoo’s soul. With Chanyeol’s finger pressing down on the ridge between your eyebrows, you laid down on your back, sulking, “Some road trip this is. Can I atleast drive?”

Before slamming the car door shut, he teased, “Take a nap.”

And...you tried.

Forty five minutes into the drive, you tried so hard to make up for the red-eye flight but Kyungsoo’s phone Just. Wouldn’t. Stop. Ringing. To make matters worse, he sounded like a broken record parroting the words ‘margin call’, ‘shorting’, ‘S’, ‘B’, ‘stop loss’ over and over again. The same damn thing, every single time.

“Enough Kyungsoo! We’re on a vacation, dude,” Chanyeol chided, the almost indiscernible crack in his voice indicative of his annoyance.

Leaning back into his seat, Kyungsoo bragged, “The last thirty seconds earned me enough commission to be able to buy at least five bags of the kind I bought Aera yesterday.”

“Now, why would you buy Aera a bag?” Chanyeol asked, a hint of suspicion evident in his tone. The sounds of their voices had been mercilessly thwarting your attempts at a peaceful slumber but, this was different. The lack of response from Kyungsoo seemed to have piqued your interest. Your eyes fluttered open to a one eighty shift in Chanyeol’s mood. Brows knit together, his fingers impatiently drummed on the steering wheel as you both waited for Kyungsoo’s answer with a bated breath. But in his stead, it was his stupid phone that broke the silence.

Wide eyes fixated on the screen, Kyungsoo suddenly cried out, “Stop the car!”.

“What?!”

“Stop the car, Chanyeol!”

Letting out an exasperated groan, Chanyeol rashly veered the car to the right before hitting the brakes, causing you to nearly roll off your seat. Kyungsoo darted out of the vehicle and the next thing you knew, he stood facing the hood of the vehicle, his laptop perched atop the bonnet and his life support cellphone clutched in one hand.

Bowing to the screen, he greeted, “Moshi Moshi!”

“Is he taking a work call right now?” you mused.

Chanyeol snorted, “That’s Doh Kyungsoo for you.”

Chuckling softly, you squished your face against the back of Chanyeol’s seat and groused, “Well, along with loony, your friend seems to be fluent in Japanese.”

“Yah! Cut him some slack. He’s had a rough couple of weeks,” explained Chanyeol, wrestling with a bag of chips in his hands.

“Yeollie -”

It was on the tip of your tongue.

You wanted to tell Chanyeol about your encounter with Kyungsoo on the rooftop but there was no way you could explain your own presence in the first place. To make matters worse, you were the worst liar you knew. So, you decided it was a story that best remained untold for your own sake, your mother’s and inadvertently, Kyungsoo’s.

“Yeah?”

“Can I have a chip?” you asked instead.

“All yours!”

“I’ll have just one, thanks.”

“You alright, Shifu?” Chanyeol slurred around a mouthful of chips, “Is there anything you need?”

“A nap would be nice,” you jested while nibbling at the edges of the deep fried snack.

“Aww, sleepyhead, we’ll be there in an hour.”

Humming in agreement, you reached for another chip and cooed, “Are you alright, Yeol? What’s with the whole ‘bag for Aera’ situation?”

Chanyeol’s head spun around to give you a warm, dimpled smile. “Don’t worry. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he had wolfed down an entire packet of chips in a matter of minutes along with a can of some neon and black fizzy drink. A distant memory of Chanyeol guzzling an entire bottle of water in three seconds for shits and giggles back in Uni stretched your lips in a wistful smile.

By then, Kyungsoo was done with his twenty minute long call against the quaint cerulean and stone backdrop of fishing villages by the coast. Who needs a virtual background when you’re surrounded by coves of deep blue sea and beaches of golden sand? As he reached for the car door, you whispered in Chanyeol’s ear, “One more call and I’m chucking his phone out the window.”

Grinning mischievously as he fastened his seatbelt, Chanyeol sang, “Oh, Shifu, I’ve missed youuuu!”

The moment Kyungsoo stepped inside, a tangible gloom proliferated in the enclosed space. Chanyeol started the car and you quietly curled up in the backseat. Kyungsoo’s head spun around, round eyes blazing with conviction. Pointing towards the trunk, he said, “Do you see that cloth bag on top of Chanyeol’s trolley?”

“This one?” you asked, hoisting yourself up on one elbow, your arm carelessly flapping all over the luggage before landing on said cloth bag with a dull thump.

“Hand it over, please,” winced Kyungsoo, “Be gentle, it’s a gift.”

Passing him his precious ‘gift’, you let out an annoyed huff and laid down again, facing the backrest. But curiosity got the better of you. You immediately turned back around to see what this ‘gift’ looked like.

Kyungsoo loosened the strings of the canvas tote to reveal a black Birkin Cargo. Soft and lightweight, it was supposed to be Hermès first off-road bag. Your droopy eyes flew open in awe of its high-brow craftsmanship and it was certainly a thoughtful gift for a bride-to-be. If this gift was meant for you, you were sure to forgive any and all of his crimes but the bag didn’t seem to have the same kind of effect on Chanyeol.

The air was still thick with tension.

Gaze fixed on Chanyeol’s profile, Kyungsoo murmured, “I didn’t want to do this now.”

Eyes on the road, “Spill,” grunted Chanyeol, as if expecting the obvious.

“This is an ‘I’m sorry’ gift for Aera,” started Kyungsoo before lowering his voice to a whisper, “I picked it up from duty free last night...it’s fifteen times Yixing’s annual agricultural income.”

Chanyeol clicked his tongue in disapproval at Kyungsoo’s snide remark.

“What do you want to apologize to her for?” he then asked with a deep sigh.

“I- I can’t make it to the wedding,” said Kyungsoo, faltering in his otherwise steadfast speech.

“Why?” quizzed Chanyeol in a terrifyingly cool tone while anger started to rise within you. Why he allowed this midget to walk all over him was beyond you. Didn’t he have better friends?

“I pushed back an important appointment for this trip. It was either Spain or the wedding. And since you insisted on Spain...”

Furious, Chanyeol struck the steering wheel with his palm. With the rattle of the metal strap of his Rolex reverberating in the car, he bellowed, “The actual fuck, Doh Kyungsoo?!”

“What?! I said I’m sorry!”

“No, you didn’t! Besides, ‘sorry’ doesn’t fix anything! You’re supposed to be my best man - are- are you listening to yourself right now?!”

Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, Kyungsoo patiently waited for his friend to simmer down. After a pregnant pause, Chanyeol resumed reasoning with him, his tone evidently milder this time, “Okay, okay, talk to me. Does this appointment have to be on the exact same day as the ceremony?”

“No, it doesn’t and...it isn’t,” Kyungsoo explained before hurriedly requesting, “Can we do this later?”

Chanyeol took a sharp right turn along the tapering road and brought the car to a screeching halt. Brows furrowed, lips quirked in an angry smirk, he looked Kyungsoo straight in the eyes and you felt as if the air conditioner had suddenly started meting out the chilliest of blows.

“No, I want to talk about it right now! So, tell me. What’s more important than your best friend’s wedding?”

Kyungsoo took off his glasses, threw his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Chanyeol, please -”

“No, I need to know!”

“Then remember it was you who wanted to have this conversation on the first day of our trip,” he stated curtly.

“Enough with the drama Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol’s roar rang through the car.

“FINE!” Kyungsoo grumbled, “I got a job offer from the London office and...I accepted. I leave a week after we’re back in Seoul….since it’s a new position I cannot fly back for the wedding. And I would’ve...I- I was going to fly back for the wedding had it not been for this trip.”

“So you decided to leave. Forever. Just like that. Without even talking to me about it first.” Chanyeol thought out loud, his tone tellingly casual.

Looking out the window, Kyungsoo whispered audibly, “There’s nothing left for me in Seoul.”

Without another word, Chanyeol started the car.

Putting his glasses back on, Kyungsoo threw his hands up and argued, “So you’re not going to say anything?!”

Chanyeol cranked up the volume on the car’s stereo in response, leaving Kyungsoo tongue-tied.

***

Ten minutes into the drive, Kyungsoo’s phone blew up for, conservatively, the fifteenth time. But before he could even swipe to answer, Chanyeol lowered the car window, plucked his phone out of his hand and chucked it into the shrubbery by the roadside and continued to drive at an accelerated speed.

Kyungsoo’s mouth fell open but no words came out and unbeknownst to you, you were mirroring the dazed look on his face.

Chanyeol stuck his thumb out to where you were seated and justified indifferently, “It was her idea.”

It wasn’t a house. It was a warzone.

The spacious three bedroom apartment had invisible borders drawn out and nobody dared to encroach upon the other’s territory.

After arriving in Costa Brava, the three of you settled in and freshened up before heading out for a scheduled theoretical lesson on scuba diving conducted by your PADI certified instructor. The lesson had ended sometime around sunset and through the entire thing, you acted like complete strangers, making it more awkward than necessary for the twenty something instructor.

After the lesson, Kyungsoo offered to drive the trio to a boutique hotel, Hostal Sa Rascassa’s restaurant, which was supposed to be located on the edges of a tranquil, secluded cove and served traditional sea-food centric dishes like -

“- grilled sardines, cod fishcakes and octopus stewed with onion and pepper,” Kyungsoo counted on his fingers, making your stomach growl and your mouth water.

Chanyeol brushed him aside with a bitter, “I’m not hungry.”

Turning to you, Kyungsoo asked politely, “Wanna come?”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Chanyeol shooting you a death glare so you decided to wriggle out of the situation by citing tiredness.

Kyungsoo lifted his shoulders in a dismissive shrug and took off in a taxi, leaving the car to the two of you.

“Where do you wanna eat?” Chanyeol asked as you got into the passenger’s seat.

Slack jawed, you chastised a giggling Chanyeol, “Yeollie, you’re absolutely horrible!”

It had been months.

Months since Natasha had walked out of their shared apartment.

And ever since then, every night, the moment Kyungsoo’s head would hit the pillow, a sense of hopelessness would erupt right in the middle of his chest. Spreading its wings far and wide, this despair would engulf him entirely and render him sleepless.

Nothing he tried helped his disposition so he’d started working on accepting this feeling as an inextricable part of his being. Something he’d have to learn to live with for the rest of his life.

Overcome by exhaustion, Kyungsoo drifted off only to be jolted awake by a jarring memory.

Hands balled into fists, Natasha yelled, ‘HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?’

‘This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Natasha! This deal could help us!’ Kyungsoo thundered in the face of her dogged determination to not let this slide.

‘Can’t you see that I don’t care?’ She met his bloodshot eyes with tears welling in hers.

Brows knit together, Kyungsoo ruminated on his thoughts before firing back, ‘Are you saying that you don’t care about my life?’

Exasperated, Natasha ran a hand through her hair to ground herself and argued, ‘Stop it, Kyungsoo! Don’t confuse your work with your life! Your work isn’t your life. It’s just a part of it. WHAT ABOUT US?’

‘Us?’ Kyungsoo deliberated, ‘I bought this apartment so that we could live together.’

Natasha retracted with every step Kyungsoo took towards her, expression coloured in unpleasant shades of anger and disgust. Letting out a mirthless laugh, she taunted, ‘Oh, please! You bought this apartment to impress people with your upmarket address.’

Aghast, Kyungsoo sank into the couch, his mind flitting between despair and hope. Head in his hands, breathing jagged and raspy, he reasoned, ‘I can’t believe you’re saying this to me! I’m planning a future with you.’

‘The future is yet to come, Kyungsoo. WHAT ABOUT OUR PRESENT?’

‘STOP YELLING!’

‘THEN LISTEN TO ME!’

Hands on his knees, Kyungsoo’s gaze shot up to rest upon Natasha’s flushed face. ‘What do you want?’ He demanded in a terrifyingly low tone.

A silent tear slid down her cheek as she explained with a quiver in her voice, ‘I want your time, Kyungsoo. I want a relationship not a retirement plan.’

Helpless, Kyungsoo toyed with the words in his mind before blurting, ‘If the chairman of Nakamura Corporation wants to meet me then I have- to- go! If he likes the presentation, he’ll give us the entire account. Don’t you see how big this is for me?’

‘But what about us, Kyungsoo? What about our dinner plan?’

‘We can postpone it to next month, can’t we?!’

‘It’s my birthday, Soo. I can’t postpone my birthday. You’d promised me this dinner...no matter what! You cancelled the reservation without even asking me first.’

Cupping her face in his hands, he pressed his lips to hers and whispered, ‘Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...but I have to go.’

When you padded into the living room, sleep befuddled at 5 a.m., you caught Chanyeol and Kyungsoo locked in an embrace, both of their eyes squeezed shut, as if wordlessly conveying an incredible degree of warmth and affection towards each other.

All of it….in “bro code”.

You imagined the conversation in your head, in two deep, distinct male voices:

‘I’m sorry I threw your phone out the window, bro!’

‘It’s what I deserved, bro!’

Rubbing away the drowsiness from your eyes, you tiptoed back into your room so as to not disrupt this….whatever this was supposed to be.

***

Underneath the purple-pink skies, enveloped in the cool early morning breeze, Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, and you, dressed in spandex scuba suits, huddled together in solidarity on the boat’s bulwark.

The diving site that Chanyeol had picked was called ‘Boreas Wreck’. The Boreas was a high sea tugboat that served for the German Navy during World War II. It was deliberately sunk in 1989 for the purpose of creating an artificial reef and thus, a scuba diving attraction.

“Any non-swimmers?” the trainer asked and Kyungsoo’s hand shot up in the air.

Her full lips curled up in a dazzling smile. “You’re brave,” she remarked and you heard Kyungsoo swallow hard, inviting a snigger from Chanyeol.

Hands on hips, her perfect figure accentuated by the spandex, she instructed, “You will be diving deep into this sea now, do you remember the theoretical part I taught you on the shore?”

Chanyeol and you were confident (and loud) in your affirmation.

Kyungsoo, not so much.

With the bulky dive equipment on, the instructor created a circle with her thumb and forefinger, gesturing, “All okay?”

The three of you responded by following suit.

First dive, twelve metres depth.

You’d become the proverbial fish out of water except you were not the fish and you were under water and your whole world had been turned upside down….quite literally.

You spun around to find the instructor assisting Chanyeol with his breathing rhythm and Kyungsoo curled up like a shrimp, hugging his knees. Arm extended, he gave you a “thumbs up” which meant an entirely different thing under water from what it did on land.

Thumbs up, in diving lingo, spelled trouble. It meant that, for whatever reason, the diver wished to ascend. But, by then, you’d known Kyungsoo long enough to understand that there was no real cause for concern.

The look in his eyes told you that he was simply struggling to adapt.

You swam towards him, with your legs and not your arms, in order to maintain good buoyancy control. Clasping your hands together in a mitten grasp, you signalled him to hold onto you. Kyungsoo created a circle with his thumb and forefinger to signal “okay” before putting his hand on your forearm, the soft ripples caused by his gentle movements gleaming in the artificial light from your gear.

You then raised your other arm and flattened your hand, palm down, to “pat” the water in front of you as you would the head of a dog. Wearing a comforting eye smile, you essentially asked Kyungsoo to take it easy and relax. You then levelled your hand with his eyes, palm facing up before drawing a deep breath, wordlessly asking Kyungsoo to breathe slow, deep and long.

Another nod. Another “okay”.

He then pointed his index finger to his ear, the gesture indicating that he couldn’t clear his ears and had trouble equalizing. So you locked your eyes with his and took his elbows in your hands to pull him up to ascend slightly before quickly pushing him down again while wondering whether he’d paid attention to the theoretical lessons at all.

He squeezed his eyes shut before giving you another nod which meant that the equalization was a success.

Kyungsoo’s thumb and forefinger met in another “okay” but this time with an eye smile which you reciprocated with an “okay” before snapping your fingers into a teasing finger heart.

All traces of agreeableness instantly vanished from his visible features.

***

The deeper you went, your fluo green spectrum widened, whelming you with the underwater world’s tranquil beauty which neutralized the shooting pain in your ears and the violent thumping of your heart. Corals in the shape of giant mushrooms floated around you and sea urchins greeted you with their bright purple-brown spikes glowing under the ocean’s natural light. At your feet, a shy goby fish with its large head and tapered body tunneled its way into the sand upon sensing the arrival of strangers.

While you were immersed in this exquisite scenery, a wide eyed Kyungsoo grabbed your attention by waving at you, his hand holding a pink fin.

‘That fin looks familiar,’ you thought before realizing it was your fin that had released itself from your right foot. You almost choked from laughing with the regulator on and the mask attached to your face as Kyungsoo helped you stick it back on.

Having been privy to breathtaking videos and countless stories of the mysteries and magic of the underwater world, a first-hand experience felt surreal. You were quick to adapt to the environment and didn’t try to fight it or control it and your first breath under water had been an experience like no other.

The Boreas Wreck was home to a number of incredible marine species such as Mediterranean sponges and blue gorgonians, scorpionfish, sea urchins, starfish, goatfish, mullets, bream, lobsters, groupers, and barracuda. While you couldn’t pindown all the enticing, drop dead gorgeous palettes of reds, blues, and yellows that crossed paths with you, shoaling, schooling...or even solitary, it didn’t take away from the sheer awe you were overcome with at every second of your time several azure and viridian metres below the surface of land.

The instructor then guided the three of you inside the boat’s wreck, which was safe to enter since all hazardous items had been removed before Boreas was scuttled. With an excited Chanyeol in the lead per usual, you visited some of its confined rooms, and went further in to explore the kitchen, the engine room, the bridge and even the captain’s cabin. The dilapidated metal and wood body of the civil boat, covered almost entirely in sea fauna, was nothing short of a beautiful nightmare.

Traversing, you reached one corner of the boat basked in a blinding white light, enveloping you in a gentle embrace. Emotions so carefully locked away came flooding through the dam of your forced stoic indifference. Giving in, you stretched your arms out, allowing yourself to freefall into a distant memory.

Haphazardly flapping your arms and legs, you struggled to keep your head up but no matter how hard you tried, the pool water made its way into your mouth, nose, and eyes, even.

‘Appa!’ you managed loudly as you felt yourself drowning again.

Your Appa was the one who always came to your rescue.

No matter where you were, no matter how bad things got. He was always there. So when he just stood there, a smile on his face, watching you grapple with a force that mercilessly dragged you down while you kicked and punched and floundered to stay afloat...a mysterious emotion rose within you.

You felt betrayed by the man who was supposed to have your back.

Seething, ‘Appa!’ you bawled, but to no avail.

Until...magically...you didn’t need his help anymore.

After days of relentless torture, you’d finally found yourself moving forward, cutting through the water with synchronized movements of your arms and legs.

But the exhilaration hadn’t lasted long.

A couple of minutes in and you realized that that force was winning again but this time, you didn’t drown.

This time a familiar pair of hands grabbed you before you went under and threw you up in the air as your misty eyes took in the biggest smile on your father’s face with an equally big one gracing your bright features.

Circling his arms around your tiny torso, he nestled you into himself.

‘My champion!’ he whispered into your swim cap covered ear.

***

Back on the boat, with your diving gear off and fresh towels wrapped around your shoulders, you sank to your knees, completely wracked with sobs.

You felt a million emotions, all at once, the reigning one being embarrassment at this sudden outburst. With his arms around you and his chin resting on the top of your head, Chanyeol whispered, ‘It’s okay, it’s alright,’ to ground you while gently rocking you back and forth until you’d let it all out. Turning around, you buried your face into the crook of his neck as if to hide away from the inquisitive eyes of Kyungsoo and the instructor. Chanyeol held you closer, his hand stroking the back of your neck in silent support.

Even after a sumptuous lunch of salmon canapes, baked scallops, rice with spiny spider crab, mixed seafood finger foods complete with a chocolate semi sphere, Chanyeol was uncharacteristically quiet and Kyungsoo, uncharacteristically amiable.

“Feels a little morbid to be eating all this seafood after a dive,” you jested with a serious expression, nibbling on a piece of dark chocolate. And it was only then that the boys went back to being their true selves. Amused, Chanyeol guffawed, “Good to have you back!” while Kyungsoo choked on his sparkling white wine.

Shortly after, Chanyeol excused himself to make a call to Aera.

Kyungsoo ordered two coffees for the both of you and you noticed how he kicked about a conversation starter in his head as opened his mouth only to clamp it shut several times, before finally mustering, “I just want to say -”

“No,” you interrupted him in a mortified haste, “no, please don’t say anything I don’t wanna talk about it except, I’m really sorry for making it so awkward for you guys back there.”

“Oh, no,” he gave you a dismissive wave of hand, “it was just Chanyeol, me, and...erm...the pretty instructor who we’ll never see again. Chanyeol makes a complete ass out of himself every waking hour and as for me, please don’t worry about me. Especially not after you found me blind drunk on a rooftop in the dead of night. We all have our moments. I’m sorry,” he suddenly stopped short, expression solemn, “you said you didn’t wanna talk about it.”

You chuckled, teasing, “Pretty instructor, huh?”

This was the longest conversation you’d had with Kyungsoo so far and truth be told, you were caught off guard by... his smile. His resting face was a natural frown, mostly due to his poor eyesight. And in your experience, if he had his glasses on, it was Chanyeol who was the primary reason for his scowl, with you being a close second.

It took you a moment to take in that dazzling, heart shaped smile of his before you could speak again but it was Kyungsoo who lugged the conversation forward.

“I just wanted to thank you for what you did for me back there. I think I felt a little overwhelmed by the,” he pondered his thoughts before concluding, “the vastness of the ocean. Sorry, I’m no poet.”

“Don’t mention it,” you smiled, “How did you feel by the end of it?”

“Umm,” Kyungsoo ruminated on your question, “I felt like I was in the moment...like, reaching a stage of subtle awareness from surface awareness.”

“And you say you’re not a poet,” you quipped, “So, like, meditation?”

“Maybe. It felt as if I was letting go of...of all the emotional baggage -” he trailed off rather plaintively.

Voice laced with hesitance, you sang, “So….maybe…you’ll sleep better tonight?”

Clearly taken aback by your question, Kyungsoo exclaimed, “What?!”

“I’m sorry but, it’s very obvious that you haven’t been sleeping too well.”

Thick eyebrows scrunched together, he let out a confused ‘Oh!’

“Did Chanyeol -” he continued, only to be interrupted by a booming, cheerful voice, “Think of the angel and the angel appears!”

Kyungsoo looked up at a beaming Chanyeol and deadpanned, “That’s not how the saying goes. Anyway, what took you so long?”

Eyes holding a glint of humour, Chanyeol placed a neatly wrapped iPhone box in front of Kyungsoo and took the dramatics up a notch with a stage performer-esque curtsey thus inviting amused stares from the nearby tables in the courtyard style restaurant. Kyungsoo unwrapped the packaging with the eagerness of a five year old on Christmas Eve and to his disappointment, instead of the high end handphone, he opened the case to a hot pink flip phone.

Kyungsoo let out a low growl, “The fuck is this?”

Standing at a safe distance from his fuming friend, Chanyeol quipped, “A phone,” while making no effort to suppress his laughter.

“Thank you, Mr. State The Obvious, but I’m an adult male, not a Japanese schoolgirl!”

Tickled by his own little prank, Chanyeol threw you under the bus by triumphantly howling, “It was Shifu’s idea!” before darting out of the premises.

Dumbfounded, you exclaimed, “WHAT?! NO!” as Kyungsoo fixed you with a death glare.

‘When were you going to tell me about this?’

Maybe this was one of your endless nightmares.

Maybe this wasn’t happening at all.

Your mother deflected your question by putting things away. Dirty dishes in the washer, clothes in the dryer, leftovers in the fridge, while you followed her around like a lost puppy, a crumpled, time stained letter held delicately in your hand.

The throbbing in your head now bordering on numbness, bile rising up your throat, your legs threatening to give away, you reiterated your question, vociferously this time, surprised at your own power of will. A quality that forever eluded you. The inability to voice your needs, your opinions, masked under a not so thinly veiled sense of self deprecating humour was...you, in a nutshell. This sudden surge of fighting spirit consuming you whole felt alien but at the same time, very natural and, at the same time, it was taking a toll on every nerve, every muscle, every bone.

Every second felt like your last.

‘Would she be able to handle it all over again?’ crestfallen, you mused, ‘The grief. The sympathy. The cumulation of my life -- all these decades condensed into a tiny vessel of ever fading memories. The sands of time trickling through her wrinkled fingers.’

‘Eomma, please -’ you cried out, only for your plea to fall upon deaf ears.

It wasn’t until the next morning that she spoke to you again.

Bloodshot eyes framed by the weight of living, she handed you a warm cup of tea and let out a deep sigh.

‘He never wanted you. It was your Appa who accepted me...he accepted us… It’s been three days since your Appa -,’ wracked with sobs, it took her a while to compose herself to be able to speak again, ‘don’t dishonour his memory.’

‘Why should I believe a word you say? Why should I believe that- that my own father never wanted me?’

116 notes · View notes

angelicmark · 4 years

Text

eventual (m)

pairing: best friend!jeno x reader

genre: fluff, smut, angst? (not much, i wanted to give you guys a break lmao)

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, riding, pretty tame but lots of romance

wc: 7.7k

summary: falling in love with your best friend, lee jeno.

you can feel your head growing heavy, and you gulp down as much water as you can. spring started to blossom only just a few weeks ago, and you were already feeling the heat starting to take a toll on you. you huff out a breath of air, feeling bitter towards the weather that seemed to hate you. this catches the attention of the boy next to you.

“you okay?” he asks, but it was so brief you barely even heard it.

you shrug, “i mean, i guess. the heat is fucking with me.”

he laughs, the sound echoing into the spring air, “you’re so over dramatic, it’s not even that hot outside yet.”

you pout at him, “you’re so mean to me, jeno.”

he raises an eyebrow at you, challenging your statement. you grin from ear to ear, knowing damn well he treats you better than anyone you’ve ever met before. jeno was the ideal best friend. anyone would be lucky to have him, and you were lucky you got your paws on him before anyone else. you smile to yourself with victory, and he looks at you with confusion, as if asking why the hell you look like your ego is about to burst.

you point at him, “you’re mine, lee jeno.” you grin with the most confident smile you can muster. and he rolls his eyes.

“whatever,” but he’s smiling. and you can see the soft blush that graces his cheeks. you poke his cheek and he immediately swats you away with a look of disgust.

“you love me,” you lean your body against his, your arms linking with his own arm. you start to rub your face against his shoulder like some crazy affectionate cat and he snorts, trying to shove you away with a small squeak when you bite him; soft but causing alarm.

“what the hell?!” he looks at you with wide eyes and you laugh at the surprise.

“love me, jeno.”

and he does. you don’t know, but he does. and the way your eyes sparkle in the bright light of the sun, makes his heart start to pick up pace again. and he feels his body start to sweat as he blushes again. but he stops struggling against your hold on him, and let’s you lean into him like you need him. and he wants to desperately believe you did need him. so he succumbed himself into your hold, and even brought you closer to him by wrapping the arm you were squeezing around your body. and you both fall into a sweet silence, and he falls deeper into the scent you carry. and it’s perfect like that. just the two of you. no interruptions.

that was the first time jeno realized he was falling in love with you.

you yawn, stretching your limbs as you check the time. it was noon, you managed to sleep in a little later than usual. you look around your room, wondering where jeno could have gone. you pout, feeling an emptiness as you reach the kitchen. but the hole is quickly filled with love when you catch him cursing as he eagerly tries to cook ‘breakfast’. his hair was messy, signalling that he probably just woke up, too. and it was such an unreal sight to see him this way. jeno always managed to put some kind of effort into his appearance everywhere he went, even when he was with you. so being able to see him with messy hair, a crumbled t-shirt, and grey sweatpants.. well, it was a blessing to say the least.

you gnaw at your bottom lip, smiling to yourself, “we both know you can’t cook, idiot.” your arms quickly wrap around him, scaring him half to death as he jumps up with a yelp, almost dropping the egg he held. you tighten your hold on him when he tries to struggle away, resting your head against his back.

he sighs, giving up and placing the egg back in the carton, “i wanted to surprise you.” you can hear the pout, and your heart stings at the gesture. he drops his hands to place them on your arms, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs.

you hum, smiling wider and closing your eyes, the scent of him invading your senses, “you did already.”

“yeah?” he questions, “how’s that?”

you pinch his side and he squeaks, “by not being next to me when i woke up.” you fake pout as you step away from him. he quickly turns around and grabs at your hands, pulling you back into his embrace. your face starts to feel hot at the unexpected movement. you were almost awkwardly pressed into him, but you made it more comfortable in the end, easing into his hold.

“sorry,” he hums back, resting his head on top of yours, “i won’t do it again.”

and your heart thrums against your chest. and you’re almost certain he can feel it, hear it even. but neither of you say anything more, the silence consuming the room and one another tugging softly on the other’s body. it was drowning. you were drowning in a world that revolved around jeno. and, right in that second, you didn’t care. you didn’t seem to mind that your head was flooded with the way his cat eyes looked at you with a certain sparkle. or how his voice made the ends of your hair stand up. he was everything and more of what you wanted. how could you resist the urge to think about him when he was this close?

you rub his back, your nails lightly digging into his skin and making him hum with satisfaction. you knew what he liked for the most part, and you knew he had a thing for when you ran your nails across him. you licked your lips, stuffing your face closer into his hold and he accepts it with a smile. you felt like you were holding the world in your hands and, in a way, you were. jeno was your world. he squeezed his way into your world and made it whole again, just the same way you did with him. you and jeno weren’t always like this. the way the two of you slowly became friends was so stereotypical, the two of you meeting as kids and clicking instantly. you grew up together. created an irresistible bond. and there were times where the two of you fought, arguing and sometimes bringing one another to tears. but, in the end, you always made sure to go back to one another. and it was nice never having to worry about losing each other, because he loved you and you certainly loved him. it was an unspoken truth.

“hey,” jeno starts, his voice soft.

you nod your head, “hm?”

“the stove is burning.”

“why the fuck are you so calm?!” you shove him away, smoke starting to consume the kitchen. and he laughs, watching as the two of you struggle to clear the air before the smoke alarm goes off.

that was the second time jeno realized he was falling in love with you.

you felt almost frozen in your spot. you could feel your body slowly growing heavier and heavier. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, chewing on your bottom lip. jeno’s eyes glaze over you with suspicion, raising an eyebrow at your odd behavior. you were normally the excited, overly hyper one. jeno was the cool-headed one who would just laugh at your excitement. but as your face became drained of emotion, it felt like he was being poured in ice cold water.

“i feel..” you avoid eye contact with him for as long as you could. it was impossible having to look at him so much, your heart would end up cursing you for staring so long. “..i feel insane.”

jeno snorts at that, “why?”

“you make my heart race.” and it shouldn’t have sent him into a frenzy the way it did, but...it did. and his palms were starting to sweat under the sun that was trying to cover just how cold the weather had gotten over time. fall was running in faster than you imagined, and as you clutched your warm drink close to yourself with nimble fingers, he couldn’t stop the smile that stretched past his lips. were you really that nervous?

“don’t be stupid,” his voice was amused and you looked at him with slightly annoyed eyes, “we both know the story of best friends falling in love with each other. how could we be any different?”

you smiled at that, a chuckle bubbling in your throat, “i guess you’re right.”

jeno looks at you with a small smile, his heart starting to pick up in speed. he understood what you meant, truly. because you made his heart race all the same as he made yours race. you looked truly so beautiful under the threatening sun, the cold even preventing you from sweating so it made you look even more like an angel. he laughs a bit at the thought of you shortly complaining about the heat previously before fall came around. you made the world easier, the sun shine brighter. you were his sunshine, and he hoped he was yours as well. you guided him out of the dark when no one else would, when no one else could. you slapped him right back into reality, even with your bubbly personality. and it was a true blessing.

you were a dream.

“i’m always right,” jeno sticks his chin up, and you lightly knock him against his side and he laughs at that, giving you a fake surprised look.

you playfully roll your eyes, staring at him a little longer than usual, “you’re an idiot.”

he gasps, “and you’re mean!” he pouts, looking away from you and towards the pond in front of you.

you continue looking at him, a smile gracing your features. why was he even more beautiful right now? you felt like you were coming right out of some romance novel written just for the two of you. it made your heart skip a beat. you could be with him forever, and you wouldn’t mind. he has made you realize that love is such a pure thing to have.

you brush a strand of his hair out of his face, and he jumps a bit, looking at you with confused eyes. you giggle, “i want to see your face.”

he relaxes into your touch, letting you do as pleased as he stares into your soul, “okay..” he let’s out a breath of air, and you see the way his lips twitch into a small smile. and the world stands still between the two of you. his eyes on you, and yours on his. the magnetic pull was turning serious the longer the two of you stared. and you couldn’t deny the way you felt for him anymore. neither could he.

the minute your lips meet his, the whole entire universe fades away. nothing else mattered than this very moment. the both of you waited months, maybe even years, for this very moment. and it was nothing less than heaven to have him so close, kissing him with all you have left. you sigh into his grip as he raises a hand to stroke your cheek with his thumb. and you smile at the tender gesture, and he seems to smile right back. his lips fit perfectly against your own. how could that be? you were blessed enough to get to kiss him like this. to get to hold him so close. nothing about this very moment felt wrong, or rushed, or too much. it was perfect.

you could feel yourself falling a little deeper when he lightly licks at your bottom lip, asking for access, to which you grant him. you adjust yourself closer, still tightly clutching onto the drink you held. the crispy air was cold on your skin, but he warmed you up. you wrap your arms around his neck, and he leans down to you, kissing you slowly but with fervor. you were drowning in him, everything that he was. everything that he is. the hand that wasn’t holding onto your cup traveled up into his hair, softly tugging and he let’s out a soft noise of approval.

jeno was a dream.

and you were his angel.

that was the third time jeno realized he was falling in love with you.

“i despise exams,” you huff, and jeno laughs at your despair. you glare at him, shooting him a lot that made him lose his grin a bit. he did feel bad for you, truly. but your pouty voice and lips were just too much for him. you were too cute.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he kisses your cheek, making you hum a bit. “take a break.”

you pout again, sighing as your shoulders drop, “i can’t. i have a lot to cover.”

jeno rolls his eyes a bit, turning your chair around, “for me?” his eyes were glossy, shining under the dim lamp. your heart clenched in your chest the longer you stared at him. he smiles a bit when he notices you cracking.

“...jeno-”

he leans down to kiss you, quietting you to ease your nerves. and it works. you let him kiss you deeper into his embrace, accepting him wholly. and he’s grateful that you’re not fighting him. his hands are quick to grasp you in his hold, easing you out of the chair as you let out a soft gasp against his lips when you part away from him in surprise. he chuckles a bit, dragging you away from the horrible pile of books and papers, settling you very softly onto the bed. and you smile at just how tender jeno truly is. he hovers over you, and he’s about to kiss you, but stops right before and smiles at you.

“i love you.”

and it’s the first time hearing it. you can feel your heart beating in your chest wildly. but you have no uncertainty left in your body. the pleasure of having him so close, the feeling you get every time you see him, the way his lips feel on yours. you were not unsure about your feelings. not when it came to jeno. never when it came to him.

“i love you, too.”

and he kisses you like you’re his air. like you’re all he can breathe for the rest of his life, all he wants to breathe. and your head spins, your hands clutching onto his shoulders as he kisses you to the point where you can feel his love dripping out of him. and it’s like you’re living in the clouds, being able to kiss him felt like pure heaven. he let’s out a soft groan when you start to tug on his hair, fingers desperately wanting to clutch onto something. he wasn’t opposed to it though, not in the slightest. especially not when his own hand travels beneath the shirt you wore that just so happened to be his. you let out a sigh against his lips, and he swallows it up. his fingertips were so cold against your warm skin, making your shiver. he notices, pulling apart to chuckle breathlessly. you heave out a breath of your own, looking up at him under the dim lights of the room. and he swears he’s about to lose it.

“jeno,” you say his name with such delicacy, and it drives him insane. you notice him visibly starting to relax under the touch of your fingers coaxing him to fall deeper into you. “do you want to touch me?”

it was such a sudden question, making him look at you with wide eyes and a falter in his breathing. he laughs a bit as you pout at him, “i’m sorry,” he licks his lips which makes you look at him with longing, “what?”

“touch me,” you move the hand that’s on your side down to the waistband of your pants and underwear, biting your bottom lip. and you look so inviting like that, like his own personal angel. “please?”

his fingers twitch in your grasp at the soft plea, making him let out a frustrated noise. you savor the noise, watching as he leans down to press kisses down your jaw and neck, leaving a few marks to let everyone else know just who you belong to. the pretty sounds that leave your mouth make his cock stir to life. he wants to treat you well, make you feel his love. and he does, you do feel it.

as he hears the pretty noises you start to let out, he can’t help himself from rocking his hips into you, his hand still resting at the hem of your pants. but you want more. you need more of him. you whine, wiggling your hips up and brushing against him through his sweatpants. he sighs, resting his forehead against your shoulder as he rolls into you again to gain more friction. the action makes you tangle your hands in his hair tighter.

“jeno, please,” you beg, and you’ve never begged for anything like this before. you hear his deep chuckle, breathless.

“sorry, baby.” he leans back, fingers finally starting to pull down your leggings. you eagerly smile, happy to finally get him to do something. he’s quick to have your underwear and shirt joining along too, admiring how pretty you look laid out for him. you feel so vulnerable under his stare, while he sits fully clothed. but you can feel his admiration, making you filled with love. his love. “you’re so fucking ... beautiful.”

you laugh at his choice of words, your own hands making work of his shirt, lifting it over his head, “i can’t be the only one naked right now.” you end up stripping him of his shirt and sweatpants, admiring the bulge in his underwear. he looked so ethereal like this in front of you. he smiles at you, before leaning down and kissing you again, his fingers making contact with your wetness between your legs. he hums against you, his eyebrows furrowing.

“you’re so wet,” he comments, licking your bottom lip before softly biting down and capturing it between his teeth. the little noise you make goes straight south for him, his eyes darkening the longer he touches you. he presses tight circles against your clit all of a sudden, making your body jolt against him. he smiles to himself, the reaction he gets out of you making his ego float.

your core clenches around nothing, gasping against his lips as they hover against your own. you can feel and see the soft smile he has. your legs want to close in on him, but he leans back and pushes one of your legs to the bed, his fingers working faster against your clit which has your eyes rolling back in your head. he presses harder, getting a sweet reaction out of you.

“you’re so sensitive, baby.” he hums, watching as you start to thrash below him. he enjoys you like this. he inserts two of his fingers slowly, making you start to lose your mind. “and so tight.” he hisses, dragging his fingers along your inner walls. his eyes travel down from your face to your pussy, watching as his fingers disappear and reappear with each gentle thrust. he groans, starting to quicken his pace just to watch how wet you get for him. the sounds of your core clenching and sucking his fingers right back in make him feel dizzy, consumed by you.

“such a pretty cunt,” he says more-so to himself, but you hear it and it makes you buck your hips up. he catches this, licking his lips as the hand that’s holding onto your thigh tightens. you can feel his fingertips digging into the soft skin of your thigh, but you could really care less as jeno curls his fingers upwards to reach your sweet spot. he was so skilled with his fingers, more skilled than you thought.

“jeno,” you moan out his name, and he swears he’s heard an angel at this point.

“say it again,” he curls his fingers over and over again, hitting that sweet spongey spot inside of you with every quick thrust of his fingers, “say my name again.”

“god, jeno, you’re so good,” you whine, one of your hands reaching out to the hand on your thigh, feeling as he tightens his grasp there once again. your other hand is desperately clutching onto the sheets below you, back arching and your stomach tightening towards your release. “i.. i’m gonna c-cum.” you sigh, your voice threatening to give out.

and you’re so close to releasing all over his fingers, before he pulls them out with a satisfied look. when you go to whine at him, he pushes his fingers past your lips just so you can taste yourself. you suck and lick his fingers clean, his hooded eyes looking at you with hunger. he tilts his head a bit as he leans down again towards you, kissing you and shoving his tongue in your mouth so he can taste you too. the animalistic groan he let’s out goes straight to your core, your impending orgasm waiting to be finished.

“jeno, please please, let me cum,” you huff against his lips, looking at him with begging eyes. he swears he has never seen a sight so beautiful before.

“i want you to cum on my dick,” he states, making work to shove his underwear off his hips, “do you want that, pretty angel?”

you nod your head quickly, “yes, please. i want your cock inside me so bad, please give it to me.”

“don’t even have to tell you to beg,” he chuckles, and once his cock is out, you can’t help yourself from admiring it. you just knew you were dripping at this point, you can feel it running down your thighs. you sigh out, pulling him closer to you by his shoulders.

“fill me up, jeno.” you whisper in his ear, licking along the shell of it. he shudders against you, falling right into you and wanting nothing more than to please you. when you start to feel him lining up against you, he kisses you. and it’s so sweet. jeno was a romantic at heart, wanting nothing else than to make you happy. you could feel his love, just as he hoped you would. you could only hope he felt your love just as much. “i’m on the pill.” you weren’t a virgin, and neither was he. but you knew you needed to remind him anyway, despite being friends all these years and him knowing everything about you.

he kisses your cheek, “i know.” you would have laughed at the blatant answer, if it weren’t for him pressing the head of his cock into you and making you gasp. he slowly eases into you, “you’re so fucking tight, y/n.” he groans, his head falling into your shoulder again and letting out pants. your pussy clenches around him as he bottoms out, practically knocking the wind out of him. “stop that,” he rests his hands on either side of your head, leaning up again to look at you. “i’ll cum early.”

you laugh, “please move, jeno.” the second he starts to pull back and thrust right back in, one of your hands makes way to his hair and tugs. your other hand rakes down his back, nails digging. and he enjoys it so much, definitely adding pleasure to the way your cunt was swallowing him whole.

“fuck,” he shudders as he rhythmically moves inside you, “such a good girl.” he kisses you briefly before leaning back up and quickening the pace of his hips. the tip of his dick presses so good against your sweet spot, your previous orgasm creeping up on you slowly. you were almost embarrassed for how fast he had you tightening around him. he furrows his eyebrows, suddenly concentrated on you and the sweet noises and faces you make. “my pretty baby.”

you press your nails harder into his back, afraid you’ll leave marks but not stopping, “jeno, oh my god. you’re so-” you whine, unable to finish your sentence as he thrusts particularly harder just that once. “so good, so big.”

he chuckles, biting his lower lip. he was so unreal, so captivating and fucking you so good that you swore you had never felt so good in your entire life. he was putting his all into you. you were so unbearably wet, making the glide of his cock so much easier and feel so much better. you were starting to lose your mind, sweat covering both of your bodies by now.

“i want you to cum all over me,” he moves one of his hands to your clit, making tight circles once again that has your pussy gripping his dick, “want to feel you cum all over my cock and make a mess.”

your eyes roll into the back of your head, thighs starting to shake as you wrap them around his waist, bringing him closer, “jeno, oh fuck. please, i’m gonna cum, i wanna cum for you.”

he groans, the hand that isn’t incessantly rubbing your clit tightening into the sheets beside your head, he can feel his stomach threatening to snap but he wants you to cum for him first, wants to feel you fall apart.

“fucking cum, baby. let me feel you cum.”

his voice sets you off, a loud call of his name falling from your lips as you tighten around him over and over again, milking him for all he’s worth. jeno let’s out the prettiest noises as he releases into you finally, his hips riding out both of your highs as he stutters against you. it feels so good like that, to have him so close and to feel him fill you up so well.

nothing could beat this, absolutely nothing.

jeno was in love with you.

“here,” jeno hands you your favorite drink, smiling subtly. and you thank him with a kiss on the cheek, a small gesture that always made jeno’s cheeks turn a bit pink. you loved the effect you had on him, even when he pouted as you giggled at his expense. “anything else?” he has hopeful eyes as you smile at him softly.

“i’m fine.” your response was short, and it seemed to have slightly caused a strain in his heart. “hm?” you asked subtly, not to cause too much attention to the problem. because, in all honesty, you weren’t sure what the problem was.

jeno’s mouth tilts up, “nothing.” he was just as short. and maybe that was where everything went wrong. you said nothing as you curtly nodded your head, looking back at your pile of papers that were messily scrambled all over your desk. you were a hard worker, and he admired you for it. but some days he wished he could have you to himself for once. he knew that wasn’t the case, though. he would never get you the way he wanted for very long.

his voice cuts the tense silence, “y/n.” and it sounds throughout the room, creating a bigger tension.

you look at him as he leans against your desk, his hip digging into the wood, “yeah?”

“i miss you.” it’s a quiet declaration, swimming through your head.

“i’m right here-”

he’s quick to object, furrowing his eyebrows, “but you’re not.” and that’s when the world beneath you starts to shatter.

you hated that he was right. you wanted to tell him that he’s wrong, prove him he’s not right about this one. but you just sat there, staring at him with slightly wide eyes. he wanted you to prove him wrong, too, but he knew you wouldn’t. and as the air turned thick and his chest became tighter, you became weaker. were you dragging him down?

“jeno, we’ve been best friends for how long?”

the question swims in his head, and he realizes what you’re saying. “since kids.”

you sigh, looking down at the pile of papers you have, “you know how goal oriented i am.” you look back at him and see he’s furrowing his eyebrows to hold back the small tears threatening to fall. “i can’t promise to always be the person you want, or the person you need. we both know how my past relationships went. i was the heartbreaker in the end.” you were so articulate with your response, and it made the hole in his chest bigger.

the room fell silent after this. both of you knew you were right this whole time. there were unsaid words hanging by a thread, but neither of you chose to speak. all you could hear was the disappointed sigh jeno let out. you stare at him, and you realize how painful this must really be for him. he fell in love with his best friend, just to have you push him away. you swallow harshly, looking away from him to gather your thoughts.

“i’m sorry.” you don’t apologize often, and it surprises him as you uncomfortably shift in your seat. “i love you, jeno. i do, i swear i do.”

jeno licks his lips and gulps, “i love you, too.”

you take one last look at your pile of papers, before getting up from your seat that was really starting to hurt your back. you spent way too many hours sitting there and pressing pencils and pens into papers. you make your way towards jeno, and when you reach him you see a new type of glimmer in his eyes. your hands reach out to him, cupping his face to show him that you were there. and you kiss him to prove that you’re not leaving. and it feels like life couldn’t get better than this, as cheesy as that sounds. because you had him, and he finally felt like he had you.

jeno was so, so in love with you. and he knew you were in love with him.

he was convinced that was all he needed.

“i’m done!” you scream, rushing in your boyfriend’s room. you could feel the excitement bubbling in your chest as you catch sight of jeno with wet hair and glasses. he wasn’t wearing a shirt, just sweatpants. and that made him more beautiful in your eyes. you eyed him, smiling as he looks at you curiously.

“done with what?” he greets you with a soft kiss, but you’re eager for more as you grab his face and press your lips on his with fervour. he grunts into the kiss, hands quickly catching your hips and pulling you towards him. you sigh, a small noise escaping your throat. this was so familiar to you, and you loved it. you loved jeno.

“exams,” you pull back, catching your breath. he chuckles, staring at you with a shine in his eyes. “i finished exams finally. i’m all yours now.” jeno raises an eyebrow at this, looking at you with a playful glint. you roll your eyes, “you’re such a perve.”

“but you’re smiling,” he kisses you again, shutting you up for a minute. and while you would normally start to bicker back, you couldn’t bring yourself to this time as you trailed your fingers across the bare skin of his chest. his skin was so smooth, so soft under the touch.

and you really wouldn’t replace this moment for anything else. because, currently, you were on top of him, riding his cock like your life depended on it. you were unsure how things escalated so quickly, but sooner or later the both of you stripped of clothing and you were on his dick. and it felt so good to have him like this.

“baby,” his voice was raspy, lower than usual. your fingernails were digging into the soft skin on his chest, creating marks that were going to remind him for quite a few days just how good you make him feel. “you feel so, so good.”

jeno praising you send a jolt through your body, your walls unintentionally clenching around him, making him throw his head back. “jeno,” you whine, rocking your hips back and forth before bouncing on top of him again. and your thighs were definitely burning, but you could care less at this point. the expressions jeno was giving you were enough for you to keep going just for him. “fuck.” he was filling you up so well, his cock starting to twitch inside of you.

“yeah, baby? does it feel good?” he asks, his hands clutching onto your thighs like his life depended on it. but it felt so good, for some reason. the sting his fingers would give when he dug them in your skin was something you actually really enjoyed. “you just love using my cock, don’t you?”

your mouth hangs open, still not used to his filthy mouth. you were losing your mind, he was really starting to fuck you stupid. you moan, the noise going straight to jeno’s dick as he pushes his hips up to meet your own. you so desperately wanted to last longer, to make him cum first. but as he reaches over to press a thumb to your clit while you ride him faster, harder, you feel yourself losing grip on your sanity. jeno never failed to amaze you.

“jeno, fuck,” your nails dig harshly into his chest as he presses his hips into yours again, his thumb and cock bringing you closer and closer to the edge. “i’m so close.” you gasp out.

he hums back, a smirk playing on his face, “you can cum, baby. cum all over me like you always do.”

and you can’t find it in yourself to deny him, not when he feels this good and especially not when you’re so close. your core clenches around him so tight, almost making it impossible for him to move his cock in and out of you. the scream you let out of his name sends him right over the edge with you, your own name falling from his lips in groans. his and your nails are digging into one another’s skin, but neither of you are complaining. you can feel his cum start to drip down both of your thighs, making you whine as you look into his eyes. he was so fucked out, his hair messy from the bed and his eyes glazed over watching your every move. you could stay like this forever.

“jeno,” your voice sounded so tiny, and you sigh as you make a move to get off him. but not without him bringing your face to his for a small kiss.

“let me clean you up-”

“let’s take a bath,” you suggest, and he just nods his head while grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss on the back of it. jeno was a romantic by heart, always giving you what you didn’t know you wanted and needed in your life. and as you two set the water to a temperature the both of you like, sinking into the water and cleaning one another; life felt so perfect right then and there. there was no replacing the feeling of jeno placing wet kisses on your shoulder, holding you close to him with your back against his chest.

“i love you.” and it’s so soft, a whisper in your ear that sends a shiver down your spine. but you’re never complaining.

“i love you more,” you whisper back, leaning into him even more. jeno helps clean you, sitting in the bath and creating a somewhat romantic atmosphere. it was so cheesy, but it was jeno. you were creating moments with jeno, and jeno alone. your eyes travel to one of his hands making move to intertwine with one of your own. you sigh, squeezing his hand.

jeno smiles, placing a kiss behind your ear, “i could stay like this forever.”

“the water will get cold,” you say back, a giggle bubbling in your chest as he scoffs. but he’s already smiling. “and we will be so pruny.”

at this, jeno lightly pinches your side with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. you let out a soft squeak, feeling and hearing the rumble of a laugh in his chest. “i’m trying to be cute here!”

you smile, tilting your head to lock eyes with him, “you don’t have to try.”

jeno scrunches his nose up at this, “okay, i see why you ruined it.” you roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face. jeno smiles back before leaning to give you a soft kiss.

maybe you do want to stay like this forever.

“am i good enough for you?”

you come to a halt in your steps when you hear those words. the laundry in your hands slip a bit, making you come back to reality as you feel a shirt start to fall out of the basket. you catch it before it reaches the ground, but the question is still floating in the air. and there’s no describing the pain you feel as you heave a sigh out of your chest, placing the basket on the nearest surface. what made him ask such a question? but you don’t ask that. you can’t have him thinking he isn’t enough by asking another question. instead, you make way towards him and grab his face. the look in your eyes makes him falter a bit, regretting even asking the question. jeno wasn’t known for being too emotional, always keeping his distance at times. both of you were extremely respective of what the other would share emotionally. you understood one another’s feelings anyway, spoken or not.

“lee jeno, you are more than good enough for me.”

it makes his heart beat a little too quickly. your eyes were so determined, making him gulp. “i’m sorry, i’m not sure why i-”

“whoever made you think you’re not good enough,” you pause, eyes narrowing, “does not deserve you.”

and it sends him spiraling, the room falling silent at your words. you always manage to take his breath away, in every sense of the word. maybe this was when he truly realized he couldn’t live without you. maybe this was why he fell so deeply in love with you. maybe he didn’t need anyone else, but you. and as you hold his face in your hands, he can’t help from admiring you up close. you had such beautiful features, making him start to lose focus in everything that wasn’t revolved around you. was this toxic for him? was it unhealthy to be so in love with someone? he didn’t think so. not when it came to you, never when it came to you.

“i’m in love with you.”

your eyes turn wide. was this a different way of saying ‘i love you’? you didn’t think so. you saw this as a deeper meaning of it, something neither of you have discussed. in the midst of falling in love with jeno, you never thought he would outright say he was in love with you. jeno wasn’t too keen on heavy feelings, always resulting in the two of you bickering, but not really bickering. you were both playful, never too serious. it was one of the reasons the two of you got along so well. but staring into jeno’s eyes in this very moment in time, you realize that isn’t the case this time. he was serious, too serious.

but maybe you were, too.

“i’m in love with you, too.”

he kisses you like you’re his air. like you’re all he needs to breathe for the rest of his life. and maybe he’s convinced that you are his air, that you are all he needs to breathe for the rest of his life. jeno was not going to deny the feelings he had for you, even if it killed him. even if you didn’t really feel the same for him. he would always choose you. time and time again, he would choose you. and the way your lips meld with his own like you depend on one another, it was all he needed.

you are all he needs.

“happy twelve months.”

you lean your head into your hand, staring at him with a raised eyebrow, “jeno, just say one year.” you’re smiling, there’s no denying that fact. you could feel excitement bubbling up in your chest the longer you sit there, face scrunching up further.

jeno rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. he’s definitely smiling. “at least act excited.”

you quickly get up from your seat, “happy one year, jeno.” the sweet kiss you press to his lips serve justice in ways words couldn’t. the two of you always struggled verbally, never having enough words to justify your feelings. but in this moment while kissing him so softly and sweetly, you realize that you don’t need words all the time. it was the little things that brought you closer. it was times like these in one another’s embrace, lips locked, hearts connected. these moments counted the most.

“i love you,” he whispers against your lips. and you know it means so much more than those three words. you know he’s laying his heart on the line for you, declaring his love in the only ways he knows how. and you don’t ask for more than this. you could never ask for more than this.

“i love you, too.” and he accepts your declaration of love back, his body practically molding with your own as he holds you closer and kisses you rougher. his tongue comes in contact with your own, a sigh falling from the back of your throat. and he couldn’t imagine this with anyone else, but you. it would always be you. he knows this.

the rising sun shines on your skin, making you look ethereal in his eyes as he pulls apart from you. you look like an angel to him. he smiles at you, his hands on your waist and his heart beating fast. he takes a mental picture in his head, making sure to keep this memory forever. you seem to break him out of his trance as you start to chuckle, and he can’t stop himself from smiling back. you had a glow to you that was shining right back onto him. whatever you felt, he felt it, too. was this apart of being in love? he wasn’t complaining if it was.

“earth to jeno,” you sing, hand coming up to run your fingers through his hair. he leans into your touch, humming.

“just admiring you,” he responds, seeing the way your face flickers with embarrassment. he chuckles back when you shoot a glare at him. jeno wasn’t known for being extremely straight-forward, but he did always manage to say what was on his mind. you adored him regardless.

“shut up,” but you just can’t seem to help yourself.

jeno laughs, throwing his head back with a wide smile on his face, “you’re cute when embarrassed.” he kisses your cheek, “my flustered baby.”

your eyes widen, “where the hell is this coming from? are you learning from jaemin, or something?!”

he smiles, his eyes scrunching up, “not the point.”

you roll your eyes, about to shoot back another remark, but he seems to know this because next thing you know his lips are back on yours. and you were definitely not going to pass up a kiss from your boyfriend. especially when he tastes like fresh mint and a hint of your cherry chapstick that he borrowed. you sigh, the feeling of home spreading throughout your body. jeno was your own form of home. and that was more than enough for you.

spending a year with jeno; definitely well spent.

“anniversary sex?” he asks, voice low and turning dark.

you giggle, lips trailing down his jaw and neck before biting playfully, “absolutely.”

and you can feel his love pouring out of him as he fucks you into the bed, your legs spread just for him. his cock stretching you like always. his eyes were intense that night, eyeing you and demanding you keep your focus on him the whole entire time. his movements were languid, dragging out the pleasure for as long as he could. he locks one of his hands with yours, the other digging into your thigh. and he admires you like this, falling apart just for him.

“you take my cock so well,” he breathes, dick twitching inside of you when you clench at the praise. “fuck, angel. so tight.”

you whine, “jeno, please, faster.”

he so desperately wanted to drag this out for as long as he could, but he could barely handle it anymore. there was sweat forming on his forehead, his lungs gasping for air as you start to sporadically tighten around his cock. and he can’t seem to deny you both the pleasure any longer, finally picking up speed and the sounds of skin on skin echoing into the room alongside your pretty moans of his name. he lives for this, lives to please you.

“jesus,” he grunts, “your sweet pussy is so good, and all for me to take.”

you nod your head, the hand that wasn’t holding his scratching down his back, “yes, yes. all yours, jeno.” and he approves of this, a groan falling past his lips. you can’t hold yourself for much longer. “i’ll cum, i’m gonna cum, jeno.”

jeno smiles at this, leaning down to lick at your bottom lip before biting softly, “look at me,” your eyes lock, “cum, baby. cum on my cock.”

you fall apart for him, his own cum filling you up and bringing you back to earth as you struggle to leave your eyes open to stare at him. but he has such a pretty expression as he cums, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth slightly agape. he was breathtaking, absolutely beautiful in your eyes. you feel his hand tighten around your own as he cums, leaning his head down to the crook of your neck after. you can feel his heavy breathing and the soft kisses he’s placing there. you smile, reaching your other hand up to stroke his hair. he practically purrs for you, his body further leaning into you.

“happy one year, y/n.”

you laugh, exhaustion hitting, “happy one year, jeno.”

jeno loves you, and you love him.

and you know that’s enough.

a/n: i hope it was everything you could want :(

taglist: just the girl i’m in love with @junguws i wrote this mainly for her haha

#jeno #jeno smut #UR-NET #nct smut #nct #nct jeno smut #lee jeno #lee jeno smut #jeno x reader #jeno fic #jeno angst #jeno fluff #00 line #00 line smut #nct 00 line smut #00line smut #lee jeno angst #lee jeno fluff

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lisinfleur · 3 years

Text

Shelter

The request:

Author’s Notes | I took the chance for Day Felice’s new album and wrote it while listening to their song Shelter, if you guys want to listen to it while reading as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! (And the song too haha). Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon. Words | 1878 ⁑ Warnings: Mentions to child abuse and abandonment. Wounds, blood, and some angst.

His chariot noise was always something that would help his mind to ease after any kind of arguing. And with his wife, it wasn't different. This morning he’d left after a huge discussion with her.

Why was Y/N so worried about a slave child?

Ivar insisted several times she should just forget the thing and let it go. It wasn't their responsibility! And more: by taking leftovers and water for that child every night, she was only making the little thing's suffering longer!

"It would be dead already if it wasn't for you, feeding it every night!" he remembered trying to insist.

But Y/N's was stone-headed! Every single night, there was his queen, dressing her cloak and leaving his castle - once a former church - to visit the thing that now wasn't moving places, of course.

Someone was feeding it, helping it, all the time! Why would it be stupid and leave it behind?

Ivar was getting used to passing by that child every day as if the girl was some kind of door or local decoration. But not for his wife. Not his Y/N and her heart blessed by Frigg.

She was a natural mother. He knew that! It was one of the reasons he chose her the love Y/N would show for any child she could have around.

But when she came with that stupid idea, it went too far for him.

"I'm going to take her home."

A thing.

A useless thing that wouldn't serve not even as a slave, so thin it was.

They've discussed it for hours. Ivar screamed at Y/N she was insane, perhaps touched by some local spirit. Y/N yelled he was an insensitive motherfucker who could fuck himself out of her room if he thought she would let a child starve to death on her door.

As always, their love was intense but also was their anger. And whenever they would yell at each other, one of them would end up hurt.

This time, it was her.

"I don't fucking care about what you think! It's cattle, Y/N! Cattle die! And that's it! I won't spend my supplies with a thing that can barely give anything back to us!"

Or maybe not.

Perhaps... It was him.

"Fine then. Let us guide her to the woods and leave her to the wolves, Ivar. Isn't it what we do with useless things? Oh, wait... Wasn't it what your father did to you?"

Their words would always hurt each other deeper than they wanted to hurt. Their hearts would regret the words said at the moment they’d left their mouths.

But this time, her words forced his eyes to look out of his chariot. And Ivar stopped it by the street near where that thing was sitting, observing. Trying to understand why his wife was trying so hard to save that starving child.

Why was she comparing them as if there was anything in common between him and a Saxon abandoned child?

It was early in the morning. He watched as the little girl unwrapped the leftovers his wife had given to her the last night. At first, Ivar thought the little hungry thing would, of course, eat everything without care. But he watched with surprise as she fractioned the little portion, eating a quarter of it and saving the rest for later.

It was an intelligent move... She wasn’t a wild animal, after all.

That would be a cold day. Ivar observed as the little one looked up to the sky. The sun was born behind some heavy clouds - probably some rain would be coming at night.

He watched as the little thing looked around, smartly stealing a barrel from the trash of a nearby store, checking on its wooden pieces to place it properly as a shelter. She was young and thin enough to fit into it. It would serve for the night and maybe keep her warm.

The owner of the store, so as some people who were passing by, pushed her here or there, complaining about her attempts to move between them. And Ivar watched as the little girl looked up from the ground to the bigger people around her, fearlessly.

She wasn't such a defenseless little thing as he thought she was.

In fact, she was pretty smarter than he thought a Saxon child could be, hiding her barrel between the mead barrels of the same store, covering its problems with some mud, so the owner wouldn't see it wasn't one of his barrels.

She wouldn't have her shelter for the night thrown away or broken before she could use it.

Ivar lost track of the time he spent there, watching the girl moving here and there, gathering stones and mud to imitate the shop owner's way of stocking his barrels and preserving hers.

But the important matters of the town had to be more important than his arguing with his wife, and with this, Ivar moved away from that place.

His mind wondered if that was the reason why his wife was so sure he and that child had something in common.

The little girl was a fighter like he was someday, indeed. She was fighting her way to keep herself alive and, perhaps, his precious Y/N was right, and death wasn't exactly the fate that child had in this world.

Ivar tried to get himself occupied during the day. But the truth was that his mind never stopped lingering over Y/N's words, passing over and over the things he had seen that morning.

When the night was threatening to come, the sky broke in water as he thought it would. But curiosity dragged him away from the path to his home.

Ivar wanted to see if the little girl's plan had gone right and what was his surprise when he found the little one sitting away from the store under the heavy rain, with nothing but a rag to cover herself and wounds everywhere.

The barrel she'd tried so hard to protect was shattered near the store's trash, and a fence was placed by the owner around his barrels with some spikes near the place she was sitting before. It was preventing her from having coverage under his roof, even from the outside.

That angered Ivar a little. He'd seen her hard work! And, in the end, her plan had failed. She was clearly beaten and wet from her head to her toes anyway.

However, his eyes caught something he wasn't expecting.

After eating the last piece of what his wife had given to her, the little girl extended the leather over a hole he watched her carve with her bare hands on the ground. Treated, the leather started to catch water and fill itself, becoming a bag into the hole. The little girl caught the bag before it could lose its content, tied the leather with a strand of her ragged trousers, and created a canteen from where she started drinking the rainwater, relieving her thirst.

She was beaten down, defeated. Yet, she didn't give up. She didn't lay her pride down. And found herself a way to turn that rain into a chance for her to survive one more day.

There was determination in her eyes.

That little thing wasn't being sustained by his wife's crumbs. No. She was fighting to the limit of her strength to survive.

Like he'd done someday...

Ivar's eyes filled with surprise when he could see himself in that little girl's wounds, dragging himself through the mud when everyone thought he would never move.

Standing, when everyone was expecting his legs to break and let him fall.

She was a fighter. And, maybe, Y/N was right. Perhaps it wasn't about a Saxon child or a useless slave. Perhaps the gods were showing him they've chosen that little thing, to give her a chance, to reward her for the fight she was putting on for her life.

"Get in," Ivar's voice sounded.

The little thin thing lifted her eyes to see the mighty Viking looking at her from the chariot everyone from her people was taught to fear. Her wounded little body could barely reach the top of its wheels when she got up to look at Ivar.

Her eyes into his, instigating even more the curiosity he was starting to have about that little Saxon thing.

How fierce would she be if raised under his roof?

But the little thing didn't get up on his chariot at once. Instead, she lowered herself, gathering more stones with her muddy and wounded hands.

"I said get in! Don't you see you'll end up dying under this rain?" Ivar complained, annoyed he was standing under such heavy and cold waters for a thing that dared to turn her back on him, carving the floor and placing the stones in a way the rain wouldn't destroy her little monument. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I must do it, sir," she mumbled.

Ivar could recognize a small stone monument in that little girl's construction. His people were used to rising those little towers to pray for the gods or place small sacrifices and offers.

Was Y/N teaching her about the gods?

"Why?" he asked as she tried to climb up on his chariot, struggling a little with the height and her wounded knees.

"It is for the lady who comes here every day," she mumbled. "I promised if I ever was to leave, I would leave one of these for her, so she would know I'm not dead."

For his wife.

She was leaving a stone monument for Y/N, so she wouldn't be worried...

"I don't know where you're taking me, king Ivar," she said, showing she knew who he was. "But I don't want her to be sad."

Ivar's heart ached. There was indeed something in common between him and that child. But not only the fact that both of them were survivors.

She didn't want his wife to be hurt.

And so didn't he.

"Cover yourself," he said, throwing his warm cloak around her.

It covered her like a blanket in which she rolled herself, nestling with a grateful smile.

"She was right," the little girl mumbled as Ivar started to ride his horses.

"What?" he asked, and she repeated, smiling at him.

"The lady was right." She said. "The gods were watching me. Maybe I passed their test."

Y/N was definitely teaching that girl. And Ivar sighed, looking at the road.

Perhaps it was a test for himself as well. Or Skuld just had decided to use him as a feather to write that little girl's fate differently.

"Skuld," he said, catching her eyes. "We shall name you Skuld. To honor the god that wrote your fate like this."

"Skuld," she tried.

Pronouncing it perfectly.

"Sounds strong... I like it!"

What a petulant little thing, Ivar thought. As if she had any choice on how things would be from now on. A giggle filled Ivar's mouth.

Y/N was right and he would remember apologising after coming home that night.

The little girl wasn’t a useless thing. And he had to admit.

She was like him, after all.

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Tagged ones:

|| @bluearchersstuff || @ivarswickedqueen || @akamaiden || @bang-kim-bap || @cris101071 || @elysias-temple || @alicedopey || @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla || @lol-haha-joke || @readsalot73 || @rekdreams247 || @naaladareia || @laketaj24 || @therealcalicali || @grungyblonde || @arses21434 || @honestsycrets || @2thequietone4 || @blackspiritshake || @vikingsbifrost || @wallabieswisher || @cyarikashakira || @chinduda || @isthat-tyra98 || @xinyourdreamsx || @thiahilmarsdottir || @queenbeeta || @winchesterwife27 || @gold-dragon-slayer || @mzliterarydreamer || @youbloodymadgenius || @marvelouuse || @tgrrose || @lif3snotouttogetyou || @lordsexmachine || @deathbyarabbit || @ietss || @thorins-queen-of-erebor || @didiintheblog || @h-e-a-v-y-l-e-a-t-h-e-r || @heavenly1927 || @alexhandersenx || @alexisshoto || @letsloveimagines || @astrape-the-weatherwitch || @destynelseclipsa || @charming-merlin || @violetidk || @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie || @ghvsts || @littlemoonchildbear ||

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#history vikings #imagine vikings #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar's heathen army #sister wives #htgi #shot

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tomboyneedshercoffee · 4 years

Text

Lovedust Pt.8 || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Summary: Y/N and Josh talk things over about where they stand as Y/N tries to build the courage to confess to Peter. One night on top of the roof, Y/N and Peter reveal any secrets they’ve been keeping from each other.

Word Count: 5k

Author’s Note: This is technically the last part of Lovedust but there will be an epilogue. I was going to go a whole different direction and make it too angsty because sometimes, life works out that way but you guys deserve a happy ending ;) This series was only meant to be about three parts long but because of ow supportive and kind you all have been, I just have no words except thank you all so much. I will give a better thank you for the epilogue but until then, enjoy the chapter.

Warning: adult language

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || epilogue

You stared up at your bedroom ceiling quietly, picking at the stitching of your blanket to the point where you had about four inches of loose thread massaged between your thumb and middle finger.

Three minutes.

Peter was presumed dead for three minutes as you were giving him CPR that was literally a race against the clock. One hundred eighty seconds was the span between life or death and you couldn’t help but think of what if you had stopped after a minute? What about one hundred and seventy-nine seconds?

Three minutes. Your mind was so fucked that the only thing you could compare the time to was that Peter was dead longer than the time it took to pop a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

You thought back to the time where you had gone to California with Tony where you were alone in the hotel room while he had a conference. You remembered how scared you felt when the ground started to shake underneath you as the earth rolled underneath.

That earthquake must’ve only lasted fifteen seconds tops and yet, you felt like it was an eternity of shielding yourself underneath one of the desks that would’ve surely broken if the roof caved in overhead.

It’s odd how times works, whenever you’re in a dangerous situation, your body literally slows downtime so you can have the best chance at survival. So while those three minutes didn’t seem like a long time, the lingering fear of losing Peter after everything sent your body through emotional distress like no other.

It felt like a cruel joke; you had only come to realize you were in love with him when he was dying in front of you. What was even crueler was that even though everything seemed less complicated now that you really understood how you felt about him, it was only the tip of the iceberg.

It had been a few days since you had seen Peter since the night of the party and you felt like you were slowly losing your sanity. Your dad tried convincing you that Peter needed to be monitored for a while but maybe he just wanted you two to stay away from each other since you practically almost killed him by kissing Josh.

You loved Peter and he “loved” you yet once he was cured, he wouldn’t share the same feelings for you. What would happen once he was cured? How different would things be between you, especially since you would be having feelings for someone who doesn’t love you back?

Loving someone who surely wasn’t in love with you felt like a whole new level of self-destruction.

Your phone rang from underneath your pillow and temporarily interrupted your thoughts. You reached under the pillow to pull out your phone to find that Josh was calling you.

You inhaled sharply as you practically leaped out from under your covers, unsure of what to do.

The last you heard from Josh was the night of the party but just like Peter, you hadn’t seen or spoke to him since. That wasn’t the full truth, Josh had been texting you to make sure you were okay but you didn’t have the strength to even reply to his worried texts.

Poor Josh. He felt like an innocent bystander who got hit in the crossfire of what was going on between you and Peter.

In past relationships, you were like Josh. Your past boyfriends seem to always treat you as a rebound, a backup in case things went south and as gross as it made you feel, it was like you could sort of understand why your exes felt that way.

You didn’t want to lead Josh on, he was too nice of a guy to deserve that type of treatment. Your thumb hovered over the screen and you answered his call at the last second. He deserved that at the least.

“ Hey sorry, I was um, preoccupied. Is everything okay?” You asked as you started to pace your room.

“ I was going to ask the same for you. You haven’t been answering my texts and I was getting worried.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as a wave of guilt washed over you,” Y-Yeah I’m sorry. I’ve just been going through some stuff. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“ You don’t have to apologize, I get it. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something in person, are you doing anything at the moment?

You rolled your shoulders back as you let out a deep sigh. In all honesty, you didn’t feel like leaving your room but if you were going to pick Peter over Josh, you also would have to owe him an explanation.

“ Okay, where do you want to meet?”

“ We can meet outside your complex, I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“ Oh that’s probably easier anyway, when are you gonna come over?” You asked as you fell backwards onto your bed.

“ Um...I’m already outside.”

Your eyes widened as you scrambled over to your window to squint out towards the entrance. Sure enough, if you squinted really hard, you could make out Josh’s car outside the front gate.

“ Oh fuck! Sorry um, I’m coming out now!” You didn’t bother to let Josh respond as you hung up the phone and practically rushed out of your bedroom.

You practically sprinted across the front lawn all the way to the entrance and once you opened the gate, you leaned your body against the side of Josh’s car to help catch your breath.

“ You didn’t have to run all the way here, I could’ve waited,” Josh said with a smile as he watched you struggling.

“ I know,” You huffed as you felt yourself calm down,” but it would have been awkward if you just stood there for five minutes and watched me walk the whole way.”

“ Okay, that’s fair,” Josh chuckled as he leaned against the side of his car beside you,” I wanted to talk to you about the night of the party. I just want to make sure you’re okay and I’m sorry if I overstepped by kissing you. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

You felt your heartstrings tug at his words as you looked down at your flip flops. You didn’t know how to explain to him that he wasn’t the one who overstepped but that the kiss was never supposed to happen.

“ You don’t have to apologize Josh and you didn’t make me uncomfortable at all. It’s just...I know how you feel about me and don’t get me wrong, I’m so flattered that you actually like me because to be honest, you’re way out of my league but um,” You awkwardly rubbed your sweaty hands against your pajama bottoms and let out a shaky breath,” I thought things were fine and that they would go back to normal but um, things kinda just happened and you were there and I thought hey he’s cute, like super cute, and Kim was being so pushy-”

“ I know you have feelings for Peter, it’s okay Y/N,” Josh interrupted as he took a moment before wincing,” I didn’t mean to interrupt you but I had a feeling that’s where you were heading with it. Plus you ramble when you’re nervous and I don’t want you to say something embarrassing. ”

Bless his soul, Josh really would be the death of you.

“ Is it that obvious I like him?”

“ Painfully obvious yeah. I kinda figured you two had something going on but after you gave him CPR and you two gave each other that look, that’s when it all clicked for me,” Josh said as you felt the tips of your ears get hot.

“ Josh, I am so sorry. I really mean it when I say that you’re the sweetest guy I have ever met and I really do wish you the best,” You answered honestly and you felt even guiltier when Josh only shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t believe that even now as you were telling Josh you didn’t share feelings for him that he was still being incredibly sweet towards you.

“ Same goes for you, I hope he treats you the way you deserve to be treated. I have to be honest and say that I can’t get rid of my feelings for you overnight but hopefully we can be friends somewhere along the line,” Josh offered as you felt your heart snap in two.

As you looked back at Josh, that’s when you could really make out the distinct difference between the two boys. You weren’t sure if what Josh was saying was truthful, he was harder to read than Peter and even though his mouth was saying one thing, you could see that there was some pain behind his brown eyes that told a different story.

Yet nonetheless, you admired that Josh, despite having the full right to completely guilt you and make you feel like shit because of what happened, still chose to put any malicious intent aside for your own good.

“ Is it okay if I hug you?” You asked as Josh returned a sweet smile, embracing you in his strong arms.

Despite the heaviness in Josh’s chest, he felt his heart flutter at the feeling of your body pressed against his. The hug was short but even in those few seconds, Josh felt himself trying to take a mental picture of this moment, something he would replay over and over as he did his best to get over you.

After Josh had left, you made your way back into your cave and hid out in your room for the rest of the night. You had school first thing in the morning and yet, you found yourself tossing and turning yet again.

To cure your restless mind, you left your room and headed into the kitchen to make tea. You were never the type to drink tea but you didn’t have the patience to just lay in bed, at least this way you were occupying your mind with something else.

As the water boiled, you kept your eyes on Peter’s bedroom door, your knee bouncing up and down as if you were anticipating him opening it. You wondered how he was feeling, considering he almost died and all.

You just wished you could have the confidence to just go up and talk to him, to admit that it was him all along and that you chose him.

You poured the tea into a mug and cradled it in your hands carefully as a pair of feet made their way into the kitchen. You turned around, anticipating Peter’s face but instead, you looked up to see your dad.

“ You didn’t hear it from me but Peter is up on the roof waiting for you. Just in case if you were wondering,” Tony said as he nonchalantly dragged his finger across the countertop and peeked his head towards your tea,” aren’t you glad I made you learn CPR? I know it was part of your lifeguard course but I’m glad it came in handy.”

“ Too soon,” You sighed as you watched your dad haphazardly look through the cupboards,” and I wasn’t wondering about Peter. I’m just minding my own business and then I’m heading to bed.”

“ Minding your own business? That’s not the Y/N I know.”

“ Well, what would the Y/N you know do?” You asked as you looked down at the inside of your mug,” am I supposed to just run over to the roof and profess my love for him?”

Tony furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head,” I never said anything about love kiddo but the Y/N I know loves to talk so yeah, I expect some emotional reunion of the sort. You’ve always been known to be a bit theatrical.”

“ And who do you think I get that from?”

“ The one and only Potts,” Tony chuckled as a small smile crept onto your lips,” I don’t know what to say because I don’t think I can bring myself to give my daughter relationship advice about a guy who lives only a few doors down. If anything, it’s against my best interest but I will make this the one exception where I will intervene simply because if I don’t, no one else will. I think you should talk to Peter. He’s been through a lot and he has some things he needs to talk to you about.”

” Well he’s the one avoiding me so maybe he should come over and say it to my face,” You didn’t know why you turned so aggressive but you took a small sip of your tea to try and ease your nerves,” I know he’s been through a lot but we both have. That night of the party was just...too much for me. ”

“ You really are my daughter, always making it about you. You gotta give the kid a break.”

“ I- Dad it is all about me. That night fucking-not sorry- sucked and I don’t know what else to say. I jumped into a pool with my clothes on and I thought Peter was dead-”

“ But he’s not dead. He’s alive and breathing and waiting for you on the roof like I told you,” Tony interrupted as you exhaled slowly,” you love him, it’s a fathers worst nightmare but even I can see clear as day that you have feelings for him, are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”

You liked to think you knew yourself better than anyone else and for the most part, it was true. Tony was probably the closest to knowing who you really were as a person and yet, everything he was saying still wasn’t enough to make you less paranoid.

“ I wouldn’t say you’re wrong but I’m too scared to say out loud that you’re right,” You said as Tony rolled his eyes,” what? What did I say?”

“ You love to talk and yet, you never say enough. I don’t have the patience to stand here and listen to you beat around the bush,” Tony kneeled down towards one of the cupboards and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the shelf,” you have a problem. Let me know how things go with Peter. Or don’t. I’ll find out anyway.”

You stood there, mouth wide open as you watched Tony playfully bump into your shoulder, what a bastard,” Yeah sure! You’re the one drinking at three am but I’m the problem?”

Tony only gave you a hasty wave before turning the corner to where the elevators were, leaving you alone in the kitchen. He was right, everything he was saying made perfect sense and yet, it annoyed you on how right he was.

You had absolutely no idea how to start a conversation with Peter now that you were sure of your feelings and yet, all you wanted to do was find him and reveal everything to him. You looked between your bedroom door and the elevators. You could either go back to bed or you could talk to Peter and nervously choke on your words like a schoolgirl.

Fuck no.

You walked over to your room with your mug in one hand but before you could open the door, your legs started to move in the direction of the elevators, seemingly with a mind of their own.

Fuck it.

You stepped into the elevator and made your way up the floors until you hit the roof access. You hardly spent any of your time on the roof since you had no reason to ever be up there in the first place but once you opened the door, you were immediately taken aback.

The greenroof took up almost half of the roof itself, the addition being nothing more than a general garden area to look aesthetically pleasing from the sky. Since most of the energy needed to run the facility was either solar or space related, the greenroof was more of a private garden that didn’t account for energy efficiency.

A mixture of moss and summer grass covered the roof in a thick blanket that never grew beyond the border of the garden and at first glance, the brightly freckled flowers planted along the pathway seemed random but as you walked down the graveled path, you could tell that there was some element of planning that went along with it.

Along the pathway stood different hues of green bonsai trees that stood tall and proud in their wooden boxes. You were so focused on the bonsais that you didn’t notice Peter sitting on one of the benches about a couple of yards away.

Your breath hitched in your throat but your feet continued to crunch along the graveled pathway as you made your way over to him. From Peter’s spot underneath the patio, he could hear you walking towards him but kept his eyes looking straight forward, unable to tear them away from the cityscape in the far distance.

You hesitantly took a seat beside Peter on the wooden bench and tucked your legs back so you could rest the mug on your thigh. The lights that Peter had strung up a few weeks back had lost it’s brightness, leaving behind a faded orange glow in its place but it was just the right amount of light needed to where you could read his expression carefully.

“ How are you feeling?” You asked quietly as you attempted to get a feel for what mindset Peter was in.

“ Good, I feel good,” Peter said back, almost quieter than the volume you started out with,” how are you feeling?”

While both of your minds were racing at the thought of the other person, the thoughts suddenly felt almost too personal, the atmosphere being instantly filled with the conversations you two weren’t having.

Out of the two of you, Peter felt like he had more to share and yet, more to hide. You were still completely clueless on the following; A) Peter was cured B) You cured him because of the kiss and C) He loved you back

It seemed like a dream come true, Peter was still in love with you without the lovedust and you felt the same way towards him and yet, he was still terrified. As everything began to feel more and more real, suddenly the idea of being with you made his chest tighten up.

He never knew if he could ever admit it outloud but he was scared that you liked him back because what if after all this time, after all the trials and tribulation the two of you had gone through, what if you two still didn’t work out?

There was so much history between the two of you and he was worried that all of the heartbreak and pining wouldn’t be worth it in the end. He loved you so much to where he knew that he needed you no matter what. It only hurt him more to think that from your last argument, you couldn’t even bring yourself to admit to him that you loved him.

Now that you were here in front of him, Peter would make sure you wouldn’t leave without hearing you say it back.

As Peter tried to carefully put his thoughts in order like he had practiced, you thought back to what your dad had told you and decided that you needed to start somewhere and you had to do that by being honest.

“ I’ve been struggling these last couple of days with what happened at the party. I can’t tell how you guilty I feel for putting you through so much pain and I wish I could take it all back. I feel so guilty because it was my fault you died- did you know that? I know the paramedics talked to you but you were dead for three minutes Peter and honestly, that was one of the worst moments of my life. I mean it’s up there with what happened to my parents,” You paused as you remembered to take a breath,” I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to you.”

Peter felt his mouth dry up and for a moment, it was hard to swallow,” You didn’t kill me, you saved me. I still feel like I might be in shock from it all but I don’t blame you for anything that happened. I’m sorry I even put you through that cause I’m sure it was...a lot. But don’t ever say that you killed me, none of it was your fault.”

“ It was my fault. If it wasn’t for me and Josh-,” You stopped yourself before saying more. You didn’t want to talk about Josh, all you cared about was Peter but now, the thought was evident in Peter’s mind and he couldn’t seem to shake it out of him.

The image of you kissing Josh replayed in Peter’s head over and over again as his heart ached. Josh made things more complicated than they already were.

Peter’s biggest fear was losing you but to lose you to another guy? And yet, it still made Peter feel like he was between a rock and a hard place because Peter had only meant Josh on one occasion and it was enough to give Peter an idea that Josh didn’t have cruel intentions towards you.

Just because you loved Peter didn’t mean that you didn’t have feelings for Josh and that’s what made Peter crazy. You must’ve liked Josh enough to return the kiss right?

“ He’s a good guy, I see why you like him,” Peter finally said as he shifted awkwardly in his seat, not knowing what else to say,” he would make you happy.”

The comment shakes you in an uncomfortable way, was that supposed to make you feel better? Your annoyance was jealousy in disguise, you didn’t want to talk about Josh, you were here to tell Peter how you actually felt about him but because of how Peter was delivering it, it seemed like he was giving you an out.

“ It’s not- I don’t like Josh like that.”

“ You kissed him, I saw the whole thing. Do you just go around kissing people you supposedly don’t like?” Peter couldn’t help himself and let the words slip out so easily.

It was a low blow and the two of you both knew it.

It took every fiber of your being not to lash out at the accusation because you knew Peter had a right to be upset but you didn’t like what he was insinuating and you didn’t want the conversation to take a bad turn,” You don’t have to worry about Josh anymore. If you want me to be honest, yes, I thought there was something there but things changed. I came to talk to you because my dad said you needed to tell me something important but if you’re going to just sit here and belittle me, I’m not gonna take it. I get it, the lovedust is messing with your emotions but I’m extremely sensitive tonight, more than usual so just come back to me when you’re calm.”

You got up from your seat with a quickness but before you could step off the patio, Peter grabbed your wrist and pulled you back towards the corner of the bench.

Peter felt like such an idiot, whenever he got anxious on the fine details, he had a tendency to let the big picture escape him but it was something he knew he needed to work on while he was around you. He wasn’t going to let the conversation die just before it had started, he knew his big mouth tended to escalate conversations with you but he couldn’t let you go, not this time.

“ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m just frustrated because this feels so one-sided. I never know what you’re thinking because you never tell me anything. You always avoid answering the question but I need more,” Peter practically begged as you felt yourself get a bit aggravated,” I am being calm but I’m desperate at this point. I need to know how you feel about me, don’t try to change the subject, I need to know. Tell me how I make you feel.”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth as you pulled your hand away from Peter so you could regain your thoughts without him distracting you. You were suddenly chickening out, you had never felt so nervous in your entire life and you wanted to tell him how much you loved him. You wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear but it wasn’t easy taking a step forward when you don't know where your foot will fall.

“ This is hard for me Peter, I’m trying my best and I’m sorry if it isn’t good enough but ever since the lovedust, the dynamic is different and you’ve changed. It’s so much to get used to because of...how I feel towards you,” You said as Peter let out a frustrated breath.

He hated this feeling of going back and forth, he didn’t want to hear any of it. All he wanted was to just shake your shoulders because in his mind, you had no reason to be hesitant on opening up to him,” The lovedust didn’t change just me, it changed you too! I was vulnerable and I opened up to you, I showed you how I felt about you every second of the day but you have given me nothing!”

Nothing.

That word made your blood boil because nothing? Just because it was hard for you to let your emotions out didn’t mean Peter was getting nothing back in return. Since he was infected with the lovedust, you had been doing your best to open yourself more to him and you thought you had been doing a good job.

After all those years of Peter belittling you and tearing you down, of course, you would be a bit hesitant to let down your guard and yet, you did it anyway. It took so much to get to where you were comfortable with Peter to be vulnerable, especially when you broke down from your nightmare of your parents.

To break down and crumble in front of Peter wasn’t an accident, you could only be that vulnerable if you knew that he could help piece you back together.

“ Nothing? I gave you nothing?” You spat as you felt your eyes tear up,” I saved your life! I gave you the breath in my lungs to stop you from dying! I don’t owe you anything, I don’t need to prove shit to you!”

Peter stood up from the bench and while his heart ached from seeing you so upset, he knew that he couldn’t hold back,” Don’t pull that with me Y/N, you know you haven’t been honest with me. We both know that we can’t live without the other so don’t act like you did me a favor by saving me. Why won’t you admit it, even after everything we’ve been through, you’re still scared to just admit that you might love me!”

And just like that, you felt yourself let go.

“Of course I’m scared! I’m fucking terrified Peter! Is that what you want me to say? Do you want me to admit that me almost losing you would’ve broken me? Because you’re right! Yes, I love you!” You cried out as you took in a shaky breath,” I love you so much it hurts me and I didn’t understand how badly I loved you until I almost lost you! All I could think about when I was trying to save you was never hearing your laugh and never feeling your touch and I swear Peter, if you died, I would’ve never forgiven myself. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it but I love you. But none of it matters, you know why? Because you’re sick in the head, the lovedust is fucking with you and now it’s fucking with me!”

There it was, finally. After all of that time denying it and trying to hide your feelings to save your own sanity, you finally confessed. You had so many chances to confess that yes, it really was him all along.

When he came into your room and comforted you through your nightmare to the two of you shouting at each other in the rain, you had always loved him.

Even though Peter knew how you felt about him, this was the first time he heard it with his own ears and it was like hearing the symphony for the first time. Like your own soundtrack that swelled during the climax of the movie that was you and Peter, Peter could listen to you say it over and over again.

He didn’t care that most of your confession involved a string of swear words because, without them, it wouldn’t have been your true self. He knew once he admitted to you that he was cured, there would be no going back.

“ The lovedust is gone Y/N. When you kissed me- or saved me by giving mouth to mouth- the lovedust flushed out of my system completely. Banner did extra tests and he confirmed that I’m okay and back to normal all because of you.”

Your heart dropped to the floor as your eyes raked up Peter, testing to see if he was lying but he didn’t falter. This is what you were afraid of, confessing everything to him only to find out that he didn’t love you anymore but who would’ve thought it would be you to make him go back to normal.

And yet, a huge part of you was relieved because finally, the lovedust was gone. You didn’t need to worry about it ever screwing with you and Peter again but as you studied his expression, your chest felt heavy.

You had seemingly set up your own demise,” Oh, that’s good...I’m happy for you.”

You felt yourself take a step back but Peter reached his hand out to softly hold yours. You pulled your hand away but Peter swatted your stubbornness away and held your hand tighter. He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles and when he looked back up at you, he felt his heart swell.

“ And yet, even though the pain is gone, I feel more love for you now than I have ever felt in my entire life. I understand what they mean when they say love hurts but if anything, it heals even more because you made me feel whole again. When you saved me and the first thing I saw was you looking back at me, it was like I was given a second chance to love you the right way, the way you were meant to be loved.”

“You were right, the lovedust made me fall in love with you but ever since you cured me, it was only a matter of admitting to myself that deep down, I’ve always cared about you. It opened my eyes and showed me that I will never have to look further in finding the one for me because you are everything and more,” Peter said as you moved your eyes from the floor to his figure,” I love you. I mean it. No exceptions, no strings attached, no lovedust required.”

Right then and there, you were at a loss for everything you could possibly hold; no words, no breath, no thoughts. Any resentment you held had shattered into microscopic pieces that would dissolve once crushed between something as delicate as your fingertips because he said everything you wanted to hear.

“ You love me?” You said quietly to where Peter made you repeat yourself,” Are you serious? Do you really mean it?”

Peter nodded and softly let out an ‘ of course I do’ as he brushed his fingers lightly over your cheek. He cupped your face gently with one hand as his thumb wiped away a stray tear,” Can I finally kiss you?”

Peter’s cheeks grew red as you nodded and leaned into his touch, innocently brushing your lips against his. Peter dipped his head down to close the space between the two of you and kissed you so softly, you had to pull him closer to you to actually kiss him back.

Even though Peter was the one who asked, he felt completely unprepared kissing you back. He had imagined over and over how warm your lips would be against his but now that he was actually kissing you, he didn’t think he had enough self-control to ever stop kissing you.

You never knew a kiss could be innocent and yet so intimate but as his lips moved in perfect sync, any other logistics of the feeling went away because all you could think about was Peter. You practically melted into his touch but before you could savor the kiss, Peter pulled away breathless.

“ S-Sorry, I forgot to breathe,” Peter gushed as you smiled back up at him,” what does this mean for us now?”

You traced your finger along Peter’s wrist as you thought quietly,” I don’t know but we can figure it out together.”

Peter hummed happily before dipping his head down to kiss you and when he pulled away, he fell himself falling in love with you all over again.

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pseudofaux · 3 years

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Omg I just saw your harr breeding kink drabble and to say I am obsessed with it is an understatement... would you pretty please with a cherry onto write other one but with Leonardo from Ikevamp please????❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for your kind words about the Harr one, please enjoy this Leo! Because he’s LEO, with those LEO hangups (bless him), this turned out a little more on the romantic side, but I think it’s got some of the frenzy and intention that make breeding kink so hot. Lots and lots of soft banter and tender passion, too. I really hope it will work for you!

(Requests are closed, readers, but there are a lot to be filled in May and likely June, too! Feel free to follow along or just check in and enjoy as many as you like. A masterlist will go up when they are all completed.)

The way his eyes slowly close as he pushes into her reminds her of the astrolabe he likes to tinker with, the slender glow of gold moving beyond the reach of light. He mutters the name of a saint when he bottoms out and comes back down to her mouth.

He’s relentless today. As if it must happen on this first try. It made her laugh when they fell onto the bed together, but she can’t laugh now, not with his tongue swiping those wide stripes up either side of her while he fucks her open with his thumbs.

“Rumorosa,” he chides approvingly, mouth flat against her. “Let it all out. Don’t hold anything back.”

Like she could!

He’s got her spread shamelessly wide, but Leonardo makes her feel so treasured and safe that there she is, kind of loving this. Definitely loving his tongue. He feels the same way all his bouquets of meadow and cobblestone flowers do against her cheek, the softest and most pleasurable touch nature can provide.

“Got to get you ready, cara,” he says, and then gives her another wide lick, straight up and lasting. When he’s finally done with that agonizing holdout over her clit, he asks “You think you’re ready?”

She hums out an mmmmm so long it puts his lick to shame. He likes that enough to laugh. He’s laughing so much about all of this, so grateful and joyful, and she loves to see him be so happy. It polishes him beautifully and makes him shine, like he is shaking off his own dust. When he shrugged off his shirt earlier she swore his shoulders were glowing as he revealed them.

“I love you,” she whispers, feeling a bit small in the face of all these emotions, all this love. All this hope. He stills as soon as he processes her words, tongue against her again, one thumb just about to escape her body.

“I’d guessed that,” he says warmly, and gives her a tender kiss instead of the sensual lick she expected. “No one has ever been so generous, you know, this probably isn’t good for you.”

She can hear how he tries to make it a joke, and she puts her hands in his hair and tugs to correct him. “This is what we both want,” she reminds him. “Don’t you dare use that mind to be shifty now. Love me.” Quieter, she adds “Give me a baby, you fool.”

His hair is cloud soft and cat sleek against her thighs as he groans and kisses her firmly against her slit. His face must be a mess, but that’s nothing new.

“Baby, huh?” he says when he seems to have his composure back. She swears she can hear how his mouth is wet and his voice is a touch more gravelly than usual. “Cara mia wants a baby?” He’s using his elbows and knees to come up either side of her body on the tiny bed in his room. They’ve been through so much here, this piece of furniture has seen so many of their tears and trembles and confessions. Rarely has he been so gloriously naked as he is now. She loves how much of him she can feel. He is so perfectly warm and good to touch, she wants to grab him everywhere.

“I want your baby,” she says pointedly, rubbing her thighs together. He licked up a lot of her, but smeared just as much of her arousal around like some kind of conception spell. Leonardo has a touch of the mystic in him about all of this.

“I want to give it to you,” he growls as his face reaches hers. His palms slide along the insides of her hands and keep them on the mattress while he tilts her chin up with his nose so he can kiss her. “Damn, I want to give it to you,” he breathes against her lips. And then he grinds against her, shameless, and puts his tongue in her mouth just to tease her with what he’s not putting inside her.

She doesn’t know her own taste without the feel and flavor of his tongue anymore. He has made her very, very used to him. Now she gets a latent note of the sweetness of his cigarillos, like a memory under the flavor of her in his mouth. She yanks one hand free so she can slide it along his naked back in the same slow way he is kissing her. Serves him right.

He nips at her bottom lip so gently it gives her goosebumps from the heart-swelling tenderness. The kindness in this man is boundless. He moves to her ear so his whisper hits her like a velvet-wrapped sledge. “You sure about this here?” he asks. “Not somewhere... fancier?”

She knows he’s not asking about their location at all. “Do you want to stop?” she asks smugly. And he laughs, because these days they are used to the way she puts him on the right track.

“I can’t see why you’d think I am that cruel to you,” he murmurs, dragging the tip of that damn tongue up her throat in a powerful line of want that feels like it goes down beyond her toes. They are grinding against each other but it’s still slow, just their bodies finding the soft places where they give, where they can rest in each other.

“Hurry up before I get cruel,” she warns him, pressing a few of her nails into the swell of his back. It’s rare for a person to get close enough to a vampire to learn how supple their skin is, even if they chain smoke and don’t look after themselves well and occasionally drink paint water. The suppleness is real though, and the give of him under her nails makes them moan together.

“I want to call you a cruel mother, but I can’t yet.” He is more sober but still smiling.

“Maybe you can in a year,” she offers, releasing the press so she can stroke him with her nails instead. Light scratches, to soothe his nerves. His body moves into the touch like it always does. Catlike, sensual man.

“A mother, maybe,” he says, shifting his hips between hers, “But never cruel.”

His cock is so strong he doesn’t have to take himself in hand. He squeezes the hand of hers that he’s holding and uses his other to take her by the chin as he leans back slightly and fits himself against the space where he must go, if they’re going to do this. “You’re sure,” he says, a statement with some suspicion, but not a question.

She holds his gaze and nods. His eyes narrow but she sees the brilliant, timeless gold of them. “Do it,” she whispers. She doesn’t want to dare him but she has to show him her confidence or his might be lost, even in this, this thing he wants so very much. So she adds, challenge as light as her touch, “Give me a baby.”

She’s tempted to tease him again, but this is a very special moment so she saves the feeling for a rainy day. This day is too beautiful and golden for it, his kiss to precious and profound. She does say, voice less sound than breath, “That’s it.”

His breath is a hiss, and he flexes inside her like a pulse of strength-- less than when he does it on purpose. “I know ‘that’s it,’ signora, you need me to show you?”

“That’s what I’m waiting for,” she tells him, unable to help herself when he literally asks for it. He teases her so much he definitely deserves this, and she’s hoping the banter will keep his mood clear of melancholy.

He makes some sound between a grunt and a sigh, with all the self-assurance of a more articulate declaration, and pulls his hips back.

“You want me to give it to you?” he murmurs. His voice is so low she tightens around his tip and wishes she were tightening around more of him. So she says yes, because she does want that. And she knows he does, too, he’s just scared of what he wants most.

Another of those grunt-sighs. “Guess I better, then,” he says, and slides home again. He’s slow about it, and he keeps his mouth right above hers so every way her lips tremble around her wordless cry make them move against him. “Better fill you up in every way, yeah?” He grinds against her, making her feel the deep, pleasurable fullness. He’s so perfect inside, she loves this man and his heart and his mind and everything that he is, but god, his cock in her is--

Leonardo’s groan is loud, much louder than usual, and then his voice is softer. “Should just be fucking you all the time anyway,” he mumbles. “This body was made to make children, you feel like heaven.”

It’s not as smooth as his usual lines, but he says it so openly she can feel her face getting hot. She won’t even try to say anything, she just squeezes his hand and presses her palm into his back and begs him with her body to please, please do it already.

And then he starts. Slow and deep, but every quality rising with the might of the sun itself. He uses his strength for once, so much that the only laziness is his warm voice between kisses.

“Fucking you,” he murmurs. “Putting a child in you.”

“Yes,” she hisses. He’s dragging himself along her top wall, using his strength to press up while he’s inside and make her legs and voice and everything about her feel like she is quaking. She is pushing her hips up to meet him, craving that carnal bump inside when he’s as deep as he can go, craving everything he’s going to give her.

Then he begins to pick up speed, not so fast she can’t keep up at all but much, much faster. He’s scooped his free hand under the back of her head to keep her in place for kisses, and he’s certainly giving her those, lots of kisses and lots of words. They pepper all the movements, spicy and tenderly dreamy all at once.

“This is going to change everything,” he whispers. “You’ll be full of me for months and then there will be a child. Carina piccola,” he says thickly. “You want a girl to give us trouble?”

She moans. There is no preference in her mind beyond their family growing. She just wants to be with him and be happy together.

He lowers his voice to a whisper again. “Maybe we should have more than one, you think?”

...She does now. All that work he did on her made her so ready for him. “Whatever you want,” she begs, before he can start talking again. He shushes her and very gently pulls at the hair behind her head.

“You gonna let me have this?”

“Yes,” she hisses again as he cradles her scalp once more. She’s not sure if he is testing her or teasing her with all the sought reassurances.

“Then I’m gonna take it,” he promises solemnly. He kisses her and grinds once more, so forcefully that the little bedframe-- well made, but only wood, after all-- creaks. “Not a good enough man not to,” he chuckles. She tries to shush him but he’s already sucking at her neck at that weak spot where the muscle joins her jaw, so she’s quickly sighing out little panting moans over how well he knows her, so she is too occupied to say anything.

Meanwhile he keeps talking. “Gonna fill you until you leak,” he tells her as he pulls back. “Until it splashes out of you, messy girl. Until there’s no chance your womb will be empty.” His thrusts are smooth and they are strong. Dependable. She believes him and she cries out his name even though what she’s calling out for is what he’s making her want.

He only feels good but she swears his strength is moving in her hard enough to scrape her insides. Then his teeth do scrape her, that paper-thin trail of fiery bliss flaring bright and making her wail again as he keeps right on fucking her. “Crying like a baby, now?” he teases, but the words are thick. He’s already thinking about late nights of exhaustion and the way they’ll endure. She can hear the way he’s half with her, pressing her into his mattress, and half in his dreams, pressing kisses to a precious newborn’s tiny fists.

“You’re the only woman,” he tells her passionately, “That I have ever--” he gulps.

She squeezes him again. She already knows this. “Stop holding back,” she whispers.

He groans twice, grips her hand so hard she feels the muscles of his palm, and then pushes himself so far into her that she feels the heat of the sheets under her and the warning of the headboard.

“Alright,” he mutters. “I’ll be good to you, I promise. So good, for this gift, both of you.” He is kissing her all along her throat like he’s trying to soothe the sweet burn he put there with his teeth. One day, she thinks. Soon. You’ll put your fangs in, Leonardo da Vinci. She keeps the thought as long as she can before his purposeful fucking lovingly batters it out of her brain like a freed butterfly.

“You gonna take what I give you?” he hisses, bringing her back into the moment. “Every drop, cara mia? Take it in. Take it. And then I’m gonna fold you up after this and do it all over again.”

His words shoot through her like wine on an empty stomach. That is exactly what she wants, for him to run after this purpose with all the single-mindedness his genius allows them. She swears beside his ear, lustful and permissive.

“Yeah? You like that, avida? Maybe I’ll turn you over when I’m done and make it three times to be safe and sure.”

There is nothing safe about the way her body shudders at the thought. From behind he always ruins her, especially when she’s already swollen and blissed out from all the ways he has touched her. She can imagine the way his cum will dribble out of her, lazy as he is, and the way he’ll look close and blow a little breath on her weeping slit just to mess with her for not keeping it inside.

Because he is Leonardo, or perhaps because he’s the devil, he slows. He brings the hand he’s clasping to his mouth to kiss, and then lets it go and slips the hand down and around her body, until he’s got her by the back. He’s wrapped around her, the other hand still firm at the back of her head, this new one angling her hips up just a little more for him.

“Almost,” he grits out, and though he may be the devil she wishes she could bless him when he speeds back up without further comment. The way he has tilted her makes her yelp, the sound so vulnerable and silly she would cringe if she were not so protected by the man who brought it out of her.

But he did bring it out of her, so he laughs, because he loves to put her offguard. “Sweet, so sweet, god, cara--moan for me while I make you a mother,” he tells.

She can feel how his arm is sweaty behind her, strong and slippery against her back. He’s got her right where he wants her, she knows she is mostly against the bed but it feels like he is bending over her womb itself, massive and powerful and undeniable. Good thing she doesn’t want to deny him. She moans, and the sound comes from low in her, like there is a line in her body and one side of it is where he’s filling her up and the other is where she breathes. It’s low and erotic, unmistakably the sound of a woman being loved.

He snarls-- she is so keyed up it is sweet in her ears-- and holds her closer. His thrusts are shorter because he can’t push her any farther down and he never wants to leave her body when he’s close.

“I can’t wait to see you swell,” he hisses. “You’re going to look like a goddess. You feeling fertile, cara?”

Another moan comes out of her like he yanked it by the root. She didn’t think she could be any more aroused. He pounces on what she likes. “Yeah, fertile,” he says with a smirk. “So open up for me.”

She tries, but he’s got her pinned with his hips and he’s stretching her so intensely that movement is confusing.

“Wider,” he demands.

All she wants to focus on is how close he is, how near they both are to the moment when it happens. But she does manage to tense her legs wider instead of tighter. Or so she hopes. really, all she can think of is how rigid he’s gone and how closely together they are pressed, like a baby can be made by fusion.

“Forza,” he mutters, “Let me in deep, forza. I want this to go straight up into you.”

“It will,” she insists, feeling like she is going to sob.

He tsks and sucks in breath that sounds like a growl, it is so loud. The one that comes out definitely is. “Never forget you were first,” he tells her. She can hear the way he’s losing himself even as he keeps the rhythm of rocking their hips back and forth together. “Merda--” he groans and then clamps his mouth shut and presses it against the side of her neck until she can feel her own pulse beating back against the contact. It’s as fast as the heat streaming out into her in spurts. She can feel each one. They feel thick inside her, like something that brings life ought to feel.

Leonardo is breathing hard and has opened his mouth to say her name with great wonder. She feels like she is preening as he kisses her throat. Maybe there’s something to be said for being a fertility goddess when the time is right.

He gently, gently presses against her as he kisses her again. Deep kisses, like he wants to wind their souls together. She wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

“Do you think it worked?” he whispers. His voice has so much half-hidden hope in it she feels the prick of tears at the outer corner of each eye.

“I hope so,” she tells him. Her hand never left his back, so she drifts it up into the sweaty shagginess of his hair and pulls his lips back to hers. “I can’t wait to find out,” she adds. She gets goosebumps when she says it, so she is smiling when they kiss and so is he, two curves meeting like the sea and the shore.

Leonardo stays inside her. She thinks he really does want to somehow be woven together. He keeps kissing her, massaging the back of her head where he’s held her this whole time, murmuring how alluring she is. His hardness in her is proof of his words.

“Wanna have you again,” he tells her between kisses. “Now. Just in case.”

“Well then don’t hold anything back,” she whispers, putting her other arm around him. His grin above her is dark and beautiful, so wide she can see the point of one fang and how he caresses it with his tongue. He does the same thing when someone brings him a lock with no key, or any other challenge.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he promises. “Too many other dreams.”

And then he does his best to make them come true.

#ikevamp fanfiction #ikevam fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #ikevam fanfic #ikevamp leo #ikevam leo #pseu slings

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pterodactylterrace · 3 years

Text

Beautiful

Title: Beautiful

Chapter: 1/1

Summary: I'll take just a moment with you, rather than a lifetime without.

Rating: T

Warnings: Drinking, fluff, death, pregnancy. Definitely not my greatest work, but it makes me feel some kinda way, so I thought I’d share anyway.

When his Ma used to tell him about when she first met his Pop, Syverson always thought it was a dramatic, romanticized version of events. How could you possibly know someone is right for you the second you meet them? You need time to get to know them, to see if you can tolerate living with all the fucked up parts of them before you decide they're the one you'll stick with for the rest of your life.

Now though, his blue eyes catching on a pair of green ones from across the bar, Syverson was beginning to think she may have been onto something. Something about that girl felt... right. A little voice in the back of his mind told him 'yup, she's the one we're gonna marry'.

Being a little old fashioned, he'd asked her for a dance, clumsily moving to some sort of made up rhythm that most definitely wasn't the song that was playing. Her laugh. Oh God her laugh. He swore his heart beat to the sound of her laughter, so pure and carefree. It was a sound he wanted to keep hearing for as long as he could.

He'd spent most of his night with her after that. They shared many rounds and found themselves lost in conversation. Before either one knew it, it was last call. Syverson offered to walk her home, willing to do almost anything to prolong his time with her. After all, he never knew when he would see her again.

They had barely gotten out of the bar when she'd stumbled off to the bushes, violently throwing up the last several rounds of drinks. Syverson dutifully held her long brunette strands from her face, his large hand gently rubbing her back, his callouses catching on the soft material of her dress.

In spite of that, he'd still managed to get her number. He didn't bother waiting the 'required' three days before calling. Games were for boys, and he wasn't about to waste time he could be spending with her. They had their first official date later on that week. Syverson broke out his 'good' shirt and everything, no matter how ridiculous he felt in it. Dress clothes and Syverson just didn't mix, but he couldn't just take a pretty girl like her out wearing one of his usual t-shirts.

She'd been delighted by the flowers he'd bought her on their first date. Surprised when he got more for their second, and downright shocked when he continued the tradition for their third. For some reason, he absolutely refused to show up at her door without flowers for her. The first one had been from a store. She could tell from the cellophane wrapping. The other two, she suspected he picked himself. The image of such a burly man delicately trying to pick flowers was both silly, and endearing.

She'd been reluctant when Syverson mentioned wanting to introduce her to his parents. His meeting with hers had gone off without a hitch, her father commandeering him to the study for most of the night, luring him in with scotch, and promises of framed pictures from when she was growing up. The two men were fast friends, and her mother was delighted with how well mannered he was. She just wasn't sure what she would do if his mother didn't like him. He was definitely a mama's boy, though he'd probably kill any man that dared to say that to his face.

He'd reassured her over and over that she was going to love her. He was almost desperate for the two most important women in his life to like each other. Thankfully, they had hit it off almost as well as Syverson had with her father. He was almost a little jealous (fine, he was definitely a lot jealous) when his mother offered her the spatula to lick when they were making cookies. He was the chief cookie dough spoon licker, and he had a t-shirt form his childhood that proved it. If it meant they liked each other, however, Syverson was willing to relinquish his title. This time.

He was gobsmacked when his mother handed him a pillow and a spare blanket that night, shooing him off toward the couch. It only took one stern, raised eyebrow from his mother to keep him from protesting. He knew she expected him to wait for marriage. She also knew that he hadn't. He was well aware she knew of that fact as well, but that didn't mean had to put up with it under her roof. She had raised him to be a gentleman, after all.

The pair of them found a beautiful home out in the country, a ton of property for kids to play on and for Aika to run freely. There were even a few apple trees in the far back of the property. That's where they got married, under those trees, who's fruit was the same color as her eyes. It took a few years of work to turn it into their dream home, but it was their labor of love. They had ripped the inside down to studs and rebuilt everything just how they wanted it. Syverson put in a fence around the property, a project that took over a year to complete.

It was just a week after they had finally finished the last of their renovations that her water broke, all over the brand new tile floor in the kitchen. It was also two months before her due date. Syverson had done his best to stay calm for her. He was just as terrified as she was, but she needed him to be strong. The most terrifying moment of his life was when she gave her final push and the doctor began wiping off the baby. The silence was like a knife to the heart. A team of people were rushed in and began working on the tiny infant.

"What's going on?" She had whispered, turning tearful eyes up to her husband, her heart dropping more and more with every passing second. Syverson had slid around the bed, peering over the nurses heads at the little girl that had just been brought into the world. They were sucking out her nose and mouth, vigorously rubbing her with a towel, trying to get her to take a breath.

His world started spinning again when he heard her first tiny cries, steadily growing louder and louder as she made her unhappiness known. He was sure to wipe the tears from his eyes before he turned to his wife, carefully taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. "She's ok. She's ok."

Walking his daughter down the aisle was the hardest thing he ever had to do. He was a good guy, sure enough. He treated his baby right. That didn't make it any easier to give her away to her new life. That day was only the second time his wife had seen Syverson cry.

He could tell he was getting older, and that the years hadn't been kind. His knees clicked whenever he moved, his back was in constant pain, and he developed tremors in his arms. His wife had aged beautifully, however. The lines around her bright green eyes only underlined their beauty, and grey had been threaded gracefully through her hair. Now, though, was the most difficult time of his life. They had found the cause of the tremors. A tumor, deep in his brain, and an aggressively growing one at that. The risk of operating on someone his age was too high. It was getting closer and closer to his time to go, and he never felt so powerless in his life. All he had ever been able to promise his wife before was that he would be there for her. What could he tell her now? He was leaving her all one. There wasn't going to be anyone at home to take care of her anymore.

Her small, delicate hand found it's way into his palm, still rough even after all the years. She didn't want him to go, but they both knew his time was coming. "Don't cry for me, darling. I had a good life. The Lord blessed me with a little girl and a beautiful wife. I promise, I'll see you again one day."

"Where's Teddy?" The most heart wrenching words that had ever left her mother's mouth. Her mind had started to go in the years following her father's passing, and lately she'd been forgetting more and more. Telling her mother that her father had passed years ago was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. She watched her mother break all over again. She vowed to never tell her again. Every time after that she had told her mother "he's in the garden".

"Teddy." Her mother's weak voice broke through the monotonous beep of the monitor.

"He's in the garden, Mama."

"Teddy." She repeated, her eyes fixed just beyond her daughter's face.

"I told you I'd see you again, darling. What do you say we go home, beautiful?"

Taglist: @Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x ofc #sand castle #sand castle fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #teddy syverson

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spvce-cowboy · 3 years

Text

drivers license

francisco morales x f!reader - oneshot

rating: mature

3.1k words

warnings: drug/alcohol use, reader is a dealer, age gap, so much YEARNING!!!

summary: a surprise visit from an old friend

a/n: 100 follower celebration!! partially inspired by this post but also the fact that i have been sing-screaming “drivers license” for oh about four days straight now. thank you guys so so much for all the support so far ! 💕

A fist slamming against your front door wakes you from a dreamless sleep.

You push yourself off your mattress, blearily checking the time on your phone and cursing under your breath when you see that it’s almost 3am. You sit up all the way, blinking as you wait to see if what woke you up was something you’d imagined or if it were real.

It’s real. It starts again after a second, three sharp raps against the door, followed by some kind of muffled talking. Your heart rate picks up in your chest, you grab the baseball bat you have leaned against the wall as you reach your apartment door. Squeezing one eye shut, you look through the peephole.

The good thing is that it definitely isn’t the cops. You take a relieved breath, leaning away from the door.

The bad thing is that whoever is knocking is hunched on his knees, just outside of the peephole’s line of sight, so you have absolutely no idea who the fuck it is.

“Please open the door,” the man’s voice begs from the other side of the door. You’re about to yell at him to fuck off, but he interrupts you before you can even open your mouth. “Little flower, it’s me, please.”

The nickname makes your heart go to your throat. The bat in your hands falls to the floor.

You rub a hand over your eyes, huffing an exhale in a vague attempt to prevent your heart from ricocheting against your ribs. It doesn’t work. Because as soon as he says it, as soon as you realize who it is, it brings everything back with him.

A set of sturdy, tanned fingers cupped against the knuckles of your grandfather’s hand, the voice went low in a warm but respectful greeting. You didn’t realize how gnarled your old man’s hands had gotten until you had someone else’s to compare them to. You looked back down at the crumpled up dollar bills you’d just been handed, one of them still rolled. Turning to find your bag on the coatrack, you stuff the money in your back pocket.

“My little flower, this is a good one,” your grandfather told you with a small hum that signifies whatever he just said must be set in stone. You hear the sound of him heavily patting the hand cupped over his own in that way he does when he appreciates the presence of something. “He has a decent head on his shoulders, no?”

“Little flower?” You can hear the boyish smile in that all too familiar voice before you even turn back around. “That suits you well, I think. Florita. I like that.”

“Christ, Frankie, what are you doing here?” You rest your head against the doorframe, heart sinking in your chest. You don’t open the door, to protect him or yourself you don’t know.

“I need—”

“You’ve got a kid now, Frankie. I told you I’m not going to sell to you anymore.”

“Ever the moralist,” the bite to his words is so uncharacteristic you can’t help but flinch. He seems to realize this, too. His apology is nearly immediate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You’re right. I… It’s not…”

You swallow, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around yourself for some bare semblance of comfort. “Please go,” your voice is so quiet you’re not sure he can hear you through the layer of wood separating the two of you. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Long enough that you nearly think he’s left. Long enough that you don’t know why you’re still standing at the door and not back in bed.

And Frankie says your name, voice cracking. Your actual name. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it come off his lips you can’t help sink into the door.

A held breath leaves you in a shuddering sigh. Your shaking hands open the door.

The man who spills onto the ground before you is a stranger, yet, heartbreakingly, just as he had been when you first met him. Messy hair, worn blue jeans, gray button-down stretching over the perfect expanse of his back. All that is missing this time around is that lazy smile, that easy, Hey, darling.

In a bar. Right when your grandfather started getting sick.

“Eighty,” you said without him having to continue his sentence beyond his syrupy greeting, eyes trained on the shelves of liquor in front of you instead of having to meet his gaze.

He copped an eighth, tucking the little baggie in a pocket on the inside of his jacket. You went back to your drink, angling your body away from him again and expecting him to return to his table of friends. But then the knuckles of his hand nudged the side of you elbow. He gestured to your beer, the neck of the bottle clasped between your thumb and the hook of your middle and index fingers.

“Lemme buy you your next one, yeah?” He had a hunched lean to his posture, in that way that men do when they want you to feel like you’re the only person in the room. You were mad that it worked. He extended a hand. “Frankie Morales.”

The truth of it was that the two of you became friends, after that. Nothing more. Regardless, it was too close for you to get to someone you dealt to, but you were so lonely at that point in your life—taking care of the old man by day, GED classes at night--that meeting Frankie was a small blessing. Nothing ever happened between you two but God you wish it did.

To describe what you felt towards him as a crush didn’t really cut it, but you were fine with friends. Being completely fair, he was definitely one to send mixed signals—Christ, your weekly tradition of driving to an overlook to split an order of fries and milkshakes on the hood of his truck just about screamed every romcom you were raised on. But despite the occasional prolonged touch, the hand he would place on the small of your back to move you out of the way or guide you forward, nothing happened.

You dealt with it. Tried to be supportive as possible when he met his girl. Frankie broke the news that she was pregnant. The two of you saw each other less and less frequently. Sometimes he would call to catch up. Eventually, you stopped answering when he did. Your grandfather died. You got into a local art school.

It was sad how quietly it all faded. You didn’t know it could, but it did.

And now here he is, literally crumpled at your feet.

Frankie messily pulls himself up off the ground and onto his knees. He reeks of booze and old cigarettes. You freeze as his hands wrap over your hips, as he presses his face into your stomach and murmurs an incoherent apology—for what, you’re not exactly sure.

And when you finally processing what’s happening, what you had begged the universe for years, you can’t help yourself. Your card your fingers through his hair, gritting your teeth and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Frankie,” it’s a warning. It’s a reminder. “You’re drunk. You need to go home. Your girlfriend--”

“She left a week ago,” he speaks into the fabric covering your belly. The words burst forwards as if not even he was expecting to say them. It’s a confession. His hands flex from where they hold onto you. “She’s gone.” Your heart drops to your gut, your chest aching. “I need… Just for the night I… Little flower, the house is so empty.”

You keep petting back his hair until his breathing quiets. He keeps holding onto you, even then. The two of you stay like that for a long time.

“Why don’t,” your voice comes out too shaky. Too unsure of itself. You clear your throat and try again. “Why don’t you take a shower, I’ll get you some water and we can sober you up a bit. Okay?”

He tilts his face up at you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in well over a year.

And he hasn’t changed. It’s all there—the soft mess of shaggy hair, dark but kind eyes, the beloved hook of his nose.

One sun-sick evening, you rode your bike to the beach just to get out of the apartment. You need somewhere to sit and think for a while, just until your head feels more clear. There’s enough of a chill in the air that you have to throw on a jacket, it’s nice. It’s like you can feel the wind moving through you. Past you.

When you arrived at the beach, you got off your bike, leaning it against your hip as you scoped out a spot to sit in the sand. You were about to wheel it over to the rack when--

Someone pinched your elbow in greeting. Their steps were so quiet you didn’t even register their approach. It, obviously, startled you, and your hand immediately flew to the keychain in your back pocket. The knife you had attached to it.

When you turned, and it was Frankie’s familiar face, his hands raised in joking surrender.

In that light, with the sun still flirting with the horizon, it rendered his face into shapes and shadows you had only previously seen in the old oil paintings of long-dead greats. You thought it was in the deep bourbon of his eyes, soft when illuminated by a tangerine sky. It was him. All of him. Slightly breathless, hair ruffled by the wind.

“Hey, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he sounded genuinely apologetic. You released a relieved huff of air.

“Fucking Christ, Frankie. A little warning would be nice next time.”

“Did you bike the whole way here? From the apartment?” He asked, there was a tinge of concern to his voice.

You shrugged, trying to hide your embarrassment by lowering your kickstand with the heel of you boot. “It’s not that far.”

“Don’t you have a car?”

“Can’t drive,” you wrinkle your nose. “Never needed to.”

He looked you for a moment, if you didn’t know any better you’d say critically.

“I was just about to get something to eat, if you wanna join me,” he tucked his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “There’s this overlook nearby that has a way better view of all of this.” He motions to the ocean with the tilt of his head. “I can drive us there.”

You regarded him as he spoke, cautiously looking him up and down. And you nodded, smiling slightly. He smiled back, it was big and crooked. It made something in the pit of your belly feel warm.

You step away, holding out your hand to help him to his feet. He complies, stumbling slightly and rubbing his hand over his face as he does so. He disappears down the hall without having to ask where the bathroom is.

Sighing, you go back into your room, pulling out a shirt and a pair of oversized sweatpants for him to change into. You knock on the bathroom door on your way to the kitchen. The apartment’s walls are so thin you can hear the hiss of the shower from all the way down the hall.

“Come in,” Frankie’s voice barely rises above the sound.

You crack the door open, keeping your eyes trained to the floor as you place the folded clothes on the sink’s counter.

“Here’s something for you to change into,” you tell him. He thanks you, the shower turning off right as you close the door behind you. You walk back down the hall and into the living room, making two glasses of water before settling on your couch.

Once, after a night out, the two of you were too drunk and too broke to afford separate taxis home. He proposed going back to his house, split the cost, grab a cab for you once it wasn’t so late and the rates went down.

You agreed, as you did anytime he extended the offer to spend time there. There was something about the quiet, tucked-in nature of the suburbs that was so novel to you. So calming.

The two of you settled on the couch. Feeling bold, you lay your head in his lap and kicked your socked feet up on the opposite armrest as you describe to him the gallery opening you’d snuck into. How you successfully schmoozed to the owner as well as one of the artists.

He asked you if you had heard back from any of the scholarships you’d applied to. You hadn’t, but you’d only just submitted the applications, so it would be at least a few months wait.

You tell him your dreams of becoming an artist. A real one. He already knew that, but you really tell him this time, all the details you usually keep to yourself, too special to you to have the courage to voice aloud. The fantasy of moving out into the mountains, getting a cabin just big enough for a hotplate and a bed and a studio. You’ve lived and breathed LA for your entire life and you were tired of the city. Tired of every street corner baked with the memories of high school and the listless years that followed, of the small humiliations you had to succumb to in order to survive.

Frankie listened and nodded enthusiastically at all the right parts. It was only then that you realized his hands smoothed over the top of your scalp as you talked. You let it continue, it felt too nice not to.

He told you that you should, and if you needed help finding the money he could always--

You cut him off before he could finish the thought, shaking your head. Responsibilities came first, you had people who needed you. A degree to finish. Savings to maintain. You asked him about the new girl he’d been seeing and he eagerly launches into a story about a different, wild night out. You smile and laugh throughout the whole thing, trying to ignore the pang it gives you when he describes the dress she was wearing. He fingers continued to brush over the crown of your head as he talked.

You fell asleep there, on his lap. You woke up before the sun rose, hot and sweaty and still a little drunk from the vodka Redbulls that never agreed well with your heart.

It took you a second to realize you were in Frankie’s bed, alone. When you padded back into the living room, he was passed out on the couch, a throw blanket wrapped around his shoulders, using his arm as a pillow.

You left after helping yourself to a shower, texting him a sarcastic good luck with that hangover. You’re about to call a taxi home but something stopped you. You thought it might be the way the sun was barely breaking over the cusp of the smoggy horizon, the sky reduced to pale shades of violet with the coming dawn.

The quiet neighborhood Frankie lived in is all the more beautiful, like this. Subdued, empty, houses in winding but even rows that scale up the mountainside like sets of bad teeth. You decided to walk, just until the sun got a little brighter. Until the people started to shake themselves awake for a new day.

You got a text from him as you were making breakfast, back at your apartment by then. Thanks. Hope you slept well, little flower. Something about the small missive kept you smiling the whole day after.

You mess with your phone until Frankie returns.

“I’m sorry, for showing up like this,” Frankie says as he hovers over the living room’s threshold. The clothes you leant him fit well enough, only slightly oversized on his frame as opposed to how they generously drape off of you. He holds his towel in his hands, looking down at it instead of you. “I honestly don’t have an excuse and you… you shouldn’t accept any. But I thought I should still tell you.”

You look at him for an extended beat, knowing he’s being honest. You’re at a genuine loss as to how to handle the situation.

“We can deal with it later,” you settle with that. It sounds good enough to you, and when he finally meets your eyes again he looks a little relieved. You nod you head towards the glass of water you placed on the coffee table, he takes your lead and settles on the opposite side of the couch, leaning over to take his own glass.

“So um… how are you?” He asks you earnestly, angling his body towards you.

“Okay,” you take a sip of water, trying to keep it casual. “Cleaning up my act a bit, you know? Going to school, picking up jobs here and there. Trying to figure out what I want to do. Oh! I uh… I learned how to drive--impressive I know.”

“The city flower herself, operating a vehicle?” His face breaks into a familiar, goofy smile you can’t help but reciprocate. “I’ll add every pedestrian in LA to my prayers.”

“You should,” you shake your head as you laugh, leaning into your corner of the couch and pulling your knees up to your chest. You finally relax, giving yourself the small allowance of settling into the comfort that inevitably comes with his presence.

And it really is just as easy as it always has been between the two of you. The conversation naturally ebbs and flows, neither of you bother to broach the heavier stuff. For now, just this it’s enough.

It’s enough to see the spark in his eyes when he tells you about his daughter, how bright she is, how much trouble she gets into—just like her dad. It’s enough to hear about his friends, all those names and backstories that you still vividly remember. It’s enough to bask in the feeling of how he leans into you with laughter, a hand lingering on your knee for seconds longer than it probably should have, as he always tends to do.

It’s enough to see him grin when you tell him about the scholarships you got, how weird it felt being the oldest person in all your classes, even if it was only by a handful of years. He doesn’t ask how your grandfather is, the living room being cleared of all the heart monitors and breathing machines is enough to answer that question. You’re grateful he doesn’t. You’re not sure you’d be able to keep a brave face if he did.

You don’t want time to pass. You want to stay here, with him, like this, in that perpetual state of catching up, in that breathless deluge that has the not-so-subtle undercurrent of this is what has happened since you left. I wish you would have been there. But I am so happy you are here now.

When you can no longer stifle your yawns, you stand to refill your glass of water, speaking on your walk over to the sink.

“I’d love to keep talking but I honestly don’t think I can keep my eyes open much longer,” you tell him as you turn the tap off. “I can make up the couch for you, if you’d like.”

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you turn to look back at him. He’s staring at you from where he is seated, eyes dark with something that isn’t just from the low light of the living room.

“What?” You ask after a few more seconds of him not responding. He looks away from you, shaking his head.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Your eyes search his for a moment, positive that that was not at all what he was turning over in his head during those few seconds of silence. You’re too tired to press, so you gather a spare set of sheets for him. He stands when you come back into the living room, holding out his arms to take them from you. You wave him away, setting up the pull-out bed yourself. You’d grown up sleeping on this thing, tucking the fitted sheet into the corners was always tricky, and he didn’t know where the bolts of the couch’s frame would cut the shit out of his hands if he wasn’t careful.

Throwing a pillow down, you turn back to Frankie. He’s standing closer to you, now. You have to tilt your head up slightly to meet his eyes.

“All set,” you tell him. He nods, eyes searching your face for a moment. Your brow furrows. “Frankie, you’re being weird. Stop it.”

His chuckle breaks the tension.

“Sorry—I’ve been saying that a lot tonight, haven’t I?” He takes a deep breath. You’re smiling again, about to agree with him, and without warning his hand is comes up to cup the side of your face. You still, lips parted in an unasked question. “Thank you, little flower,” his voice goes rough again, as it had when you were speaking to each other through the door. “I really mean it.”

Frankie’s hand drops when you nod, lips pressed together. He sits back down on the pull-out. You wish him goodnight quietly and return to your room.

Leaving your bedroom door cracked open, you climb back into bed. With everything in you, you hope he’s still there when you wake. He will be.

#francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco catfish morales #reader insert #triple frontier #angst #hurt/comfort

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waiting4inspiration · 3 years

Text

Hefna XIII: Forsjá

Summary: Estadir returns, grateful that you are unharmed but disheartened that he lost most of his people.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of murder, unrequited love, mentions of war, metions of rituals

Word Count: 1,675

Hefna Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist

A woman said to be Ubbe’s wife, Torvi, gave you and your people shelter when your small number arrived at the gates of Kattegat. The Great Hall is filled with weeping women, mourning men, and scared children that have seen more than they should have. You can only stare at him with a disheartened gaze as you grip the furs around your shoulders tightly.

“You must drink something,” Torvi says as she sits beside you and holds out a cup of water to you. “It will be good for you.”

But you shake your head and glance down at your hands as you bite your lower lip. “My people take preference before me,” you weakly say, your voice breaking at the thought that you watched your people die early that day.

She swallows, turns her gaze out to those that survived the attack, and runs her tongue over her lips before looking back at you. “And they need to see you strong and taking care of yourself,” she whispers, placing the cup in your hand as you glance up at her.

Forcing yourself to smile as you bring the cup up to your lips to take a sip, you look out to the room again and sigh sadly. Shaking your head and not being able to bear seeing them like you, you drop your gaze again and fight back the growing tears in your eyes. “I haven’t seen them like this before. Ever since I became a part of them, they have always been fierce, proud, and strong people,” you mention, making Torvi turn her head to you so she can listen to your words. “They’ve lost so much now and I don’t know if anything I say can comfort them,” you add, looking at her with tears in your eyes.

She places a gentle hand on your forearm and offers a friendly smile. “You are in mourning, just as they are. You don’t have to say anything right now if you don’t want to. They will understand,” she softly says.

You nod, look down again and bite your lower lip. You’re so used to comforting those in need, feeling as if it’s your duty being the voice of a Goddess, you often forget that sometimes you need to be comforted too. That’s always where Estadir comes in and gives you that listening ear you’ve been to others. And now he’s not here.

Hearing the horn announcing the arrival of someone, both you and Torvi stand and stare at the door in anticipation. When she sees her husband walking through the doors in one piece, she breathes out a relieved sigh and rushes forward.

Your gaze catches Ivar after he glances around at the sight of your people occupying the Great Hall. He’s never seen such a broken look on your face before and it can only mean that your camp indeed attacked. He tries to step towards you so he can attempt to provide whatever comfort you may need, but your head turns at the sound of a couple reuniting. One from your tribe.

The sight makes you smile for a moment before you realize that some of your men and women that went to fight have come back. It’s not as many as those that had left, telling you that the battle was lost, and that makes you fear that you lost Estadir too. Especially since you don’t see him now.

But, before you can despair, you spot someone tall roughly walking into the Great Hall, with more sorrow on his face than you’ve ever seen. A man that looks like he’s lost everything.

“Estadir,” you whisper to yourself as you place the cup down, shrug off the fur around your shoulders and start to move towards him, taking it slow because you don’t know if you’ll fall.

He spots you, and it’s as if the burden on his shoulders is lifted as he breathes out and pushes his way past people to get you. He doesn’t care who’s in his way, he only has sights on you. And when he reaches you, he grabs your face in his hands and presses a deep kiss to your lips, like he hasn’t seen you in years.

It’s a short kiss, enough just to make sure you’re real, that this is real. When he pulls away, he wraps his arms around you and you wrap yours around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug.

You don’t want to let go because you’re afraid to lose this, to lose him.

Still, at this moment, you both know that the ritual didn’t work last night. Starting a family together, having a baby hasn’t been blessed by the Gods and has now been hindered. It’s something Estadir doesn’t understand. They lost innocent lives when the camp was attacked but didn’t win this war, meaning that the Gods haven’t chosen to balance the loss of innocent lives with another, one of his own. One of your own.

He tightens his hold around you, buries his face in your shoulder when he hears a quiet sob leave your lips. He knows you’re thinking about all this too.

Ivar watches the reunion, watches how you two seem to not want to let each other go. He’s never seen other reunited couples act like this. And though he knows that you both lost a lot of people today, both on the battlefield and at the camp, it’s different to see him silently comforting you in a tight embrace.

And though he knows that Estadir might just kill him for ruining this moment, plans do need to be made to protect the city and plan both a counterattack in case of an invasion or another attack so they can win.

Ivar turns his head to the side when you and Estadir pull away and walk off together, and he catches Ubbe staring at him. He shakes his head, telling him to leave you and Estadir be after what you’ve been through today. The thought that Ubbe is constantly watching him when you’re around makes Ivar roll his eyes and he turns to walk away. He’ll think about a plan himself, then.

In a far corner of the room, Estadir sits in a chair and leans forward on his elbows as he looks out to his people. All of them are lamenting, either for the loss of a husband, wife, child, son or daughter, mother or father, or friend. He sighs as you stand in front of him and reach down to take his hands in yours. “This is all my fault,” he whispers, moving his gaze to his hands as he shakes his head. “It was my decision to do the ritual quickly. I should have known that it would upset the Gods if we didn’t do it properly.”

You reach up with one hand to cup his cheek, and he takes this opportunity to pull you closer, between his legs. “Their wrath is indeed mighty,” he whispers, leans forward to rest his forehead on your stomach and his hands on your hips as you start to run your fingers through his braids. “I do not deserve their blessing,” he mutters.

Shaking your head, you look down at him and bite back the tears that his words have brought forth. “This is not your fault, Estadir. Look at me,” you softly beg, lifting his head as you stroke his cheek. He keeps his eyes closed so that he doesn’t show his weakness; his tears. “You can’t be all-knowing all the time, my love. You couldn’t have known that this would happen,” you whisper, wiping away the dirt on his face with your thumb as he shakes his head. He only allows himself to be weak in front of you, but never this weak. You’ve never really seen him cry. “My love-”

“What kind of a father would I be if I cannot even protect those that trusted me?” he cuts you off but his question only makes you shake your head at him when he finally opens his eyes. “I don’t deserve what the Gods have given me,” he says, dropping his gaze and pressing his forehead to your stomach again.

But you stop him, sit on his lap and hold his face in your hands so he can look directly at you. “Dedon wouldn’t have chosen you if you thought you unworthy. These people wouldn’t have chosen you to lead them if they didn’t trust that you would do everything you can to protect them,” you state, wiping away a fallen tear from his cheek before it can reach his beard. “You cannot change the fate of the Gods, even if you are their voice and bound to them.”

You don’t even realize that this is the first time you’re comforting Estadir as you would comfort others. But you’re speaking from your heart, where Virheia seems to be putting those words. And you know from the small smile on his face that it’s slightly working.

“I don’t doubt there will be another battle. So, we will do the ritual again,” you mention, resting your hands on his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist. “And this time, we won’t rush into it. We will do it how it is meant to be done,” you add, and your words please him.

He nods in agreement before leaning forward to rest his head on your chest. Finding comfort in your heartbeat, he breathes out a sigh and lets his eyes flutter shut as you kiss the top of his head and stroke the side of his face with a tender touch.

Tonight, they will honor the dead before planning another ritual. And he knows, he will make sure of it, nothing will be overlooked, nothing will be avoided this time around. It might be different because of the lesser size, but the meaning will be greater than the last.

Now, there really has been innocent blood spilled.

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#ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar ragnarsson #King Ivar #vikings ivar #vikings #vikings fanfic #reader x estadir #unrequited love #hefna

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halfway-happyyy · 3 years

Text

She’s My Kind Of Girl

AN: this started as an idea of the lovely @bskarsgardlove92‘s and i kind of just rolled with it! i hope you enjoy, and as always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated!

synopsis: Alex dresses in drag to attend a costume party with his girl, as one half of Swedish superband, ABBA! Absolute fluff ensues!

“Though you may hail from a long and distinguished line of inexplicably talented thespians, I know you well enough by now to recognize when you're not telling me something.”

Alexander passed a serviette over the front of his mouth and swallowed back a bite of salmon, cocking an eyebrow in amusement. “I beg your pardon?”

She sipped deeply from her glass of chilled wine, and cocked her head to the side, eyeing him. “Don’t play coy with me, Alex. You were on the line with Eija when I came into the kitchen. That glint in your eyes says so much and then nothing at all in equal measure.”

“One could almost say that you know me too well, kid.”

"Almost," She grinned around the delicate rim of her glass. “Now spill it, Skarsgård.”

Alexander leaned back against the oak chair, dangling a long arm over the back of it. “Dad’s seventieth birthday is next month. Eija’s hosting a party back home for him, and she wants us to be there.”

She thought fondly of Alexander’s father often; he had been one of the first faces of his family that she’d had the privilege of meeting when her and Alexander had started taking things a little more seriously. Where her own father figure had been virtually non-existent most of the time, she was blessed to have such a wonderful father-in-law in Stellan. He was such an integral part of their lives that the thought of not returning home to Sweden to celebrate him was almost too much to bear.

“I’ll look into flights tomorrow morning. What kind of get together is it? I would imagine knowing Eija as I do, that she's got something wonderful up her sleeve?”

Alexander's lips curved up into a devilish smirk and he cocked his head to the side.

“She's hosting a costume party.”

There it was…

“God, I can only imagine the ideas that beautiful mind of yours has already dreamed up.”

Alexander tipped the rest of his wine into his mouth, his blue eyes glittering mischievously in the low light from the dining room lamp. “Hm, you know how much dad loves ABBA…”

It was the precise tone of his voice that she reckoned prepared her for what was coming next. “Oh boy,” She giggled under her breath.

“Well, I propose that we go as Björn and Agnetha.”

She mulled the thought of it over in her head, and then an idea swam into her mind's eye that caused a smirk similar to her other half's to tug the edges of her lips skyward. “I'll do it on one condition, my love.”

His eyebrow lifted in intrigue. “I'm all ears.”

“I will do it if I can be the Björn to your Agnetha.”

His laughter- utterly loud and booming, filled every square space of their home with a warm and joyous sound. When it subsided, he leveled his gaze with hers and she noticed immediately, the blush that had risen to the apples his cheeks. After a moment, he nodded his head finitely. “You've got yourself a deal, kid.”

She glanced at the watch face beneath the bell sleeve of her silver, sequined blouse, and sighed heavily. “C'mon dancing queen, we haven’t got all night…” Alexander emerged from the bathroom door a moment later, a blonde, perfectly styled wig fell below the cups of a filled-out bra.

“I must say,” He reached toward her to tousle the brunette wig atop of her head, a smirk in place on his features. “Silver and forest green sequins do wonders for you, kid. Or should I say- Björn.”

“Oh hush,” She giggled. “I can hardly imagine the outfit you’ve conjured up for this evening." They gazed at each other in silence for a moment before she gestured to her vanity. "Shall I do your makeup?”

Alexander shifted from foot to foot. “If you wouldn't mind,” He murmured.

She stood on tiptoes to twirl strands of blonde hair around her finger. “It would be an honour, Agnetha.”

She followed Alexander to the vanity next to their bay window and turned on the lamp so that it illuminated his face perfectly. Pulling up a photo of Agnetha on her phone for reference, she set to work. “She sometimes likes to wear bold colours on her eyes, so that’s the look we’re going for this evening.” She started the process by moisturizing and priming his face, opting out of a foundation, and using a tinted moisturizer instead. “Alright, close your eyes for me, my love.” He did as he was told, and she allowed herself a moment to admire how breathtaking he truly was. After a couple of seconds of searching, she found a palette that was made up of different shades of purple and applied a muted lavender hue over both of his lids. Wanting to go a little darker, she blended a violet shade into his creases and stood back to admire her handiwork. Nearly done, she decided to go dramatic on the eyeliner, but when she reached for her favourite tube of mascara, Alexander faltered.

“I don’t need… falsies?”

She blanched. “Alex, I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but your natural eyelashes are beautiful,” She took his face in her hands and gently turned it to the side, gesturing to his left eye. “Look how long and healthy they are. I think I have some cheap lashes lying around somewhere if you really want them, but I think a few coats of mascara will do wonderfully.”

He reached up to press his lips to the underside of her jaw, shaking his head. “No, I trust you.”

She kissed the tip of his nose and got back to work. “You’ve done magnificent so far. I’m just about finished…” She glanced around for her mauve pink lipstick, held a hand beneath his chin and applied the colour to his lips. “Alright, rub your lips together for me please.” She watched him do as she asked. “Now pat them together, as if you were smacking them.” She waited. “Alright, for the finishing touch,” She reached for her bottle of setting spray, told him to close his eyes, and let the mist settle over his face. “You my love, are finished and ready for the evening.

He leaned forward to inspect her handiwork closely, and a large smile grew on his face. “You’ve done a wonderful job, kid.”

She nodded towards the washroom door. “Go on then, Chiquitita. The party awaits.”

“You and your ABBA puns, huh?” Alexander smirked, before closing the door behind him.

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just wait until your brothers get a hold of us.” She snickered. While she waited for Alexander to wrap up, she began lacing up the white platform boots she had found weeks ago. They added an extra four inches to her height, and she fought back a giggle as she sipped the last remnants of her pre-game cocktail.

Ten minutes elapsed, and she began to feel the familiar tug of inebriation deep in her belly. Suddenly, Alexander cleared his throat. “I’m coming out. Are you ready?”

“I’ve literally never been more ready in my life.” She deadpanned.

Alexander emerged from the washroom, and all she could do was gape at his figure as he stood poised in the doorway. Lord knows where, but he had managed to find a hot pink jumpsuit with a silver-sequined trim around the neckline and a heart-shaped cutout that showed off his adorable, trim bellybutton perfectly. He donned glossy, white boots on his feet that only added to his seemingly immense height. “Well, what do you think?” He asked, dubiously.

She swallowed hard. “I have lots of feelings about it actually… but our car is here, and your father awaits.” She held her arm out for him to take. “Shall we go, my beautiful Agnetha?”

Alexander accepted her arm gratefully and bent down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Lead the way, Björn.”

“What are your brothers going as?” She asked, as they slid into the backseat of the sedan.

“Uh, I think Bill and his family said that they were going as Disney characters. Gustaf and Valter are going as Top Gun’s Maverick and Goose, respectively,” He paused so that they could share a laugh at that. “And I’m not sure yet what Sam and his family are doing.”

She scratched contemptuously at the back of her head. “I hate this wig already.”

Alexander snorted into his drink. “But it looks so good on you… the way it kind of frames your face in that ‘the 70’s called and they want their hair back’ kind of way…”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s the heart-shaped bellybutton window for me.”

Alexander guffawed loudly. “Oh really? We're playing that game? Well then, it’s the extra four or five inches that you’re wearing but you still don’t reach past my sternum, for me.”

They rounded the corner to Stellan’s street, and laughter bubbled up out of her mouth like a song. “It’s the fact that you look better than most women I know, for me.” This sent Alexander into such a frenzy that she paid the driver herself. “Alright, Agnetha, I have a dream and it involves you exiting this vehicle tonight,” She nudged his back to get him out of the open car door. “Let's go, girlfriend.” They ambled up the pathway hand-in-hand and stood giggling in front of Stellan’s door. Roaring laughter and bits and pieces of broken Swedish and English conversation could be heard from inside as her finger hovered above the doorbell. “You ready?”

Alexander nodded, finitely. “Go on then,”

She rang the bell and waited for what felt like years, before the door flung open and Eija greeted them in a demure, feline costume. Her face was disbelieving at first, but then her painted-on whiskers twitched; she cracked and laughter roared from her belly in happy waves. When she could speak again, she shook her head gleefully. “Come in, come in you two. What an honour to have one half of the world’s greatest band with us!” She ushered them into Stellan’s lively home, the scent of a freshly-cooked feast hung tantalizing in the air, and made her mouth water hungrily. “Just wait until papa sees you!” She clapped her hands merrily, pulling them into the adjacent living room.

Their entrance caused mass hysteria; pure laugher on a level that was hard to fathom. Gustaf approached them first, a pair of sunglasses sat perched atop his head, and he was sporting a mustache. Clad in a pair of army-green coveralls, the badge on his chest simply read, ‘Gus.’ “I have to say that when Alex first told me what the two of you were planning, this was not what I had in mind…” He scratched absentmindedly at the bridge of his nose, his smile wry. “But you two absolutely knocked it out of the park. Well done, brother.” He belly laughed, and wrapped an arm around Alex’s shoulders, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I can’t wait until dad sees you.”

Valter appeared before them next, clad in the exact same costume as Gustaf accept that his badge read, ‘Maverick’, and he had on over his blue eyes, a pair of mirrored Rayban aviators. “Mamma Mia, Agnetha! Such lovely bosoms you have!”

A hand appeared out of the abyss and sneaked its way toward Alexander’s ample breasts, but the younger Skarsgård's plan was foiled before he could get there with Alexander slapping it away just in the nick of time. “Touch them and die, Valter.” He beamed, devilishly.

Valter's grin was sheepish. “My apologies Agnetha- Björn.”

She tossed a wink his way. “Turns out she can take care of herself just fine.”

“Alright, alright, where are they?” Stellan’s achingly familiar voice- unmistakable anywhere, boomed throughout the room. When he caught sight of them, he stood stock-still and tilted his head back, his rolling laughter loud and genuine. It caused pleasant goosebumps to rise in waves over her arms, and she couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “This is it,” He announced. “I couldn’t dare to ask for another thing after this. My eldest boy and his love coming in drag as Agnetha and Björn? This is seventy, folks!” He closed the distance between them to wrap them both in a crushing bear hug. When he pulled away, his eyes were glittering brightly beneath the low light of the many lamps scattered around the living room. “How unbelievably wonderful it is to see you both here.” He kissed both of their cheeks over again, his smile wide and utterly contagious. “On a totally unrelated note- that you and Björn here have similar situations happening… ehm, up top, is really quite miraculous, isn’t it?”

Alexander rolled his azure eyes, laughing loudly at that. “Happy birthday, dad.”

“And what a wonderful birthday it turned out to be. Come, come. We have much to discuss.”

The night carried on in much the same fashion; drinks were had (and spilt), laughter was shared, pictures were taken- and all the while, she just felt unimaginably blessed to be a part of it all. Closer towards the evening’s finish, she felt Alexander’s hand tighten around her own, and she knew then, without a shadow of a doubt that this was her family. This was where she belonged.

#literal ICONS #who doesn't love little ABBA??#alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #alexander skarsgard imagine #alexander skarsgard oneshot #alexander skarsgard drabble #drabble #writing #fluff #alex sstuff

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kanene-yaaay · 3 years

Text

Sleep

Kanene’s note: Heya! It’s me, Mario!!! dfghjkrgthjk jk jk. Okay, that idea hit me in the middle of the night and I think it’s very cute!! So have a bit of tickles and fluff and teases today!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Switch!Yamada with Switch!Aizawa. They’re in a romantic relationship. Around 2.200 words.

* The Ler!Aizawa part was inspired by these tickle-headcanons! They’re absolutely amazing!!!!

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Consume some of your comfort content! Fanfic, series, movies... anything that makes u happy! Drink water, sleep, eat and love! Today is another day and I’m proud that we’re both still here.

[~*~]

Yamada woke up to complete darkness.

Which wasn't such a rare occurrence. With both his and his husband’s tendencies of having migraines their room was often bathed in a total lack of light, and that, together with the fact of Aizawa being an incorrigible cuddle bug who soaked his ‘daily dose of morning snuggles’ – as Hizashi loved to call them and loved even more the other’s blushed face and deadly glare directed at him every time he dared to say such thing - was enough for him to find no surprise at all in feeling the pressure of Aizawa basically using him as his own personal bed.

“Morning, babe.” He maneuvered himself to gently kick Shouta’s legs off him, which resulted in the immediate locking of arms on the blonde’s waist, Shouta mumbling whatevers as he nuzzles his chest, making Yamada giggles quietly. He began to comb Aizawa’s hair with his fingers, both out of adoration with how much adorable his husband could be and to take it from his own face so he would be able to see what time it was.

Eight in the morning. Yep. Time to start getting ready for their meeting with Nedzu and his usual Saturday patrol. He would also need some time in between those to call the Radio’s station and see if everything was ok with today’s interviewed, get a couple more of songs to play tonight and make sure to come back at two in the afternoon so he and Eri could have some quality time as Shouta slept a bit to not pass out on his night patrol.

OK. That sounds like a plan! Time to begin the day with a proper breakfast since both were equally horrible in keeping a healthy routine and he would probably forget to eat lunch since Eri wouldn’t be there with him serving as an adorable, lovely reminder that humans have basic needs in order to be alive.

He tried to move, receiving an annoyed growl as an answer, the arms squeezing a bit firmer. Hizashi snorted.

“Sho, I need to make breakfast and wake up Eri, okay?” He kissed the top of his head and traced an imaginary flower on his cheek, voice soft, feeling the other melt on him, humming happily. “You can sleep a few minutes more.”

“No. Warm.”

“I will bring you our cats, you can show your undying love to them, then.” Hizashi tried to pry the other’s grip from him, unsuccessfully. “Come on, let me go. We have a meeting to attend with Nedzu today, remember?”

“Fuck ‘im.”

Hizashi controlled himself to not bark a laughter, fingers itching to get his phone and amplify his blackmail treasures. “Shh, he will hear you.”

“’don’t wanna cats,” Aizawa’s tune was slurred and he deposited a tired kiss on his bare shoulder, “I wan’ you.”

And damn if that didn’t turn his weak heart in a happy gooey puddle, his smile going from one ear to another and his resolve to be a responsible adult and get out of the bed was almost burned to total inexistence.

Key word: Almost.

Especially when the raven haired adult sighs contently, his breath lightly tickling his neck and leading to a quite evil idea to gain form and color on his mind. His smile got wider, eviller.

“Okay, babe.” Yamada’s hands rested on the other’s sides, going up, fingers smoothly running across his ribs, his nails barely grazing the skin as they went slowly back and forth, back and forth. A soft ‘tsk’ flew on the air as the smaller began to squirm. “Let’s have some fun then, shall we?”

His index fingers stopped their dance to focus on his lowest rib, circling that sweet spot in the middle of it while the other fingers concentrated in clawing the horribly sensitive skin around it, staying firm on their task even when Aizawa jumped with the ticklish jolts that hit him.

“H-hi-hizasshhhi.” His tone was low, warning. His brain still trying to wake up enough while his body wobbly fought to escape from the sensations, his struggles increasing specifically when his husband adjusted him so he would be laying on his back on the top of him, arms criss crossed on his chest.

“Oh, is someone finally waking up? ~” Aizawa scrunched, Yamada’s breath hitting his ears. However, his attempts proved themselves futile as the other took as his duty to nibble, huff and puff on the ticklish spot, going from one ear to another with ease, finally breaking his husband’s barriers and being rewarded by a low, fast giggly fit. “I wonder what I did to deserve that my incredible, handsome decided to bless my morning with his sunny presence today!”

“Hizashi, I am going to k-ILL” His snickers suddenly raised an octave as the blonde gave a quick squeeze on his hips that made his waist jerk instinctively.

“Now, now, is that way to greet the love of your life?” Hizashi whined. “Stop laughing, Sho! I’m trying to hold a serious conversation here but something tells me you’re distracted.” Yamada kept lazily poking him, slow enough to leave him breathing properly, but quick enough to tear snorts and chuckles from his firmly pressed lips.

“D-d-don’t.” His face was in flames as a barely muffled squeak fell from his mouth as Hizashi gave a quick nip right behind his left ear, letting out an adoring ‘Awww. Isn’t he adorableee?~’ in the process.

“I am- I am going to get you back for that! You know I will!”

“So grumpy, so cutee. ~”

He tried to turn in order to give his beloved a deadly glare which usually made his students and villains fear for their lives, his eyes only barely catching his husband’s bright smile before his breath was stole when his partner resolved to attack, unmerciful squeezes mixed with a couple of thumbs digging energetically on his hips, kneading, tickling.

His laughter filled the room.

“HIZASHI!!” He kicked and trashed, but in vain.

“What is it, babe?” The other started to switch between his tickle spots, knowing he couldn’t take it too long or they would be late. “Wow! I didn’t know you could be so alive in the mornings, love!! Have you been hiding that from your awesome husband all along?” Nails scratching on his armpits, fingers prodding his ribs, wriggling on his waistline, drumming on his belly. “All that beautiful laughter? All that wonderful snorts? And giggles? And squeals? Now, I am wounded, Sho! I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other!”

When nothing except laughter and squirming answered him, he decided to stop, deciding the few minutes of fun were already enough adrenaline to maintain Shouta conscious enough until he prepared his coffee. He quickly laid the other on the mattress, resting some kisses on his face as his husband got his breath back.

“You-” He gasped, hiding his smile behind his hand. “You better run.”

In a second Hizashi was out of their bed, “OkayloveyousomuchbabeI’mgoingtowakeEriupdon’tkillmeIloveyousosomuchbye.”

And run he did.

[~*~]

Shouta dumped his capture weapon on the couch, immediately seeing three blurs of fur dashing from his peripheral vision directly to the object, meowing and getting tangled as they fiercely ‘fought’ with it. Shouta knew that this being his weapon and therefore an important part of his work, he shouldn’t let his cats play with it. However, as he petted two fluffy heads that popped from the cloth and the exhaustion started to totally take over his body and actions, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had some spare scarves somewhere, he was sure.

“Dumb cats.” He fondly remarked, scratching their newest kitten under her chin before adventuring to his room, stopping only to check on Eri and relax as he found her calmly sleeping on her bed. Good.

His eyes narrowed as he noticed the light coming from under his bedroom, sighing and putting his eyedrops, already aware of the other fight he would have to face.

“Hizashi,” it’s his greeting. The blonde hums, glare still clued on the screen in front of him, head resting on one of his hands, “it’s three in the morning and we have classes tomorrow. Turn that thing off.”

“Hypocrisy, hypocrisy.” Yamada sings, hand rocking in the beat of his imaginary melody, the tiredness dripping from his words. Yet he took off his headphones, turning on his direction with alert eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“Nah, slow night.”

“Good.” Hizashi smiled. A small, true smile that spread a warm feeling across his chest and only made his resolute to protect his husband from every bad thing in the world grew stronger, even if the ‘bad thing’ which threatened him right now was his horrible sleep schedule. “We saved some dango for you. It’s on the fridge.”

Aizawa nodded, watching him turn back to his computer. “I’m going to grade 1-A tests when I am back.” And that perked the other’s attention, since both had the habit of grading tests together in order to get some quality time on their incredibly busy lives.

That is why the taller was sitting on the bed with a pack of papers in his hands when Shouta came back, falling on the mattress face first, relaxing on the soft fabric. But, he couldn’t concentrate on that feeling now, turning to his left and trapping Yamada with his arms around his sides, legs entangling.

“Sleep.” He clued his face on the other’s stomach, his voice vibrating across the skin and gathering a mix of snort and squeal, probably because of the ticklish sensation.

Oh. Ticklish.

“Babe, I really can’t right now. There are those videos I asked for my students to do and I really need to analyze and give them the results before the weekend.” Aizawa scolded his expression so his devil smirk wouldn’t be noticed by Hizashi, instead he looked up, locking their eyes, his features inexpressive as ever.

Hizashi bit his lower lip.

He frowned, intense glares.

“Okay, okay! You know I am weak for those kitten eyes, your cheater.” The blonde pouted and pointedly ignored the smug shining on his partner’s face. “But this is only a break, ok? Just some cuddles and then I’m going to finish my work.”

Aizawa hummed, not quite agreeing, not disagreeing. Yamada laid down and chuckled as the raven haired adult quickly hid his face on his neck, a hand absently running on his back and melting his strict pose.

“Cuddlebug.”

A yelp escaped from his lips as Aizawa used a thumb to prod the so, so sensitive skin between his shoulder blades. The morning events from yesterday fell on him as a bucket of cold water, sending shivers down on his spine, essentially when Yamada tried to wiggle away, finding his form very well secured on his love’s arms.

“Shouta, no.” Shouta hummed, his voice vibrating on the sweet spot that was his neck, his stubble helping in nothing the giggles which already began to bubble on his throat. “Shouta, please, my love, light of my life,” he could almost feel the other’s wicked grin grow, the hand tensing behind him, “no, no, no! I can’t! You know I can’t! Shouta, I-”

And with no warning a loud shriek - which didn’t break their windows due how fast Aizawa activated his own quirk - dashed from his mouth, laughter blooming as a mix of pokes, scratches and kneading along the whole extent of his upper back, even giving some special attention to his ribs and spine, kept him in stitches.

His back arched at the tickly tickles, sending him directly to the unbearable nuzzles of his husband, the main reason for so many squeaks and squeals make themselves present on his uncontrollable laughter.

“Tsk, tsk. One would think that such a known pro-hero would be able to put up with a better fight.” Nuzzle. Scribble. Unintelligible pleas of mercy. Raspberry. “Always so easy to read…You could at least try to pretend you aren’t loving every. Second. Of. It.”

“Shouta! Nono! Shuhuhut up! Shut up!”

“It’s not my fault you were always so defenseless to teases. What about we train you to endure them?”

Hizashi shook his head, laughing and shrieking too much to gather a real answer.

And, as sudden the attack came, it was gone. The hand went up to gently massage his scalp, tearing a relaxed sigh from Yamada as he fought to get his breath back, high-pitched giggles still tripping from his lips since the light tickles continued on his poor neck, sporadic kisses and eventual nibbles on the spot right under his chin maintaining his gigantic, bright smile.

“So ticklish, so helpless. Just a few well placed touches and I can already defeat you.”

“You talk as if you were any less susceptible.” A squeeze on his knee warned him about the possible consequence of his words. Hizashi pinched his thigh in retaliation, although much less energetic.

“Don’t. Different from you, I want to get some real sleep.” And then he started to comb the blonde hair, Yamada’s eyelids began to drop, his tiredness now being much more present as the other used his number one melt spot against him.

“Cheater…”

“You will survive.” Shouta tilted his head up and kissed his husband’s lips, also starting to drift away as Hizashi’s arms pulled him closer.

“Good night, babe.”

“Night.”

#Switch!Aizawa #Switch!Yamada #Ticklish!Shouta #Ticklish!Hizashi #bnha tickles #bnha tickling #Aizawa *being tickled*: I am going to get you back! You know I will/ Mic *chuckles*: I am in danger :]#They're precious #Romantic relationship #Mouth tickles #Light and hard tickles #Teases and tickles #Kanene's Fic #Kanene's Fanfic #Kanene's Art #<333 #I didn't proofread this so I will be making some edits on the future!

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