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skipper1331 · 8 months
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Butterfly // Alessia Russo
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Brody Armstrong once said: "When you meet someone for the first time, that’s not the whole book. That’s just the first page" and she’s totally right. When you first met Alessia you didn’t know that quote, you could barely speak let alone read but over the years, when got older, you started to understand it. The day you met her, the first page was written and your story began. Now, Alessia and you have been together for 9 years, 3 of them married and it‘s still not finished.
age 4
You have known each other since you were 4. The two of you lived in the same street and played at the same playground.
You were building a sandcastle with 3 towers, two of them already finished when a little girl ran towards the sandbox you were sitting in. As clumsy as the girl was she stumbled over the edge of the box, falling on your towers, smashing them under her body. With wide eyes you looked at the blonde, her face full of sand "i‘m sowwy" she apologized immediately. You looked to your mother who was talking to a stranger. "That‘s my mum." the sandcastle smasher pointed at the woman next to your mother. "You broke my castle" she looked at you before filling your bucket with sand, ready to build a new castle. "I‘m Alessia"
"My name is y/n"
That day Alessia and you became friends.
age 6
Less was standing at the table, drinking something while she watched you. You were running around in the Russo garden, trying to catch a butterfly. But not only her eyes were on you but also the eyes of her mum and your mum. "She‘s my butterfly" the blonde admitted without thinking. "Lessi, she’s not a butterfly, she’s a girl." her mother said to her, not liking that she referred to you as an animal. "Then, she‘s my girl!" she put down the glass of water and ran back to you with the intention to help you catch the butterfly. It didn‘t work. Either it was too high to reach or no longer in sight so you decided to kick a ball instead.
age 10
The two of you were in training when one of your teammates stood on your ankle. It wasn’t on purpose but when the italian saw you go down, holding your ankle, crying, she ran up to you, pushing the girl away from you. She didn't want her around you any longer. "Please stop crying, butterfly" Lessi begged as she wiped the hair out of your face. "It hurts" by now the coach joined you as well, taking of your boot. You winced, Alessia instantly put her arm around shoulder, trying to comfort you and sort of protect you. Your ankle was red, surely there was going to be a bruise "Let’s get you to the sidelines, okay?" Coach said as the helped you up but you couldn‘t put weight on your foot. "I got it from here, coach" the blonde grumbled as she took your hands. "You sure?"
"Yes" when the coach walked away to the others girls Less took the matter in her own hands. "I‘m gonna carry you to the side" she stated as she picked you up with an ease. She carried you out of the way and sat you back down slowly. She sat beside you, glaring at the girl who hurt you. As a thank you you laid your head on Lessi‘s shoulder.
In that moment, Alessia promised herself to protect you forever.
age 14
When Alessia was 14 she realized she liked girls. That she liked a girl, a special girl. You. She loved the way your laugh sounded, she loved the way you smiled. She loved the way you would take care of her if she had been clumsy, she loved your kindness. She loved your eyes, the way they shone. She loved that she could make you laugh and blush. She loved you, you‘re her butterfly.
You fell in love with Alessia a long time ago, probably to a time where you didn‘t know what love was. She made you feel special.
It was after a home game when Alessia first kissed you. Alessia scored a hattrick and you scored as well. It was afternoon as her mum picked you up, "see you in 30 minutes, butterfly?" the striker asked as her mum dropped you off. She loved to call you butterfly and has done it for years now. Everybody knew. "Yes. Thanks for the ride, Carol!"
"No problem, honey"
Later that day, you met at your spot. It was a bench at the small lake your town had. "Your hattrick was amazing!" you stated proudly as she got off her bike. "Your goal was a banger though" she smiled as sat down next to you, her hair still wet. You blushed under her gaze, the tip of your ears turning red "no need to get shy, butterfly" the italian smiled while she pinched your cheeks "stop it" you whined as your cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. "I- i can‘t" her hands cupped your cheek as she gazed in your eyes, getting lost in them. "Lessi" you breathed as her face inched closer. You could feel her breath against your lips. Her gaze flicked to your lips before she looked back in your eyes. As she made the final move with pushing her lips against yours you rested your hands on her knees, not knowing where else to put them. It was your first kiss with Alessia and your first kiss in general, you didn‘t even know how to move your lips so you didn‘t and neither did Lessi. "Oh my god," she whispered as she pulled apart "i‘m so sorry." Quickly, she grabbed her bike and cycled home, leaving you alone at the bench. Dazed, your fingers touched the spot where Alessias lips had been a minute ago. "Wow"
age 15
Behind closed doors, you kissed multiple times a day. It was one of your favorite things to do yet you were not offically together. Sometimes she asked you to take you out on a date and sometimes you asked her but the girlfriend question has never been asked, both of you too shy.
You were hanging out at her house, sitting on her bed while she sat on the bean bag. "You don‘t know what happened today"
"Tell me, butterfly"
"You know, Josh, the dark haired guy. He asked me out" you laughed, letting your head fall into her pillow. "What?!" the striker shouted, jumping off her seat. She didn‘t find it funny at all that Josh asked you out. You, her girl, her butterfly. "What did you say?" she asked as stepped closer to you. "I said no," a sigh of relief left her body "did you think i would‘ve said yes?"
"I don‘t know?" she admitted, you weren‘t fully hers yet. "Lessi," you pulled her on to you, your fingers playing with the hem of her shirt "I want to be your girlfriend"
"Be my girlfriend, butterfly."
The two of you shared a sweet kiss, the first one of many as girlfriends.
age 16
"Do you want sleep at mine, tonight?" your girlfriend of one year asked. "My parents and brothers won‘t be home until sunday afternoon" her face turned bright red as she played with your fingers. "I would love to"
You didn‘t know why you were nervous, you had stayed at Alessias house multiple times but this time it felt different, for the both of you. "Hi, butterfly" the blonde smiled as she opened the door. "I hope you‘re hungry because i made lasagna" you stepped into her home - your second home - as she closed the door. Pressing a kiss to your temple she pulled you into the kitchen. "It looks perfect, baby"
Your girlfriend and you ate dinner on the couch while watching Mamma Mia. After finishing the dish, the empty plates rested on the coffee table. Alessia was hugging your smaller figure with her head hiding in the crook of you neck, the movie long forgotten. Your legs were tangled together while you played with her hair as she started to press kisses along your neck. "Baby" you breathed, only encouraging her to leave some hickies on your neck. Her kisses trailed up your jaw and then to your lips which she kissed passionately. Her hands held your neck while your hands made their way under her hoodie, scratching her back, occasionally running your fingers over her abs. It made her go crazy. "Do you wanna go upstairs?" she asked, wanting to take steps further with you. Her lips were just as swollen as yours. "Yeah"
In her room, she immediately started to kiss you again, grabbing your waist and pulling you in to her. Your arms looped around her neck as she walked you back against her door. She pulled on your (her) hoodie, asking If she could take it off. Within seconds you got rid of it. "You‘re so beautiful" the italian whispered as she looked over you. "Take yours off, too" - she did.
On her bed, she was hovering above you, the two of you only in your underwear. "Are you sure you want this?" she questioned, just to be sure. "Yes, lessi. Yes" you smiled at one another before you leaned up to re-connect your lips.
"I love you"
"I love you, too"
age 18
Long distance. With Lessi being at unc and you being in England, it was hard but you managed. You had to.
"Were gonna be okay even when i‘m at unc, don’t we?" Her voice was quiet, afraid of your answer. She was playing with your hair while your head rested on chest "of course we will" you stated confidently. Yes, it would be hard, maybe even horrible at times but you loved her and she loved you. "You won‘t find another girl, promise me." Your head snapped in her direction as she looked so vulnerable. "Lessi, i love you! There‘ll never be another girl, okay?" your girl nodded shyly as you whispered "i promise you" before kissing her forehead.
To be honest, your relationship had it‘s problems with her being far away. Jealousy, and longing were the two biggest problems on both sides but you communicated your feelings and worries. And in the end, it made your relationship grow stronger.
age 21
Lessi was nervous. For months, she had planned this day. Ella was her savior because she couldn‘t talk to you about it like she normally would. The italian was about to propose to you. For years, you have been her girl, her one and only. She knew you were the one, she wanted to spend forever and longer with you. The plan was simple: the two of you would visit your hometown and her brothers would distract you as long as she needed them to so that she can prepare everything at your spot. She had the blessing of your parents, from everyone that was important to you.
As she finished preparing everything, she texted in the siblings group chat.
Less
ready.
"Lessi is waiting for you" Luca said as she scanned her text. "What?" you asked confused, not understading anything. She told you she would get food. "Go to your favorite spot" Gio stated as she pushed you gently out of the door. And you did.
You saw her standing near the lake, she looked beautiful under the sun light. Rose petals were spread on the floor, music playing softly in the backround. "Baby, what’s this?" you asked, admiring everything around her. "Butterfly," she grabbed your hands, pulling you in front of her "when I was 4 I met you for the first time and when I was 14 I first realized that I liked you, I kissed you for the first time, too. In that decade you became my butterfly. I‘ve never told you why or how but that changes now. It was a summer day, you were at my house. I remember drinking some water as you chased after a butterfly. Then you became my butterfly. You‘re my biggest supporter, my number one fan, you bring the best out of me as a football player and human and I love you so much. I couldn’t have wished for a better friend, best friend and girlfriend" you were crying by now while she took a deep breath before she continued. "I want you to be my wife." As she went down on one knee, she pulled a velvet box out of her pocket "I promise you to cherish you and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make you happy so will you make me the happiest person alive, will you marry me?"
"Yes!!! A thousand times yes!"
A year later, the two of you got happily married and you could proudly call yourself Y/n Russo.
age 23, summer 2022
"We‘re champions!" you shouted as you jumped on Lessi who hugged you like her life was depending on it. "We did it" she mumbled into your neck, still completely in shock. When your feet touched the ground, you didn‘t let go of your wife and neither did she. Surrounded by your own little bubble, you only cared for one another in this moment. As Alessia pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead your little bubble was broken by an Ella Toone. She jumped on both of you, one leg around Less' hip and one around yours as she hugged you in a death grip.
Each lioness was drunk as hell. Everyone had their jerseys on and their medal around their necks as they danced. "I‘m so proud of you" you whispered against your lovers lips. "I love youuu" she replied in her drunken state, twirling you around. "My name on your back always does things to me" she almost moaned, her fingers tracing over the letters of her - your - name.
Both of you felt at peace, surrounded by each other, your family and friends. It was a night to remember.
age 24
The world cup dream came true. Less and you were in the squad. As you heard the news you squealed, jumped up and down, ran through your home. Your bodies were filled with pure joy.
The first night in Australia was wow. You couldn‘t believe that you were actually here. Also that the two of you shared a room was amazing; waking up and going to sleep in each others arms.
When your off day came by you slept a little longer than you normally would. Lessi had her arm around you, already awake as she traced her finger over your tattoo. Shortly after the euros, you decided to get matching tattoos so now there rested the 23 on your collarbone while she got a butterfly at the same spot on her body. It was nothing big but it held so much meaning behind it.
Your story began 20 years ago and still hasn't come to an end nor does it intend to end as you promised one another in your vows.
Each day, the story of the 23 and butterfly will continue.
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jonghoslvt · 6 months
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First time.
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You both rent the same apartment, unaware of the mistake until move in day.
Genre; smut
Pairing ; Seonghwa x fem! Reader
Warnings; unprotected sex (wrap it up), bit of exhibitionism, hair pulling, not sure if I forgot anything else.
Word count; do people actually care about that?
“Y/n! How does it feel to officially be the first of the friend group to be moving into an apartment today?”You bit down on your milk bread, pondering an answer. If anything, it felt great-you’d finally have privacy, a space just for you. And besides, your parents had the tendency to move a lot because of work so it was always a pain having to say goodbye to every friend at any town you stayed in. Moving out means you won’t have to bounce back and forth to different apartments. “It feels..kind of liberating.” You respond, taking a sip of your vanilla latte. “Well of course it feels liberating, just know we’d kill to be in your shoes right now.” Your other friend sighs and takes a sip of her boba “I’d totally move out but this job doesn’t pay me enough, plus my moms being a total pain in the ass and always asks me for money.” You shake your head as your friends complain, overall though they are happy for you. After an hour more of hanging out, you left and was now on your way to the complex. The woman who owned it was old, but very polite, she was nice enough to cut the rent down just a bit for you so long as you walk her dog whenever needed. Shit, as long as you can pay less you’d wash her dishes if needed too.
Your clothes and other homely items were already in boxes inside the apartment, your dad was nice enough to hire movers for the dressers and tv. All you had to do was get comfortable and put all of your clothes away. Walking up to the entrance you spot the landlady and go over, greeting her nicely “hello!” The old woman looks up and smiles warmly at you, her dog standing at her side. It seemed like she had just finished taking him for a walk “hello dear, the last of your boxes was just dropped off to the apartment, here’s the key.” You take the Key and reach down to pet her dog while looking up at her “thank you so much once again, I really appreciate this.” But she shakes her head “oh it’s not a problem, just be a dear and pick this one up at 3pm will you?” You nod and make your way upstairs to the apartment. The building is nice, old but there were some things Recently fixed so, the rooms should look as new. Unlocking the door you immediately look around, it’s just right. Not too spacious but also not too tiny and at such a good deal as well. For the moment it was empty, given the fact that you haven’t went for a set up yet and didn’t exactly know where to start. However for now maybe changing out of your outside clothes would be a good way to make things feel like home.
Meanwhile the old woman tended to the garden behind the building, wondering to herself “I feel like I’m forgetting something..” and she did. Unbeknownst to you, someone else rented the apartment as well and he was already at the front door opening it. You were midway through taking off your bra when the door swung open, your heart nearly jumping out of your chest. Immediately you stopped what you were doing and covered yourself. “I’m so sorry for the mistake, I must’ve forgotten that I had rented this place out to someone else, I really apologize for the inconvenience.” The both of you sat at the coffee table not looking at the other as the old woman spoke and explained the situation, no words exchanged from either of you as it was already embarrassing. “But there’s a solution, if you two could just share this apartment for a week I should have another one available for either of you to move into.” She’s still frantically apologizing to which you wave your hands “oh please don’t apologize, I’m just glad there’s something that can be done..and well I suppose we have no other choice but to do this.” The man looks at you and while at first he seemed hesitant he gave In “I wouldn’t exactly be at liberty to say otherwise so I guess we can make this work for the time being.” The old woman clapped her hands together and thanked the both of you for being understanding, with that she said her goodbyes and left.
“I apologize for walking in on you, I wasn’t aware someone was in here.” You blushed and stood up from the floor, walking over to the kitchen, making yourself a snack with the food your dad dropped off. “it’s fine, let’s just get through this week with no troubles alright? And keep your hands to yourself by the way.” You stated, as stern as possible but he seemed to roll his eyes “you’re not my type so I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” With that he walks off to the empty bedroom and searches for any boxes that might be his. You make yourself a snack and checked the time, it’s late, and you’re definitely a little too tired to be taking stuff out to sort and put them away. Then something hit you, there wasn’t a bed you had completely forgot that your futon wasn’t to be delivered until next week and you immediately groaned. The man comes walking back in, his clothes changed into an off the shoulder black sweater and some sweats. He’s out of his suit, glasses off and hair messy in the front. “What’s wrong this time?”
“I forgot my futon won’t be here until next week, the delivery got delayed.” The man looks off and finds a box labeled as his “I’ve got a flexible mattress in here, you can sleep on it if you’d like. It’s not too thick though because I needed it to fit in the box,” He yawns and stretches a bit, sitting at the dinning table. “I’ll just sleep on the floor out here and you can take the room.” The instant embarrassment showed, it felt wrong to have him sleep on the cold hard floor, if you let that happen you’d forever feel like you owed him something. That was a feeling that didn’t sit right at all. “No we’ll share it, if possible.” He took it out, laying it across the floor to check “seems possible, so I guess we’ll be sleeping next to each other for a week.” With that he dragged it over to the bedroom and set it up with blankets and pillows to make it more comfortable.
You finished your snack and slipped into the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth. Deciding to just shower in the morning before you go off to the supermarket for some shopping. Could you really do this for a week? Being alone with a stranger in a place you both rented wasn’t exactly on your bucket list so this was going to be hard. Hopefully he had a job to be at so you wouldn’t have to see him for the time being. You splashed your face once more before heading over to the bedroom where the man was already laying down, scrolling on his phone.
“Um, I forgot to ask what’s your name?” The question of that totally slipped your mind so you asked. “Seonghwa. You?”
“Y/n..” at first you just sat in the middle room but seonghwa looked up at you, sort of stoned faced and confused “why are you standing there like that?”
“Ah, no reason I was just gonna go lay next to you.”
“Are you embarrassed about it?”
“No..”
“There’s really no need to be, I mean one of us is going to leave after a week so we should at least be a bit comfortable around each other.” You nodded, he was definitely right but it’s not like the feeling would go away. Laying down next to him, you faced the other way while he also faced opposite from you. Giving each other space on the thin mattress, it’s quiet as he turns the mini lamp off. After an hour there’s snoring, though it’s not coming from you it’s coming from him and at first it’s annoying but you learn to ignore it. However you can’t sleep, when you closed your eyes they just shot back open. Obviously the walls were thin, but certainly you shouldn’t be hearing what’s happening behind them at this very moment. A blush creeped on your cheeks as the loud noises of a couple moaning echoed through your ears. The slapping sounds, their bed seemingly hitting the walls that you and seonghwa were laying down behind. You’ll admit, the sounds were starting to turn you on, surely they know they are being loud right? Was it on purpose? Did sex really feel that good? Was she in pain? So many questions. Your breathing got louder as seonghwa seemed to have turned around and was now inches away from your neck. “You hear it too don’t you?” He asks, it makes your heart beat faster, how long has he been awake? Was he ever asleep in the first place? You could almost tell he had a shit eating grin on his face but refused to turn around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about..”
“I think you do, I mean they are pretty loud. Sounds like she’s enjoying it too.” Seonghwa snakes a hand down to your inner thighs and grips them “are you feeling it too? Because I am.” A gasp escapes your lips as he starts rubbing your inner thighs, his free hand cupping one of your breasts. “What the hell are you doing?” You moved away and sat up, quickly turning the lamp back on. Seonghwa himself moves back and grins “are you really going to ignore the way you feel? You were just laying there and listening, if you didn’t want to you could’ve just left the room until they finished.”
“I’m not feeling anything..” you were lying through your teeth. Moments ago you started to get wet but couldn’t really feel it with your shorts on, seonghwa touching you only made it worse. “I think..that you want to be touched while they are loudly doing it.” The sounds were still going on, the slapping, the moans, it had your body pounding with anticipation. “I mean you aren’t the only one who was enjoying it,” he looks down and your eyes follow his head, he was painfully hard. Seonghwa grabs your waist and pulls you back down and onto his lap “I know you’re wet down there, let’s take care of each other yeah?” You bite your lip and look away, were you really about to have sex with some random man you haven’t even known for a day?
Yes, yes you were.
As a way to signal a yes, you slightly open your legs “if it hurts I’ll hit you..” seonghwa hums, his fingers making their way into your shorts. He starts rubbing circles on your clit, and the feeling makes your skin feel electric. He opens your legs more to make things more comfortable, a finger slipping inside you. His pace at first is slow, but then it picks up getting to a point where you felt the urge to fight the feeling. It was overwhelming and you whined out “if you keep going like that I’ll..” seonghwa changes positions, he lays you down on the mattress and pulls his sweatpants down, his dick jumping up against his abdomen. “Gonna use your throat while I finger fuck that pretty cunt of yours. Think you can handle that?” A moan is all you respond with as seonghwa chuckled and squeezes your cheeks to open your mouth. His dick goes so far to the point where it’s hitting the back of your throat. It’s lengthy and curved, whilst he’s fingering the life out of you he’s relentlessly thrusting his hips forward, there’s saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth and chin as he barely pulled out to let you breathe, you’ve resorted to using your nose to do that. After a few more thrusts he stops and pulls out, almost immediately you’re gasping for air and curse at him “were you trying to suffocate me?”
“I did ask if you could handle it, seemed like you could.” He pulls his fingers out and rolls you on your stomach, positioning himself at your entrance. “I don’t have a condom so I’ll pull out when I’m close.”
“I’m on birth control.”
“If you say so, but know that I’m the type to take things at face value, so don’t look surprised if I accidentally forget.” You burry your face in the mattress, arms above your head to grip the pillows. Biting your lip as seonghwa slowly enters, you feel him twitching inside and when he brushes against a certain spot you whimper and tighten around him. “Ah, did I already find your spot? I haven’t even started moving yet.” The brush against that spot had your mind spinning, why did it feel so good? What was it? Eventually seonghwa is balls deep, nails digging into your waist as he starts to move. The pace is slow as it is your first time, but then his pace quickened. After a few thrusts he snakes a hand into your hair and pulls it back, using that and a grip on your waist to keep him up and balanced. The sounds were so loud that you were sure the Couple who started it all could hear, hell maybe even the landlady, the thought of someone hearing how lewd you were being made your walls clench around seonghwa and he groans in response his balls are slapping against your clit, adding to the pleasure. “Why are you so tight, could this be your first time?” You don’t respond, which results in his hand colliding with your ass “I asked you a question hm?”
“Y-yes it’s my first time.”
“Aish, your first time and it’s with a stranger, that’s really lewd. You’re more perverted than I am.” Those words only made your headspace even more crowded, all your silly little brain could think about was him ruining you, breaking you. There was definitely no way that you could just forget this and let the week go by as if nothing happened because a boundary has already been crossed. Just then, your stomach began feeling tight, as if you were experiencing a cramp. Toes curling and fingers gripping the pillow under your head, Is this what an orgasm feels like? “Your pussy is gripping me harder than before, hm did you cum? Did It feel good?” Seonghwa didn’t expect you to respond, if anything his words were nothing but a taunt and you wanted to slap that shit eating grin away “I’d stop but I haven’t been satisfied yet.” His pace gets faster, but sloppier as it seems like he himself is about to come too.
He grabs your waist and pulls you up, turning you around so that your chest to chest with him. He’s still gripping your hair, but slamming down into you with ease. “I’m gonna cum, fuck.” For a moment it seems like he’s deciding where to do it, and you tell him to pull out even if you’re on the pill. But with one last thrust he’s filling you up, it’s warm and fucking amazing but so filthy.
“Like I said baby, don’t be surprised if I forget.” He pulls out, his cum leaking on the mattress, you’re both panting and he falls back.
“Seems like they stopped.” He commented, you didn’t respond, you simply laid back down and stare up at the ceiling.
The morning is going to be so awkward.
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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 1 month
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I’m loving so much the new disowned verse omg, it is so good, you are a genius.
But I’m curious, how did reader and jason met?
The apartment was in a cracker box of a building with thin walls. His neighbors were a young couple that fought about money 25/8 and an elderly 'Nam Vet who liked his porno but- he could cope.
It was different than Gotham. There weren't constant gunshots. And that was weird. But. He knew better than to think his PI license wouldn't make him some money. Even out in the sticks. There was always a contentious divorce. There was always something not quite right. Cops in over their heads.
And he'd have down time. He could read. Work on his bike. Fuck. Maybe even actually go see a movie... Sure. He knew eventually he'd get bored but. For now, he was looking forward to it.
He shut the door and locked it behind him, frowning just slightly and making a note to get a better lock while he was out. He doubted he could find anything super great in town- he'd probably have to order something but. He'd passed a hardware store in town so... it might be worth checking out. If he made friends with the old guy that probably ran it he could probably get some special orders if he needed it.
So he set off that direction, wandering on foot down the sidewalks and taking note of the other houses. It was the middle of the afternoon. And the lunch whistles at the old factory still sounded at nood and then 30 minutes later. Tucked away from the tree-lined main drag, the houses back here varied from run down to better homes and gardens.
That tracked.
They got better closer to the front. The older show homes outweighed the eyesores. American primitive lawn decor. A surprising number of pineapples- and he snorted, wondering if it had come from a big box store or if it was a signal. Or both.
Still.
By the time he made it to the hardware store, he was reasonably certain he could stay busy. All was not as Leave it to Beaver as the Town Council would have you believe. And the first place he was gonna leave a flyer was in the beauty shop. Those old biddies HAD to have some shit to stir up.
He shouldered the door open and a bell, an actual bell, chimed. And he smiled a little taking a deep breath. The smell of dust, tools, and old well-maintained wood hit his nose and he exhaled. Definitely not going to find any high tech locks here. But, he had a soft spot for independent shops.
"Be with you in a minute!"
The voice made him jump. Not the gruff voice of a grumpy old fuck he expected. And it made him search of the source. Curious. "No worries," he said, walking a little farther towards where he'd heard it. Finding a young woman on a ladder stocking some boxes of bolts on a shelf. A pink canvas gardening apron tied around her hips to hold more boxes. "You got door locks?" he asked.
"Aisle 5 next to the paver catalogs," you tell him, steadying yourself so you can turn and glance down at him.
"Perfect," he said, "Thanks."
"Mhm, let me know if you need anything else," you tell him.
Jason paused and looked around, "Think you can put a tool box together for me I just moved and-"
"Ah, yeah. One Bachelor special," you tell him," Jumping down from the ladder, "I think I can get you fixed up. At least enough to get you started. You'll be smashing your thumbs in no time."
"Got a first aid kit too?"
"Right up at the counter," you snort. "But if you want anything special, you gotta see Adam at the Pharmacy. Mine are pretty basic."
"I can deal with basic- at least until you sell me a band saw-"
"Oh lord."
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ficmashup · 30 days
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Gardening
Summary: Ghost is moving into a new apartment and you just so happen to be the building's owner.
A/N: First dip into writing second person (I think that's the right term?) and I'm not sure if I don't like it or if it was just difficult for me. People who've read my Price fic in first person, please weigh in here. I need to know if this sounds weird or if it's just me. I might rewrite the whole thing in first person and see which feels better.
Warnings: Not much here...overworking? Slight fainting. Not edited.
Word Count: 3k+
Masterlist
The first time he sees you, your hands are elbow-deep in dirt and there’s more smeared over your face. It’s late afternoon and he’s heaving a duffel over his shoulder to head into his new apartment. It’s been a long time since he spent long in an apartment at all and by the time he came back to his old one, the building was being foreclosed. He’d never been one to couch surf and he wasn’t about to start now. Certainly not for a month. Jump to seeing you covered in dirt in front of his new apartment building.
He hesitates on the steps, watching you a moment longer while you grumble to yourself. You’re on your knees digging through a flowerbed as if digging for diamonds. “You alright?” He surprises himself by asking and almost keeps walking with the expectation that you won’t even answer, but you turn your face up to him in an instant. Your arm raises to block out the sun and you don’t even flinch as dirt rains down on you.
“Fine, thanks. Just a few roots being stubborn.” You give him a warm, welcoming smile that keeps him still a few moments longer. Long enough for you to scan the duffel on his back and the few boxes set on the ground by his truck. “Moving in?” He hesitates a moment before answering. He’s not in the habit of giving away information freely, but the conclusion is obvious enough. He nods once.
“Then you’re Simon Riley.” You pull your hands from the dirt as if they’re the ones who have taken root and wipe them off on your jeans while getting onto your feet. Trepidation begins creeping into his chest and he grips the strap of his bag over his shoulder a little tighter. “I’m the building’s owner. Nice to meet you in person.” You offer your dirt-smudged hand as you give him your name and he laxes slightly. He takes your hand, seeing approval flash through your eyes. He wonders briefly if offering your dirty hand was a test that he just passed.
“I’ll walk you to your place and make sure you have your keys. Need help carrying anything?” You offer and it’s clear you mean it.
“I’m fine, thank you.” He replies evenly and you nod before leading the way and expecting him to follow.
“I run a tight ship. Hope you read the rules about staying here because if you break any, I’ll throw you out on your ass.” You move around the entrance easily, clearly knowing where everything is without having to look. A little glance over your shoulder is all you give him to make sure he’s listening and you catch the slight upward tilt of his lips.
“Yes, ma’am. Read over things twice.” He answers honestly and you hum with approval before guiding him up the stairs. Something about the way you hold yourself, the easy confidence, the way you say orders and expect them to be followed, reminds him of Price and puts him a little more at ease.
“You’re on the edge of the building, so only one neighbor on the north side and another across the hall. Delaney is quiet and keeps to herself more often than not, but I let her play music on the roof with friends on Saturdays.” Your voice fills the halls and he notes that the place is very well-kept and clean. Even the windows are clear and gleaming. You go on, “Mr. Cruz across the hall can be a bit miserly, but other than mumbling about the newspaper and the state of the world, he’s harmless. His wife, on the other hand, is a shameless gossip. So I hope you’re not too bothered if you come home and see her peeking at you from her door.”
Simon hums a small laugh. “Don’t mind it. I’m not that interesting.”
“Pity. She’s been dying for a salacious neighbor since Beck moved out because her husband caught her with the nanny.” You quip instantly and amusement flits through Simon as you finally come to a stop in front of a dark green door. It’s quick work to unlock it and you push the door open, but don’t step inside. He likes that. It’s as if the second he signed the lease, this became his space and you won’t enter it until invited. “If you’d like to do me a favor and need some furniture, I have some in the basement from past tenants that I’d be glad to be rid of. Tell me if you’d like to look and I’ll take you. You have my number if you need anything else, but I’m usually around anyway.”
He enters the apartment and looks around at the empty space with a small sigh. It’s a good space with plenty of room and a view of the street below, but being in a new place feels like starting over. It’s a discomforting feeling given that nothing in his life has actually changed except for his address. But he turns towards you all the same and gives you another nod. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
You nod back and spare another moment to look him over. He’s not the first stray soldier that’s wandered into your building, but each one has been different. This one…this one might take quite a bit of coaxing. You give him another smile and see his body shift towards it just like he did the last time, as if your smile is sunlight he’s basking in. “Welcome home.”
*     *     *
The next time he sees you, you’re crouched on the stairs in front of a kid no more than eight-years-old. “It…hurts…” The little boy says between sobs with red smeared over his right knee. Probably from a nasty fall. Simon pauses on the next flight of stairs, looking down at you through the railing.
“Aw, yeah, I know it does. You’re being brave for me though.” Your voice is soft and gentle as you clean the blood away. “Bet that wimp Eric would be wailing this whole time, huh? Remember when he stubbed his toe and screamed for a minute straight?” There’s a little giggle and his heart squeezes at the sound.
The kid sniffles. “Yeah, I remember. He fell on the ground like he broke it or something.”
“That’s right.” You approve, smiling at him and reaching to the side where a first aid kit sits. “But I saw you play baseball and you didn’t even flinch when that pitcher hit you with the ball.”
“Yeah, that’s true. And that hurt!” The kid leans back a bit, relaxing as you distract him and I idly think about how many medics I’ve seen use the same tactic on wounded soldiers.
You finish cleaning up his knee and press a large band-aid to the ripped skin. “But you were so tough then and you were tough now. All done.” You muss his hair a bit and he giggles, slapping your hand away. “Now, what are we not going to do?”
The kid’s head droops. “Sprint up the stairs.”
“Smart kid. Now, wear that scrape with honor.” You tilt his chin up and he grins, sniffling again before leaning forward and giving you a hug.
“Thanks.” He squeezes tight before getting up and heading down the stairs at a slightly slower pace than running. A wait a moment as you pack up the things from your kit before heading down. Your head lifts and you smile at me, the same as the other day, and it strikes me just like it did then.
I clear my throat and tilt my head to where the kid went. “You seem to know everyone in this place.”
You hum and stand with the first aid kit in hand. “It’s my job to know everything that happens in this building.”
 He quirks a brow at you. “That’s not a position taken by most owners.”
“You should have easily learned by now that I’m not like most owners.” You quip instantly and are rewarded with a little upward twitch of his mouth.
“I was hoping you might have time to show me some of the furniture you mentioned?” He asks, unassuming and polite despite his size and clear musculature. It makes you like him a little more.
You nod and take a breath in the face of another task. “Sure. Let’s go.” You turn on your heel and start moving, Simon trailing behind with surprisingly soft footfalls. You jingle slightly with each step from the keys on your hip and he can’t help but think of a cat with a bell.
The basement is dark until you pull a heavy switch and illuminate a surprisingly large space littered with furniture. “Pick whatever you like and I’ll help you carry it up.”
“You ever stop working?” He asks and you can hear the amusement in his voice. You shrug a shoulder and lean against the wall beside the stairs as he slowly walks through the room.
“There’s always something to be done and no one else is going to do it.”
“You could hire people.”
You immediately roll your eyes. “Then I’d have to fix whatever they screw up. Better to do it myself and get it right the first time.” He exhales softly and you swear that it’s almost a soft laugh.
“You remind me of someone.” He says and pauses next to a little kitchen table with two chairs in pretty good condition.
Your head tilts and you give him a little smile as he glances over. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”
This time, you get an actual chuckle. “From me, it’s a compliment.”
“Hm. Then thank you.” You’re not sure you want to know why it would be an insult coming from someone else. He knocks on the table and the wood makes a dull, solid clunk noise. He nods and apparently that means it’s passed inspection. He lifts it up into his arms with a grunt and surprise widens your eyes as he carries it towards the stairs. You clear the way, grabbing the two chairs and staring at him as he bypasses the elevator in favor of more stairs without making a sound. It’s not exactly professional the way your eyes linger on his muscular arms, the shifting of his back under his t-shirt, and especially not how his thighs fit his jeans oh-so-well.
He grunts again as he sets the table down in his apartment and you sidle in to set the chairs on either side. There’s almost nothing else in the apartment. There are a few blankets and books in the bedroom along with a few cushions on the floor of the living room facing a tv. That’s it. He certainly isn’t one to overdecorate. “Anything else?” You offer with a hand on you hip.
He nods once. “Mind another trip?”
You smile and start walking to the door. “I’d be glad to empty out my entire basement if you like. Seems like you need it anyway.” The corner of his mouth lifts.
“I suppose that’s true. I appreciate the help.” He says and his voice is deep, but gentle. You only grow more curious about him and during the few more trips up and down the stairs, you realize that this guy might need a bit more than a little help with living.
*     *     *
It starts slow.
A few neighbors start bringing him some food throughout the week. Leftovers, baked goods, all under the guise of welcoming him to the building. Then there’s a small flyer set outside his door for an estate sale nearby where he finds a few more things to make his apartment less sparse. It’s a tad overbearing, but in an amusing way and he finds he doesn’t mind. Something about being aggressively looked after reminds him of Soap’s family and any thought of the Scot is a welcome one. He has little doubt that the interference is due to your instruction. You run this building better than most people in charge of the military.
His favorite spot in the apartment becomes the little window seat in the living room. It has a good view of the street and without fail, he gets a glimpse of you working in the flowerbeds in the front of the building. On the nicer days, he’ll even crack the window to hear you cussing at your rosebushes. But you’re a little quiet one day, moving slow, still working amongst the thorns in jean shorts and a tank-top dark with sweat. When you stand and wobble in place, he puts down the book he was pretending to read.
You heave a breath and wipe sweat off your brow before grabbing onto the railing leading into the building. Ugh, it’s hot. The sun is beating down like a physical weight and your sunhat is currently somewhere in Delaney’s apartment after her girlfriend borrowed it. Best to just bear the expense and get another one. “You run yourself ragged.” That deep voice disturbs your thoughts and your head lifts to see Simon standing there with a water bottle held out to you.
A soft laugh leaves your lips as you gratefully accept the water and settle on the steps. “Too much to do to stop. Thank you for this.” The bottle is blissfully cold as you press it to your neck and take a deep breath of relief.
Simon moves across from you and leans on the railing, looking you over. Something you’ve noticed is how careful he is to give you space. He never comes too close. “I’ve seen you running around the building at least three times today. Once unclogging the garbage chute, the second time greasing the hinges of a door down the hall, and the third—” He gestures to rosebushes you were just digging in.
You finish drinking half the water and raise a brow at him with a teasing glint in your eye. “Keeping track of me?”
His lips part, but he’s interrupted before he can say a word. “Sweetie, my air conditioner is on the fritz again.” An older woman peeks out of the front door and Simon recognizes Mrs. Cruz from across the hall. She scrutinizes him through her big glasses before blinking innocently back at you.
You sigh, but nod. “Alright, Mrs. Cruz. I’ll be there right away.” She shuffles back into the building while you heave yourself up onto your feet and your vision immediately goes black. It almost feels like you’re outside your body as you feel it sway backward before a large hand slides onto your lower back and another grips your arm. Your hand tightens on the railing as your eyes snap open, the world swimming in front of you.
“Steady, now.” A pair of concerned eyes are the first thing you see as your vision clears. “Let’s get you inside.” He moves closer and begins to stoop, but you grab his shirt in a fist.
“You are not picking me up.” You grind out, every word a command. Not in front of your building, not by a tenant, not with Mrs. Cruz waiting inside who would assuredly spread every type of rumor she could about the scene. “Just…walk inside with me.” He hesitates a beat before straightening and letting you use his arm and the railing to get back into the building. You shoot a smile towards Mrs. Cruz waiting exactly where you expected her. “I need my tools, but I’ll be along in just a minute.”
Her eyes squint, but she nods a moment later before vanishing into the elevator. “Slowly and steadily, then.” Simon murmurs with his hands gentle and sure as he moves you towards your office in the back. You hold your tongue despite the desire to insist that you do not need help because you very clearly do. Still, you can’t hold back your heavy sigh as you both slowly walk back and he helps you settle into your office chair.
“Thank you.” You murmur, pride a little wounded but ultimately grateful you didn’t have to crawl in here. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Then I’ll head up to help Mrs. Cruz.” Your head shakes as you make yourself drink the rest of your water while taking some steadying breaths.
“Unfortunate we’re not closer to my apartment. I’d give you something one of my neighbors gifted me earlier this week.” Simon comments with amusement lacing his tone. Maybe you weren’t as subtle about filling his pantry as you thought you were.
“I ate today. Just pushed a little too hard in the heat. That’s all.”
“Mm.” He hums, watching you from the doorway with the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “A habit of yours?”
You can’t resist returning his near smile. “Practically my occupation.”
He huffs a small laugh before clearing his throat as if trying to hide it. The fact makes you smile a little wider. “I’ll get you another water, then walk with you up the stairs.”
“Oh, there’s really no need—” But he’s already walked out. You sigh again, relaxing back into the chair and closing your eyes for a few moments. Time passes, a bit too long than it should have taken, but when you open your eyes there’s another water in front of you and no Simon. You feel a bit better and rise from your seat with a groan, grabbing your toolkit and heading up to Mrs. Cruz. But it’s an utter surprise when you get to her apartment to find the usual whir of her air conditioning uninterrupted.
“That handsome man across the hall had it fixed in a few minutes. Didn’t complain or say much other than asking what the problem was.” Mrs. Cruz reports with rare approval in her voice. Mr. Cruz grumbles quietly from his usual seat in his favorite armchair. You sigh and glance out the door towards Simon’s apartment with a hand on your hip and a half-smile. Seems you’re not the only one keen to help. Whether it’s asked for or not.
(Lmk if you want to be tagged in future installments of this!)
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greatstormcat · 3 months
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New Beginnings - Part 1
Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x f!reader
A/N: slowburn build up to a poly relationship that I know you all desperately want. This first part is completely SFW to set up the story line.
Series Masterlist
It rained the day you moved, rained really fucking hard. You hadn’t thought your mood could have been any worse but you were clearly the butt of some joke that the gods were playing. After finding out that your boyfriend had been cheating on you for six months with your best friend, you decided to move so you could start over, and it rained all day as you lugged your shit out of the beat up old rental van.
A close friend and recommended a place to you once your mind had been set on uprooting yourself. It was a house share with two friends of his, both in the army or something so they were hardly ever around. Apparently they had to live on base most of the time in case they had to up and leave at a moments notice any time of day. It sounded like a horribly chaotic existence to you, and you wondered why they bothered with a house off base if they had free accommodation, but it was all the better for you. The place was a good size, three bedrooms and plenty of space including a good sized garden out the back.
You hadn’t met the two men yet, your friend had arranged everything as they were both busy with some military thing or other, but they were happy to have someone in the place when they were away. He also had explained you worked from home, as you were an author, but didn’t go into what exactly you wrote.
Once the van was emptied you thanked your friend for helping and they took the old rental heap away, leaving you to get settled. It was late afternoon by the time you finished getting your boxes up to your bedroom, and you’d had a text from one of the guys to say they’d be home soon. They’d been friendly enough when you’d exchanged numbers, texting back and forth in a little group chat to let you know what was where, which room you should take and so on.
They’d let you have the master bedroom as it had its own en-suite bathroom, saying they didn’t want you to have to share the main bathroom with one of them. You hadn’t wanted to kick someone out of their room but Kyle had insisted, saying it was no problem at all. It was a nice room, your furniture fit perfectly and looked great with the neutral decor that was already there.
You couldn’t help yourself, and you sneaked a little look into the two other bedrooms to see if you could get a feel for these guys. There was not much to see, they kept everything very neat, you shouldn’t have been shocked by that though as they were professional soldiers. It was odd that one of the two rooms seemed completely bare though the bed was made up, only the larger guest room had anything on the bedside table and dresser.
As evening fell you made your way downstairs to the living room and rummaged around the kitchen, looking for a takeaway menu to order some dinner for everyone. You find a photo stuck to the fridge of four men posing in military uniform and armed to the teeth. It was safe to assume two of them were your new housemates so you leaned closer to look at them.
They were stood next to a vehicle, somewhere hot and sandy. You picked out Johnny and Kyle from the few photos you’d seen from them over text, but the other two you didn’t know especially as one of them was wearing a damned skull mask. You shiver as you look at the figure in the skull and turn away to resume your search.
After you find the handful of take away menus you head to the living room and settle down on the sofa to try and unwind.
You heard keys in the front door and got up to head to the hallway, and you stopped as you saw the man standing inside the entry. He placed a huge backpack on the floor, one you probably wouldn’t even be able to lift by the look of it, before turning to face you. You recognised him from the photo, dark skinned and handsome, and when he smiled a small scar in his cheek crinkled the skin below his eye.
“Oh hey, nice to finally meet you,” he smiled, shaking the water off his coat and hanging it up. “I’m Kyle, sorry we weren’t here to greet you properly.” The sheer size of him was more than you’d realised to start with, you’d thought he was wearing a bulky jacket but it turned out the bulk was all him.
“Uh yeah, nice to meet you too. Thanks for letting me move in like this, you’re rather brave letting someone you don’t know just move in like this,” you say and he smirks.
“We’ve been meaning to do this for ages,” he explains. “Having someone here when we’re away makes so much sense. It’s nice to have someone to come home to as well.” You feel heat creep up your chest and neck as he says this and you try to steady your thoughts. You remember the takeaway menus you found earlier and try to focus on that.
“I was going to order takeaway as a thank you, if you can recommend what’s good around here?”
“Thanks, Johnny will want Chinese so let’s do that or you’ll spend your first night here listening to him complaining,” Kyle says with a roll of his eyes. With that the door opens again and another, equally large, man walks in muttering about the weather until he turns and sees you with Kyle. The smile that spreads across his face is just as gorgeous as Kyle, and he removed his own coat to join you. Just as big and broad as Kyle, Johnny sported a strip of brown hair down the middle of his hair with short sides, and was pale skinned. He placed a thick arm over Kyle’s shoulders and smiled at you.
“Johnny, this is the new housemate we were expecting,” Kyle introduced you as you took in the sight of the pair.
“Oh, aye!” He grinned, his accent very apparent. “I forgot you were moving in today. Sorry the weather was so shite for it,” he says with a tilt of his head. you clear your throat, feeling stupid for feeling so incredibly self conscious standing in front of them both.
“So… Chinese food? Yes?” You ask trying to break the weird tension that’s shimmering in the air like summer heat. Johnny’s grin someone widens.
“Hell yeah,” he crows and you order the food, a lot of it. You hadn’t anticipated that feeding these two was like feeding a small army but when you looked at the amount of muscle on them both it made sense. A little while later the three of you were sat around the coffee table in the living room, eating and getting to know each other.
“So what was it you do for work again?” Kyle asks you, and you feel your stomach drop.
“I’m a writer,” you answer vaguely and stuff your mouth with egg fried rice as an excuse not to elaborate further. You don’t need them to know the sort of books you write on your first day in the house.
“Oh, what like books or journalism?” Johnny asks looking genuinely interested and you feel a warm heat creeping up your chest and neck. They both look at you expectantly, waiting politely for your answer.
“Books, but I’m not like… not famous or anything. They’re mainly romance novels,” you explain vaguely and they both nod. You stop holding your breath as they move the conversation to another topic, which is great because they don’t need to know you write quite explicit porn books the day you move in.
“What about you two? You’re in the army, yeah?” You ask with obvious interest. They’ve made a huge dent in the mountain of food you ordered and show no signs that they’ll be leaving anything uneaten, so they’re clearly very physical at work
“Aye, but it’s not as exciting as it sounds. It's lots of sitting around waiting to get orders, and drills in between the waiting,” Johnny tells you with a wink.
“Surely you get some excitement? You can’t tell me you don’t go jumping out of helicopters and exploding things,” you exclaim, and Kyle chokes a little on his food.
“Well,” Kyle shrugs, “we have our moments. Maybe we will tell you some stories another time.”
“I saw the photo on the fridge,” you say. “Are the other two your… colleagues?” You fumble, not knowing how to phrase the question. They both laugh at this.
“Teammates you mean?” Kyle corrects you. “Yeah, that was us in Urzikstan a while back. The other two are our Captain and Lieutenant.”
“Oh, so what rank are you two?” You ask, leaning forward as you find yourself fascinated, and trying to remember the details in case you want to use this in a book some time.
“Both Sargeants, hen,” Johnny supplies, and a fleeting thought skitters through your mind that you are probably going to see them both in uniform at some point while you live here. A distinct warmth spreads through you at that thought, and something must have shown in your face as the two men share a quick glance, but are kind enough not to say anything as you duck your head down and focus on your food.
After the meal you relax and watch some TV. You sit in an armchair, and the two men sit together on the sofa. You try not to make it obvious how you watch them, as Kyle leans back and Johnny rests comfortably back against his under his arm. They both stretch out their long, thickly muscled legs onto the coffee table and look as though they do this a lot. They almost look like a couple but your friend told you they were both single guys which is confusing.
“So, we heard you moved because of a break-up?” Kyle asks carefully, looking over at you. “Was that a mutual thing or….?”
You huff out a snort of frustration as you think back to the break-up, it hadn’t been pleasant.
“He was seeing my best friend behind my back for months. I ended it when I found out, he wasn’t happy about it. Things had been rocky for a long time to be honest, I should have seen it coming as he was getting more and more distant,” you tell them.
“Well I see why you wanted a fresh start, that’s no man to treat you like that, and no friend either,” Johnny says with a frown, and you notice a very slight twitch in Kyle’s arm behind his head, almost a possessive tightening. Something in your chest tightens as you see it, you remember when you ex would do things like that back when you first started seeing each other.
You don’t realise that your eyes have begun to well with tears until Johnny suddenly moves forward to crouch beside you, your breath hiccups as you fight down a sob, refusing to shed anymore tears over that son of a bitch. Kyle moves over as well, as Johnny places a large hand on your thigh and squeezes gently, a reassuring and grounding gesture.
“Don’t worry about him now, he treated you like shit and you did the right thing getting out of there,” Kyle tells you softly, placing his hand on your arm. Their combined presence is reassuring and warm, grounding and protective, and you find yourself softening and smiling at them both.
“I know, I am doing everything I can to move on. It’s been a couple of months since it happened,” you sigh and stand up from the armchair. “I’m going to call it a night, it’s been great finally meeting you both.” You give them both a weak smile, hating that you’ve just been so close to crying in front of these two huge guys the first day in the house with them.
“Hey, dinnae worry,” Johnny tells you. “We’ve all been in bad relationships at some point, it all works out in the end. Trust me, lass,” he says with a grin, “you’ll find the right lads soon enough.” Kyle suddenly clears his throat and chimes in.
“Yeah, you’ll find someone who treats you the right way soon enough,” he says with an odd glance at Johnny. There’s an odd tension between them suddenly, but you’re too tired to work out if it’s something you said. You make your excuses and head up to your room to change for bed.
As you settle in you replay in your head what they had both said about finding the right someone who valued and cared for you. As you lie in the dark under your covers you hear them coming up the stairs and talking quietly.
“…she seems really nice, I mean really nice. Ya ken?” You hear Johnny saying quietly. Kyle murmurs something back but his deep voice doesn’t carry as clearly for you to hear what he says. Whatever it is Johnny chuckles in a way that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine followed by a shushing from Kyle, and you continue to eavesdrop as they move around. Finally you hear their voices disappearing and a door click shut. Slowly you fall asleep wondering how this next chapter of your life will play out.
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da-rulah · 2 months
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Hello :)
I would love to request the Papas with a s/o who is basically a Disney Princess with animals and is constantly bringing home something new and unusual. Like ducklings in the bathtub or baby opossums in the dresser drawers. They think they get used to it until they bring something new and unusual, forever keeping them on their toes.
This is such a cute idea. 🥹 I've given it some thought, and I hope you enjoy!
Primo
It started when he found you hiding a stray puppy in one of his sheds. There was no way he could ever be mad at you; he wonders why you'd hidden it from him to begin with.
He'd given you the space to nurse the puppy and watched on with a softness in his eyes. This was one of those things he loved about you; your soft gentility.
One morning, he found you in the same shed with a box full of newborn fox cubs. They'd been abandoned, and you couldn't leave them out in the cold...
Primo relented easily, smiling to himself and offering to help.
This continued - filling the shed with animals you kept finding in need. They seemed magnetised to you. It astounded Primo...
He surprises you one day, having emptied the old shed of any of his gardening supplies and instead, asking the Ghouls to build you your own little animal sanctuary.
He figured you needed a less cluttered, cleaner and friendlier space for all your little rescues.
Secondo
He tries to argue with every new animal you bring home, but you've already overrun your shared quarters with three rabbits, two ferrets, a wounded crow and a raccoon
That raccoon was the last damn straw; they were supposed to be vicious! You couldn't keep that here?
But the thing just sat around blinking at him, eating scraps most of the time.
He grumbled and groaned about it like an unexpected new father would.
But you come home from your duties one evening and find him knelt at the edge of the bathtub, shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows, cigarette between his lips as he coos and whispers to the ferrets who are playing in the water beneath him.
The rest of your furry friends are surrounding him, avoiding the water but calmly enjoying his company too.
He looks so soft, fussing over all of them as if he hadn't been grumbling over their very existence.
"See, you do love them," you smirked, leaning against the door frame.
"Amore, I would kill or be killed for them. But no more..." he told you sternly.
He was not going to like what was waiting for him in the living room.
Terzo
Total enabler.
He becomes aware of your little obsession very early in the relationship and his favourite little trick, is to tell you "you only got one? But it'll be lonely" and give you puppy dog eyes.
Obviously, you cave every time, finding friends for your rescues.
Your apartment is like Noah's fucking Ark - two by two of everything.
He loves it though, and insists that you name the first, he name the second, every time.
He must say, the weirder the animals get, the more difficult life in your quarters becomes but hey, he likes the challenge.
He figures that soon enough he'd be able to open up "Papa's Petting Zoo" for the Ministry children.
He does indeed make a joke to you about Papa's "Heavy Petting Zoo" that was saved for you and you alone. He couldn't resist.
Copia
He started it.
He had two rats when you first started dating, but he just kept bringing them home with him.
And so then, every time you came across a rat that needed shelter, you would bring that little guy home to an ever-growing adoptive family.
Copia's face would light up every time, and together you'd spend the entire evening brainstorming names.
Eventually the enclosures you had for them had to keep getting bigger and bigger, until eventually, your apartment was overrun and their enclosure was the entire living room space.
Neither one of you minded of course, happy to give them the freedom they desired.
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cosmowes · 29 days
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100 things to try
getting off the phone can be hard. i find that i’m only ever motivated to do it when there’s something else to do. so! here are those things, dollie.
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hobbies:
collecting (figurines, blind boxes, vinyls, books…)
2. embroidery
3. thrift flips / diying clothes
4. jewelry making
5. kandi
6. collage making
7. painting
8. sketching
9. start an album list
10. thrifting
11. baking (w/o the box mix !!)
12. cooking
13. origami
14. doll customization
15. making stuffed animals
16. building models
17. clay sculpting
18. customizing shoes
19. dancing
20. yoga
21. pilates
22. singing
23. learn an instrument
24. skating (skateboard, roller skating/blading, ice skating)
25. biking
26. hiking
27. jogging/running
28. doing nails
29. doing hair
30. building costumes/cosplays
31. soapmaking
32. play dnd
33. writing
34. poetry
35. web design
36. character design
37. graphic design
38. font design
39. make short films
40. make bath bombs
41. start tutoring people
42. join a new club
43. start a book club w/ friends
44. read a play
45. write a play
46. go see a play (support small theatres!!! wooh)
47. journaling
48. programming
49. design clothes
50. crochet
halfway through… ps, if you’ve had the energy to scroll this, you have the energy to start one. pick your battles!
51. knitting
52. cross stitch
53. beading
54. learn solitaire
55. typing
56. learn cursive
57. start learning a language
58. make a dreamcatcher
59. start making smoothies
60. take cute notes
61. photography
62. climb a tree!!!
63. swimming
64. press flowers
65. get a pen pal
66. make tea (the nice kind)
67. make coffee (same as above)
68. make bookmarts
69. annotate books
70. jigsaw puzzles
71. crosswords
72. sudokus
73. word searches
74. quilting
75. make perfume
76. make lightboxes
77. skincare
78. making jams
79. whittling
80. carpentry
91. tie dye
92. archery
93. axe throwing
94. martial arts
95. making ornaments
96. music writing
97. terrariums
98. gardening
99. scrapbooking
100. pottery
138 notes · View notes
practicalsolarpunk · 3 months
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Hello I was wondering if you had any advice for solar punk dwellers that live in apartments. I always see all these cool add-ons to houses to make life more sustainable, but a lot of them I can't really do while living in an apartment. Also my apartment is fully indoors so it doesn't have a balcony where I can put stuff outside. However, I have started an indoor garden.
Hi! Indoor gardening is a fantastic place to start. Beyond that, it can really depend on what you're interested in. If gardening is really your thing, see what kind of gardening resources are around! Is there a community garden in your area that you could participate in? Would your apartment complex be interested in letting you start a garden for the complex? (They may be more interested than you might think - it's an amenity they can promote to future tenants, it engages current tenants, and they don't have to pay for landscaping on the area you turned into a garden.) If you have a lot of gardening experience, are there people in the area who want to learn that you could work with? If you're new to gardening, is there someone in your local Food Not Lawns group who would be willing to teach you more in exchange for some work on their garden?
Speaking of Food Not Lawns, see what other groups are around in your area that you could get involved in. Food Not Bombs, Freecycle, and Buy Nothing are other good groups to look for. There's also likely groups specific to your area - you may be able to find them by searching on Facebook, but more likely by connecting with other people at one of these bigger groups and asking.
Beyond that, I highly recommend cooking, mending and sewing (see our #mending, #mend and make do, and #sewing tags), and building some community. Meet your neighbors and get to know them! (I love cooking as a vehicle for this - humans often bond over food, and bringing over cookies or inviting them to share some homemade soup is a great way to connect.) You could start a free pantry in your apartment complex or building, or talk about a tenants' union. You can also try similar stuff at work, like a Breakroom Free Box. If politics is more your speed, you can do some activism (see our #activism tag) or even get involved with local political organizations and push them to be more progressive. Especially in local politics, one person can make a big difference.
For more ideas, we also have the following tags:
#apartment solarpunk
#dorms and small spaces
#community building
#mutual aid
#fiber crafts
#diy
I'd also encourage you to check out this post and this post, which are previous answers to similar questions.
I hope this gives you some places to start. If you have more specific questions, feel free to send in another ask!
- Mod J
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humanpurposes · 1 month
Text
It Will Come Back
Chapter 3, Broken Bonds
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Two sides of a family fight for their own claims to the Targaryen inheritance. Amongst the endless infighting, forced pleasantries and PR scandals, Jaya Velaryon finds herself face to face with a demon of her past, namely Aemond Targaryen. Love and hate are not emotions easily unlearned.
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
Aemond Targaryen x Jaya Velaryon (OFC)
Warnings: 18+, dark elements, targcest (uncle x niece relationship) toxic family dynamics, angst, mentions of violence and trauma
Words: 7.4k
A/n: Also available to read on AO3, if you're that way inclined.
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Now…
The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity. 
His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at a laptop screen as they check over some details for next week’s event.
It’s not often Aemond finds himself in his brother’s office. Technically Aegon is his superior, ‘deputy operations manager’ according to the golden plaque on the door. This is more of a courtesy title because he couldn’t get a respectable job anywhere else, and it would be far worse for their father’s image to have a layabout son.
That’s the funny thing about the family business. It’s no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn’t want his sons involved in Dragon Bank, but his influence is not as all encompassing as he would like to believe, not since the Hightowers got a foot in the door thirty or so years ago… then another… then another. Viserys can make his demands and shout when he’s angry enough, but there is one truth he cannot deny; he needs them. He needs Otto. He needs Alicent. He needs Helaena and Daeron to stay perfect. He needs Aegon to not be a fuck up and that’s enough. And he needs Aemond because he’s good at his job. No one has an eye for detail like him, no one can make sense out of figures or persuade clients and investors like he can.
Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.
Their father has been planning this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to the rest of Westeros that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens. So there can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.
Aemond’s eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan for the main ballroom.
Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.
He’s hardly heard that name, read it, or heard it in six years. He can already feel a dull ache creeping into his skull, which he knows will catch like kindling and soon become a burning, blinding pain behind the space where his eye should be.
Aegon, completely oblivious, huffs a little laugh to himself. “Shit, yeah, I meant to say there was an update with the seating. So this could turn out to be quite interesting– fuck, are you alright?” 
“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”
“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.
The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease. He has no choice but to endure it.
He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it. A glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.
“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”
When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in my office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.
“I can go and get you some–”
“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move. 
He can handle this. Every time this kind of pain flares up he thinks of how much it hurt that night, how terrified he was as he felt the blood gushing from the gash in his eye, slipping through his fingers. The pain had been so great he thought it might kill him. If he can get through that night, the first few hours in the hospital, the months of recovery or the years since, then he can get through a fucking headache. 
He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face, the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.
“Is it… you know,”
Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again? 
Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.
“I thought you knew,” Aegon says. “Mum said she was going to talk to you.”
“Evidently that conversation is yet to happen.” Maybe it was meant to happen tonight. It’s a Friday which means Aemond will go to his mother’s apartments in the Keep for dinner after work.
It’s a struggle but he breathes through the worst of it, and blinks a tear from his eye. The pain hasn’t quite faded but something else burns hotter through his blood. He clenches his jaw and his fists. “How long have you known?”
Aegon makes a startled stuttering noise. “I– well–”
Aemond glares at him.
“A few days. The note came from Rhaenyra’s office on Monday or Tuesday, I can’t really remember–”
“Grandfather knew,” Aemond says, a question, but he can guess the answer. If it involves Dragon Bank or a member of the Targaryen family, Otto Hightower will know.
“Of course he knew. He said it was a last minute decision, one that Viserys was insisting we all bend over backwards to accommodate.”
Of course he would, anything for the precious daughter of his favourite child, the girl who slashed Aemond’s eye out with a broken bottle. 
He hates her for it. He hates every burst of pain, like an echo of that moment pulsing through his head. He hates every person he catches staring at him, he hates the way his reflection looks with her cruelty carved into his flesh. Most of all he hates that it reminds him of her. In a way he is grateful too. Time helped to heal the wound and eventually he realised how he had been changed by that night, how it made him the person he is now. 
But for the first time in a long time he does not find any pride in it, cowering in his brother’s office like a child at the mere mention of her name. 
“I can’t go,” Aemond says, hating how quiet his own voice is.
“That’s alright,” Aegon says, “you can sit here for as long as you need.”
“I meant the party.”
“Oh right, sorry.”
“I can’t go, not if she’s going to be there.”
There’s a long silence, filled only by the hum of the AC and the distant sounds of the city far below the keep, car horns, engines, sirens, the occasional cry of a seagull.
“Why don’t you talk it through with mum?”
“Aegon,”
“She’ll want you to go. She’ll be upset if you don’t.”
“I can’t,”
“I know you two were close, but, you know, I’m sure you both regret how things happened,” 
“Aegon, for fuck’s sake,”
“She cut out your eye, you said you’d cut out hers if you ever saw her again, we were all caught up in the moment.”
Aemond pushes up from the sofa and tosses the water bottle at Aegon’s head, not stopping to see if he caught it or not, before he’s yanking open the door and marching into the hallway.
The Red Keep is older than Dragon Bank itself, a red brick holdfast that has loomed proudly over King’s Landing for centuries, even as the skyline of the city has come to meet over time. It’s easy to get lost here, with its grand hallways, winding staircases and hidden passages, if old rumours are to be believed. He knows this place like he knows his own mind. He walks to his office through empty stairwells and forgotten corridors.
When he finally makes it to his own office he closes the door and lets his back fall against it.
He takes a slow breath, holds it, pouts his lips and exhales steadily. 
Who else knows? Viserys would have sent the invitation, Rhaenyra and the rest of her little runts will know. Otto knows, clearly his mother and Aegon both know, and he couldn’t have kept that secret, he would have told Helaena or Daeron, most likely both.
Everyone knows. Jaya is coming back home to King’s Landing, and everyone knows but him.
His mother told him everything when she thought he was ready to hear it. The bandages had been removed from his face and the cannula had been taken out of his hand. The doctors wanted him to stay in the hospital for a few more days so all the drugs could wear off and he could start getting used to the disorientation of losing half his vision. Alicent wanted him home, in his own bed. So he left the dry air and the white overhead lights of his room in the hospital, back to Dragonstone.
She told him that while he’d been on his knees with his hand over his face, trying to stop the blood and the remains of his eye from spilling onto the ground, Viserys had barked out his orders. He didn’t want ambulances or sirens because it would cause a scene in front of the guests. The shame, the damage it would do to the family’s image. Otto had persuaded him away from such a nonsensical idea and convinced Viserys to get the guests inside the house so Aemond and Jace’s injuries could be seen to.
He remembered shouting and sirens, blue lights and his mother’s hand clinging onto his before he blacked out. He had gone in for surgery almost immediately and woken the following evening surrounded by white walls, his mother and Criston Cole at his side.
Aegon, Helaena and Daeron all stayed at Dragonstone while he was there. They said once he and Jace had been taken away, Viserys had gathered the entire family inside the house. With their faces all still red from crying and Jaya’s pretty white dress still coated in blood, he demanded to know the truth. 
They all knew what the truth was. Jace didn’t know his limits and Aegon didn’t care about his.
He could see it all happening in his head, walking towards the orchard with Jaya and Baela, catching Jaya when she tripped over a stone, her tipsy smile as she looked up at him, the pearl and the sapphire pendant settled against her chest.
Who knows what started the argument between Jace and Aegon, but suddenly Aemond had found himself between them.
“There he is,” Jace had sneered, but his voice quickly raised into a shout, “‘perfect’ Aemond Targaryen, fucking mummy’s boy, thinking he’s some kind of fucking diplomat!”
Aegon tried to shout back, “more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Aemond couldn’t make out everything through the way his voice slurred.
“Not so fucking perfect though, are you? You’re no worse than Aegon– no! You’re so much worse, aren’t you? Aren’t you!?
He’d watched Jace’s expression darken, his lips sneering into a sickening smile.
“You’ve got my sister wrapped around your fucking finger, fucking creep.”
He told himself Jace was just drunk. It didn’t matter what he thought… only it did. Jace could tell Rhaenyra or Viserys. Worse, he could talk to Jaya. She had always been devoted to her twin. She had picked Jace over Aemond before, in petty arguments when they were children. 
“You want her, don’t you? Don’t you!? She’s too good for you though, and you know it. You want her but you’ll never fucking have her!”
When Aemond’s fist collided with Jace’s jaw it was on pure instinct. He was sober enough to stop himself but he didn’t. He just kept going.
According to Aegon, when Viserys came to Jaya, she said that it was Aemond who had started the argument. Jace was in the orchard with the others, when Aemond had come from nowhere and threw the first punch. She had seen it, so had Baela, so had Luke and Joffrey. It was their word against Aegon and Daeron’s.
The official story was that it had been a tragic accident, one in which Rhaenyra’s children were certainly blameless.
She called him the night he got to Dragonstone but he let the phone ring. A week later she appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. She was hazy, or he was still delirious from sleep, his mother hovering over her shoulder, reluctant to leave them alone together.
He doesn’t remember most of the conversation now. He doesn’t want to remember it. He knows it ended with tears streaming down her cheeks, but her face was completely still. She didn’t flinch, didn’t distort her face, scrunch her nose or make an ugly shape with her mouth. She looked utterly beautiful and cried effortlessly. It wasn’t fair when he still had stitches sewn into his flesh to keep the left half of his face in place.
At one point she approached the bed and tried to touch his hand. He snatched it out of her grasp. When she tried again he pushed her away.
“Why did you do it?” she said. “You attacked Jace, why? Why? Why? Why?”
Because Jace could have taken away the one thing he thought was his, by right, by love. Instead he gave some bullshit excuse– Jace had threatened Aegon, insulted Daeron, insulted him. And what did it matter anyway? Viserys believed her. 
He needed her. He needed her and she pushed him away and cradled her coward of a brother in her arms. He needed her and she’d thrown it all back in his face with a slash of a broken bottle. He needed her, but she had made her decision.
“Liar,” he hissed. “You’re a fucking liar.”
He saw it in her face then, her desire to fight melting away. To Aemond that had always meant that she knew he was right.
“Show up here again, utter so much as a word to me again, and I’ll tear yours out as payment for mine.”
Some weeks later Aegon mentioned that she had abandoned her plans to go to KLU and instead found a place at the University of Pentos. She never tried to call after that and neither did he.
A layer of sweat clings to his skin and makes him shiver. He shrugs it off as he sits down at his desk, and spots a handwritten note sitting beside the keyboard of his laptop. Investment figures for Seasnake Shipping back to me by 7pm at the latest. Knowing Otto Hightower, that means an hour before the specified time.
In for three, hold for three, out for three. It always amazes him how well that trick works, he thinks as he takes out a packet from the top drawer of his desk and pushes out two tablets, the one good thing he’d gotten out of his year of therapy. He swallows the medication dry, suddenly regretting throwing away the bottle of water.
It’s nearly 6pm when Aemond has everything his grandfather wants, the names of Seasnake’s investors, the other companies they’re attached to, numbers and details he’s found buried in endless spreadsheets and pages of paperwork. He shouldn’t be able to see most of them but he has his ways. The Velaryons have been in business with the Targaryens for centuries and there are always trails to follow. 
A few familiar names appear, Rhaenyra Tagrayren, Daemon Targayren, married to each of Corlys’ children. Aemond was only a year old when his sister married Laenor, but he’s always known how sceptical his mother and grandfather were of the match. It wasn’t something Rhaenyra had to do. She wasn’t going to inherit Seasnake, that had been promised to Laena, the elder sibling, and she was already Viserys’ chosen heir, so what did she think she was going to get out of it? Not a loving husband, surely.
Other investors and partners include the names Stark and Arryn, both wealthy and well established families. He also sees the names Celtigar, Massey, Bar Emmon, old names, though not as respected as they once were.
He leaves a note for his grandfather at the top of the document: Seasnake is being directed by a man who built his wealth to match his own pride, supported by opportunists with more money than sense.
With that task done he opens a new email to inform his father’s office that he’ll be absent from the event. He types it quickly and reads over it once before he can talk himself out of pressing send. He doesn’t give a reason why; Viserys should know why.
This leaves him just enough time to pack up and get ready for dinner.
The Red Keep has a series of apartments separated from the offices, where Aemond spent most of his childhood. The building is known as the Holdfast, with its own gatehouse leading into the city and gardens surrounded by high red brick walls. Historically it was built to house the extensive members of House Targaryen, but it is mostly empty now. His mother has had her own apartment for a few years, since Daeron moved out. The only one of his siblings to still live here now is Aegon, at Alicent’s insistence. 
Walking from his office to the Holdfast brings him through courtyards and underneath old battlements, until he comes to a facade with towers, tall windows and an unsuspecting wooden door, save for the armed guards standing either side of it. His mother’s apartments are on the first floor, along a gallery and up the grand staircase, past portraits and tapestries. The hallways get smaller the further in you go and soon he comes to the private rooms.
Alicent often dismisses the staff on quiet Friday evenings. The minute he’s in the door he is met with the sound of one of her 80s playlists, the scent of spices and her favourite lemon and lavender candles. He finds her in the kitchen, dark blue jeans, a white shirt, black pumps and her auburn curls pulled into a bun to show off her pearl earrings, stirring two pots on the stove. 
“Criston’s got me learning another one of his recipes,” she says, only looking at him for a moment, “I’ve got rice on too, so I hope you’re hungry.”
Aemond approaches her to kiss her on the cheek and takes a look inside the pots, one filled with chickpeas, the other with black lentils. “Is Aegon here?” he says.
“He’s in the lounge, tell him to set the table.”
Aemond watches her, entirely absorbed in the notebook on the counter next to the stove, with handwritten instructions. Nothing seems to be especially bothering her, even though the centenary event has had her on edge for over a month. She looks no different from the last time he saw her, before he knew about Jaya, when she was supposed to talk to him, supposedly.
“I want a drink first,” he says, whisky with no ice. He pours it for himself slowly while his mother hums along to Tears for Fears. “Do you know why grandfather wanted that information on Seasnake’s investors?” 
“Hmm? Oh he’s probably doing one of his checks, you know what he’s like. Good to keep an eye on everyone,” she says. She has a glass of red wine next to the notebook, though by the looks of it she’s hardly touched it. “He said something interesting about Rickon Stark recently, his son Cregan is in King’s Landing.”
Aemond pulls his glass away from his lips, the sweet sting of alcohol slipping down his throat. “Shouldn’t be too unusual, they’re attending next week.” Staying at Dragonstone no less, some of Viserys’ most honoured guests.
“He’s staying at Queen’s Lodge.”
That takes him by surprise. “Hmm,” he says, bringing the glass to his lips again.
“He and Jacaerys are quite close, Aegon tells me.”
The Starks had visited Dragonstone once or twice as summer guests, back when they were all kids. Cregan was always talkative and effortlessly charming, but it was obvious to Aemond that his warmth was far more calculated than anyone else believed. He made sure Jaya kept her distance, but Jace followed him around like a lost puppy for the weeks he’d stay with their family.
They would have studied together at White Harbour, though Cregan was a few years older than Jace. They could have met again and reconnected. Aemond doesn’t interact with his nephew outside of necessity.
“And what would Aegon know about it?” he says.
“More than you,” a voice calls from the doorway. Aegon has ditched his suit for brown cargos and a comically baggy sports shirt, leaning against the frame. “Ran into them last weekend,” he says, grinning coldly and running his tongue over his teeth. “The Starks are making some close personal connections with our sister’s family.”
“Don’t be vulgar,” Alicent sighs.
Aegon scoffs and makes a dismissive gesture. While their mother is still distracted, he looks at Aemond and raises his eyebrows. 
“Set the table, Aegon,” Aemond grumbles.
His brother does as he’s told. Aemond helps Alicent bring the dishes in. She sits at the head of the table, Aemond to her right, Aegon opposite him, to her left. She says a quick prayer to the Seven, as she always does. She asks the Mother to protect her children and asks the Crone for wisdom, for a light in dark and uncertain times. 
“Speaking of close personal connections,” Aegon says, already having wolfed down half of his plate. Aemond already hates the tone of this conversation. “We’ll finally get to meet Daeron’s new bit,”
“Do you have to say it like that?” Aemond says.
Aegon ignores him. “Are you excited to meet Nettles, mother?”
Daeron talks about her constantly. They met in Oldtwon while they were both studying. Now he’s working for the Citadel Institute, she’s some kind of journalist, and they live together in a perfect little flat that looks out over the Honeywine river. Perfect, perfect, perfect.
“That can’t actually be her name, surely?” Alicent says.
“Perhaps it’s short for something,” Aemond says, prodding his food now to find himself with no appetite. He thinks about the drive he’ll have to make through the city, back to the empty house waiting for him on Silverwing Square.
“Nettles,” Aegon says, eyes on the ceiling like he’s trying to decipher a hidden meaning. “Nettles, like stinging nettles?”
“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent says, looking down at the uneaten food on his plate, “what happened with Maris Baratheon, why is she not on the final guest list?”
Aegon smiles, folding his elbows on the table and leaning forward, eager to hear an explanation like he hasn’t already coaxed it out of Aemond over too many bottles of wine at a steak restaurant on Conquest Street.
“Things didn’t work out with Maris,” Aemond says shortly. An understatement. The thought of their last conversation makes him nauseous.
“Aemond, sometimes I feel like you don’t love me.”
“I don’t think I do,” which felt untruthful, because he knew from the start that he never would. There were lots of things he liked about Maris. He liked that she was interested in him, he liked that she was blunt and unrelentingly honest, he liked that she had dark hair, and that she liked being fucked from behind and would let him press her face down into the pillow to muffle her moans. Soon the things he liked about her only felt like another reminder.
“Maris is old news, mother,” Aegon says.
“What a shame,” Alicent says, reaching for her wine again. “Oh well, I don’t think Viserys particularly likes her father anyway.”
“Well you know Aemond, always striving for perfection.”
Aemond’s eye meets Aegon’s over the table. His brother is trying not to grin, violet eyes bright from the light of the candelabra between them. Shadows catch on the hollow parts of his face, it makes him look tired but vicious. 
Then he looks to his mother. She eats slowly with small mouthfuls, not making eye contact with either of her sons. It’s not often he finds himself upset or angry with his mother, not since he was old enough to understand just how hard she has worked, or know what she’s had to put up with as the wife of Viserys Targaryen. Aemond knows she trusts him in a way that does not always extend to his siblings. 
But now all he can think is that she knows about Jaya. She knows, and she won’t even look at him.
Jaya could be in King’s Landing this very moment, lounging around Queen’s Lodge, looking out over the orchard she watered with Aemond’s blood while her mother fawns over her only daughter’s return.
He just needs to say it. He won’t go to Dragonstone if Jaya is there, he won’t stand to be in the same room as her, or breathe the same air as her. The thought already sends a feeling like flames licking up his spine that makes him restless with rage, with hurt and betrayal.
Aegon is still watching him and gives him a small nod. 
Aemond takes a soft breath through parted lips–
Until a sound comes from the hallway that makes them all freeze, the sound of the front door unlocking, opening, then slamming with an ear splitting bang!
Aemond feels his face harden, brows straining with every footstep that marches against the hardwood floors towards the dining room. 
Viserys appears in the threshold, dressed in one of his red and black suits, his face one of stone cold fury. He doesn’t look at Alicent, or Aegon, his eyes are fixed on Aemond.
He steps slowly into the room, placing one hand on the back of the chair closest to him at the head of the table, miles away from the rest of his family. His voice is quiet and clear through the stunned silence. “What the fuck are you playing at?”
Alicent makes a stuttering, scoffing noise. “Viserys–”
He holds up a finger to silence her, his eyes widening in warning. “Aemond,” he says, “you will answer me.”
Aemond keeps his jaw clenched at first. He can feel his teeth wanting to chatter, anger aching in every part of his body. He cannot afford to show any sign of weakness or remorse, not in front of his father. But why does it feel so difficult to speak? He swallows through a dry feeling in his throat. “I thought I’d worded it all very simply–”
“Look at me when I speak to you, boy.”
He hadn’t realised his gaze had fallen to the table. He looks up with an expression that is as passive as he can manage. “I would have thought it would be obvious why I can’t go, with the recent addition to the guestlist.”
His head is turned completely so that Viserys is in his line of vision, but he hears his mother make a small sighing sound. “Aemond, I was going to–”
“ALICENT!” Viserys roars.
Aemond feels himself flinch but his gaze is unwavering. Why does he think he has any right to barge in here, to ask anything of them? 
If Aemond were to stand he’d be taller than his father, but he finds himself unable to move.
“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” Viserys says to him. “This could be the single most important night for the family for centuries and you’re still holding onto childish grudges?”
Childish grudges. He was mutilated and forced to carry the blame because of a lie, but of course his father expects him to let go, to forgive and forget. 
He feels the leather of the eyepatch digging uncomfortably into his forehead and wishes more than anything he could just tear it off.
There are some things Aemond can argue with Viserys about, but they tend to be logical arguments, work related. The longer he looks at his father the more he remembers that no amount of sense could ever compare to the blind devotion Viserys has for his eldest child. There’s nothing Aemond can appeal to, not love or loyalty, not even sympathy.
“This is not about you, Aemond. This is about the bank, this is about the Targaryen name, our legacy, does that all mean nothing to you?”
“Of course it does,” Aemond says. He’s worked for nothing else his whole life, Dragon Bank, his heritage as a Targaryen, what is he without all of that? 
Viserys’ face softens a little, as if he thinks he’s made some kind of progress. “I’ve never known you to be selfish, it’s not in your nature.”
“Well then you clearly know nothing about me,” Aemond says, glaring up at him.
Viserys frowns. “You will be there, and I want to hear no more of it. You will be polite. You will grin and fucking bear it because that’s what the rest of us have to do.”
He’s delusional, he’s fucking delusional.
Aemond looks to his brother, slumped in his chair, his eyes even darker now. He has his hand around the stem of a wine glass. He’s been staring at the crimson liquid since their father walked in. He might have been expecting to be the target of Viserys’ anger tonight; he usually is. 
Aegon looks across at him, furious, exhausted, eager for this exchange to be over. He tilts his head in a questioning motion, though his lips stay firmly sealed.
All the years he spent trying to be the best that he could, how hard he pushed himself to get through that final year at KLU while recovering from his injury, all the hours he’s devoted to the family business, all the times he’s kept his mouth shut and his head held high, is this the hill Aemond is going to die on?
He won’t try to look at his mother, but he can guess she would have a similar reasoning. 
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A fearsome wind from the Narrow Sea howls against the windows of Aemond’s black Jag. The road to Dragonstone is a desolate one, leading through a forest that might as well be nothingness in the dark. The headlights beam against the tarmac which turns and rises and falls, so he can never see what’s ahead of him.
There’s a burst of light as he approaches the gates. He hasn’t seen the gatehouse for years and remembers that he used to be scared of the stone dragon heads that stand open mouthed and teeth bared on either side, at the base of the turrets. Some hired security guard comes to his window, his demeanour changing completely when Aemond glares at him through a single eye. 
Cars line the acres of grass before the house, the driveway lined with lanterns and more statuettes of dragons. Dragonstone lies ahead in its full glory, lights on in every window, moonlight shining upon its ancient walls so the castle looms in shadows and silver. 
He must be one of the last people to arrive, the last of the important people, slotting the Jag next to a golden Dodge Charger he recognises as Aegon’s. The rest of the Targaryens all drive black cars.
He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror for as long as he can stand to look at himself, glaring at the blunt edges of the sapphire in his left socket, dull and dark in the low light. The flesh around his eyelids are twisted and red, the scar itself deep but clean. His mother had suggested they could get it looked at, to make his eye seem less severe, but that’s what the eyepatch is for, to cover up the worst of his injury, for the comfort of others and not his.
He slips the leather patch over his head and secures it in place, careful not to mess up his hair in the process. 
One day he’ll make her look at it, the sapphire and the scar, maybe then she’ll understand what she put him through. Not tonight, no, tonight he intends to play it safe.
He effortlessly exits the car, checking his cuffs as he walks up to the front doors. A server offers him a glass of champagne when he steps into the entrance hall which he takes a small sip from, parched after his drive from King’s Landing. He knows his way through the opulent halls that have stayed the same for as long as he can remember, towards the hum of at least a hundred voices. 
The ballroom glimmers with reflected light, mirrors, gold accents, crystal chandeliers, champagne glasses. The guests are all in their finery, tuxedos and floor length gowns, either in black or the colours of their houses. Some have started to take their seats around the circular tables, but many are still mingling.
Any head of silver hair stands out rather obviously, and the first he sees is his father standing in the centre of the ballroom, a smile on his face and his arm around his wife’s waist. Alicent is radiant in a gold gown that catches the warmth of the candles dotted about the room. She looks less than pleased being made to talk to Rhaenyra and Laenor– now there’s a surprise, he doesn’t usually make a habit of appearing at family events. Rhaenyra is in black, as is her husband, with a waistcoat embroidered with swirling gold patterns, like waves on the sea.
His eye continues to scour the room. He sees Helaena and Daeron with the girl he assumes is Nettles. He sees Aegon getting friendly with the Martell siblings. He sees Corlys and Rhaenys with Laena and Daemon. He sees Jacaerys standing with the Starks, closer than is friendly to Cregan. He sees those with the surnames Tyrell, Tully, Lannister, Arryn, all the others, and keeps searching.
She’s not where she’s meant to be, at the table closest to the high table where Viserys will sit with the board members. She’s not with her parents, she’s not at the bar, she’s not at the doors to the gardens. Each moment he does not find her fuels some kind of fire within him, adrenaline pumping through his blood, like he’s chasing something just out of his reach. 
A flash of loose, dark hair steals his attention. He doesn’t see her face at first but he notices when she nudges his shoulder as she passes him on his blind side, very nearly ending up with champagne down her silky, off white gown or spilled across the string of pearls sitting on her bare collar.
He apologises on instinct, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket that has only ever been intended as decorative.
“No harm done,” the woman insists. “It’s good stuff, I would have been mortified to waste any of it.”
He recognises her face, the slanted nose, the sharpness of her cheeks, her bright green eyes and unsettlingly perfect smile. He’s seen her at press events, some kind of relation to the Strongs, but not close enough that she’d ever be invited to any personal occasions.
“Alys Rivers,” she says, holding out a hand for him to shake. “Deputy editor for Seven.” He’s heard of it, a high society gossip magazine, they often run stories about his family, Daemon and Aegon mostly, the rest of them clearly aren’t newsworthy.
“You used to work for the Harrenhal Observer, didn’t you?” he says.
“I did,” she says, “between you and me though, I think cousin Larys felt a little threatened.”
“Threatened?” Aemond says, noticing a pair of girls who are oddly familiar to him. He can’t place their names but he thinks they might be old friend’s of Jaya’s. They approach Jace, turning their heads around frequently like they’re looking for something. “How so?”
“He thought I was too opinionated,” Alys says, keeping her eyes on his.
“I didn’t think there could be such a thing,” Aemond says, though now he thinks he recognises the girls from one of the parties at Maegor’s Square, from years ago. One of them meets his gaze and quickly looks away. 
“The Observer is supposedly a neutral publication after all, I had a few things to say about the working conditions at the Casterly Rock mines which caused quite a stir.”
That’s where he recognises her name from. Viserys wasn’t happy with the article given their ties to the Lannisters and their gold. It sets off a silent alarm in his head, suddenly her gaze is a little too scrutinising for his liking and he’s aware of every breath he takes, shallow or deep, soft or sharp, she could use anything against him.
“I heard a rumour you weren’t going to be attending tonight’s event,” she says.
“It’s Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary,” he says, “I’m incredibly proud of all the work my family has put into the last five hundred years.”
“You say that like you’re expecting this conversation to go to print.”
“That’s why you approached me, is it not?”
She hums a gentle laugh to herself as her gaze roams over his suit, black, simple and perfectly fitted. She looks back to his face, he sees the way her eyes flicker to his left side. She smiles lazily in a way that makes him wonder if she’s trying to flirt, and places a hand on his shoulder, leaning in closer until he can smell the classic, musky scent of her perfume. He lets her do it, lets her lips get closer to his ear.
“I only wanted to see if you had something interesting to say,” Alys whispers over the noise of the party.
He glances up, towards the grand fireplace at the end of the room. Gold plated engravings of dragons intertwine and spread their wings, framing the fire that burns within.
She’s standing there, a glass of champagne in one hand, in an emerald green dress suited for summer, loose fabric, exposing her arms, her hair pulled up into a style that’s effortlessly elegant.
Their eyes meet. It’s like electricity strikes his heart.
Six years fades into oblivion, she looks different and exactly the same. He can almost believe he’s never known a life without her, but she’s always been there, hasn’t she? An unspoken secret, living in the lightest and the darkest parts of his mind. 
He can see the moment of recognition, when her expression goes from passive and proud to alert, eyes widening, lips falling, her hand lowering the glass to the nearest surface.
It’s dangerous how quickly he can already feel himself start to slip. He’s had seven days to prepare and part of him is still in disbelief that Jaya is a living, breathing person and not just a memory. Another part of him is calm and unsurprised, like he’s always known she was going to come back. To King’s Landing, to the family business, to him.
He doesn’t feel any pain, not in his head or his chest, but he feels empty, starved to the point of ravenous. 
Jaya starts to move through the crowd, towards the glass doors that lead to an outlook over the gardens and the sea. It only sparks excitement for Aemond, imagining all the thoughts that could be swimming through her head, anger, pride, fear. By the Seven he hopes one of those is fear.
“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”
“What?” he says, looking back to Alys.
“I thought I’d refresh my memory a little before I came here tonight. It’s been six years since Jaya Velaryon was in King’s Landing. The two of you were close, weren’t you?”
Close. 
Close like the way Jaya used to hug him when they were children. She’d wrap her little arms so tightly around his chest or his neck that he could hardly breathe. He’d tell her to stop, shove her away, but then she’d only cry, and he could never say no to her after that. 
Close like their minds worked in the same way, when they only needed to look at each other a certain way to know what they were both thinking.
Close like the air of his bedroom the first night they kissed, feeling the shared warmth, her body against his, the softness of her skin, when she tasted like wine and smelled like smoke.
Close was never close enough, but what difference did it make?
“Then there was that accident at Queen’s Lodge. The press release was so vague, it only said you and Jacaerys were recovering from minor injuries…”
Aemond glares at her, the same look that would usually silence Aegon, but Alys Rivers is not afraid of his warning.
She makes a gesture to his eye. “I mean, clearly one injury was more severe than the other. Curious that Jaya left for Pentos so soon after that when she was due to start at KLU that year. Why did she leave, do you know?”
Aemond pushes past her without another word, towards the glass doors that only Jaya has passed through in the last minute or so. The other guests are starting to take their places at the tables now. He sees Rhaenyra and Laenor looking around the room, having gathered their other three brats. His own mother tries to capture his attention but his mind can only think of one thing. He walks towards the doors as calmly as he can, even though it feels as if his life depends on reaching them, on reaching her.
The doors lead out to a patio, seemingly empty right up to the balustrade. He walks to the edge, the noise of the party lost to the roar of the wind and the waves in his ears, no doubt his hair will be blown into a mess but he doesn’t care.
Everything below him is black, out of reach from the lights of the castle. Then he spots something, a flicker of flame far below him, down a series of steps, out of view, down at an outlook over the sea. She shields it with her hand, lighting a cigarette by the look of it, until the end glows with a red ember.
He walks slowly, savouring the sound of every step his shoes make against the paving stones. He keeps his hands in his pockets, single eye fixated on the shape of her shoulders, the curve of her spine and her waist through the dress.
He tries to guess the moment she realises when she’s not alone. She angles her head slightly as he reaches the bottom of the steps, still a good distance away from her. He watches her take one drag from the cigarette before she lowers it, resting her hand against the stone balcony.
He comes close enough to realise she’s shaking, jaw clenched, looking almost determinedly out across the sea. The wind cuts across his cheeks like it’s burning his skin, so how she can stand to be out here with nothing to protect herself from the cold is almost admirable. It is also foolish of her.
Goosebumps bloom over her skin, skin he could reach out and touch if he wanted to.
And she won’t look at him.
She won’t look at him.
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Text
The Plan [Marcus Pike x f!reader]
Read on Ao3
Rating: Explicit
Fandom: The Mentalist
Pairing: Marcus Pike x you/cishet f!reader. Reader is fat/overweight but this is never explicitly mentioned. Also, reader is a lawyer. (I know nothing about lawyering.)
Tags/Warnings: Sad Marcus, alcohol mention, one night stands, fellatio mention, neighbours with benefits, safe sex, squirting, cunnilingus, reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mad dash through the airport at Christmas, trauma dumping (Marcus coming clean about his disappointment after Lisbon dumped him).
Summary: A drunken one night stand with your cute new neighbour Marcus Pike eventually leads to more. Takes place after his story arc in the show.
Words: 7,895
A/N: My first Marcus Pike fic, and also I finished a goddamn fic! There is so much cause for celebration here, folks. Remember to comment and reblog: sharing is caring.
Shout-out to @missredherring and @pazizz who read drafts and helped me forward with this story <3
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Marcus Pike does not have a bitter disposition. He does not sulk, or harbor resentment. It's just not in his nature.
Until now.
There is just something so unforgivable, incomprehensible, wrong about the way Teresa Lisbon left him. She called him to say she was coming to D.C., that she would marry him, and two hours later she called again to inform him that she wasn't. That she was in love with Patrick Jane. That asshole.
Marcus has been divorced, and not even that made him spiral as hard as the breakup from Teresa. It just hit harder, because he had fallen so hard for her, for the way she dipped her gaze and chin when a smile broke out on her lips, before looking back up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He fell for her sense of humor, her intelligence, the way it was so easy to be with her. And he really thought that she fell for him in the same way. Maybe she did - but Jane was there, in the background, confusing her, wooing her with one last big, desperate gesture. If Marcus had known that all it took to keep Teresa was to get himself arrested, he would've done that instead of bringing her takeout at work, making her morning coffee just as she liked it, loaning her his jacket when she was cold during that date, all the thousands of little things that he did for her, that he loved doing for her because he loved her so much that doing those things weren't a chore, they weren't planned, they were an honest, spontaneous expression of his feelings for her.
And then, one big, desperate gesture that rendered Marcus's all small, everyday gestures moot. And it pisses him off.
Practicality kicked in as a form of survival. He quickly cancelled the purchase of the house he had Teresa had picked out, found a condo instead, moved in with his things, and threw himself into his work. Most of the boxes were left unpacked. His place didn't feel like a home because he couldn't let it. He was supposed to share one with Teresa, and now there was just him, surrounded by moving boxes that he had to deal with but couldn't, wouldn't. What should've been a house for the two of them - maybe more in the future? - with a little garden, walls impregnated with love and excitement for a life together, sunlight through the window during long weekend mornings of slow breakfasts, putting up Christmas decorations together, all those things that he was looking forward to. Now he has a bachelor pad, in a fancy apartment building with a doorman, but a sad bachelor pad all the same. The furniture is more or less where it should be, but he hasn't bothered to plan that much. The kitchen table is too big, but he's not in any condition to sell it off and buy a new one. The bookcases are half full, and his artwork is still unhung. He really tried there, but the first painting he got his hands on was one that he had seen before him in the spacious yet cozy living-room in That House, with the fireplace, and suddenly no wall in his apartment was good enough. So he put the painting away, and the rest were left packed down.
He even started going out after work, when he couldn't stay any longer but didn't want to go home. He found a watering hole to his liking, and became a regular, nursing one whiskey after another until he could go home and fall into bed for a deep, dreamless sleep.
It's after one of those nights that he finds you, his neighbor, trying to open his front door with your key. Your clumsy yet meticulous movements tell him that you're intoxicated, and there is something endearing about the way you're frowning, the tip of your tongue sticking out the side of your mouth as you focus on sticking in the key that doesn't fit.
When Marcus comes closer, you notice him, and look up. Quickly registering that it's the workaholic neighbor that you rarely see, you just nod, and go back to trying to open the door.
"That's my door," he says, and you look up again.
"What's that?"
"That's my door. You're trying to get into my apartment."
You frown, your hand holding the key falling to your side as you process his words. You then squint at the number of the door, taking a few seconds to realize that this is, indeed, not your front door.
"Oops," you mutter, then grimace apologetically at your neighbor. "Well, this isn't embarrassing at all."
"Don't worry about it," he shrugs, fishing his own key from his pocket. You step to the side to give him access to the door, and when he stands right next to you, you can smell his cologne, sophisticated and with a hint of bergamot.
He eyes you, just as drunk as you are.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, sure. Late night. You?"
"Same." He looks so tired when he says it, but you can tell that there is a dimple aching to appear in his cheek. His face, bleary though it is, is handsome, and looks like it was made for smiling.
"What is it you do again?" you ask. You've exchanged pleasantries with him when he first moved in, but you never had the time or mental capacity to actually remember who he is.
"FBI, I investigate art theft."
"Ah, right." Yeah, that's it, something so unusual and random that one couldn't make it up. Then again, D.C. is full of people who do stuff you only hear about in movies.
"Marcus," he offers his hand, and you take it, and give him your name.
"And what is it that you do?"
"Law. I work with government contracts and related investigations at a law firm here in D.C."
"Sounds complicated."
You shrug. "I'm smart enough."
"You look good, too."
You scoff. "Are you coming on to me?"
"I'm trying." Now the smile breaks through, lighting up his whole face. Gods, but he's cute.
"Okay." You make the decision quickly, nodding at his door. "Looks like I picked the right door, after all."
Marcus unlocks the door and opens it for you.
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His head is pounding, and his mouth is dry when he wakes up. For a moment, he doesn't know what day it is, what he's supposed to do, or what happened last night, but then the flashbacks start to put things together. The flirty neighbor. Her naked skin. Her alcohol-fuming kisses.
He turns his head and sees you, still asleep next to him. Oh, okay.
Sitting up slowly, he gets his bearings before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Clothes are strewn over the floor. Right next to the bed is a used condom, tied up and looking sad and abandoned. Okay, good, at least he remembered to use protection. He picks it up and takes it to the bathroom, where he disposes of it before washing his hands and face.
He hears the rustle of bedsheets, and returns to the bedroom, realizing that he's naked. You might not want to be greeted by a naked stranger first thing. Looking around for his underwear, he's nevertheless too slow in finding them: you're already sitting up and rubbing your forehead.
He clears his throat. "Good morning."
Your smile is a little lopsided. "Morning."
"You want breakfast?" Marcus immediately offers, wanting to do the gentlemanly thing before he sends you off so that he can take about ten aspirins, and go to work. "And I'll put out a clean towel for you so that you can use the shower."
"Appreciate it, but I live right next door," you point out as you get out of bed. You're as naked as he is, and Marcus tries very hard not to ogle your body for what he suspects will be the last time.
"I don't mind."
"Thanks, but I have to get to work." You pick up and put on your panties, bra, skirt, shirt. Marcus spots his boxer briefs, and pulls them on.
"Okay, well... I had a good time."
"I did too."
Now you're standing right in front of him, buttoning up your silk shirt. Even with your makeup smudged out, and terrible morning breath, you look really nice.
"I gotta ask you something, though, because my memory is a little... hazy." Your cheekbones seem to glow, and he realizes that you're blushing.
"Yeah?"
"I sucked your dick, didn't I?"
Marcus feels the heat rise to his ears. "Um... well... yes, you did."
"Well?"
"What?"
"Did I do it well?"
"I think so."
You grin at him. "You don't remember much either, do you?"
"It was all consensual, if that's what you're asking."
"Oh, I have no doubt about that." You surprise him by placing your hand on his naked chest. His heart skips a beat, and he hopes that you won't notice.
"I really have to go, but maybe I'll see you again soon?" you ask softly, and Marcus finds himself relaxing.
"I'd like that."
You even kiss him good-bye, a quick, closed-mouth peck to keep morning breaths from mixing, before you grab your shoes, your purse (muttering under your breath about several emails, and two missed calls), and head over next door.
Marcus, still only wearing his underwear, looks thoughtfully at the closed door for a long while before going into the kitchen with the too big table to make coffee.
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Work occupies most of your waking hours, six days a week, often seven. You don't see Marcus again for weeks, don't hear any sounds from his apartment during the hours you're home and awake. Barely having time to think about him, your thoughts nevertheless stray to him when you're standing in the shower or going to bed at night. You haven't been able to fit a boyfriend into your life in a long time, and casual hook-ups have rarely left you satisfied, but even with your hazy memories of the night with Marcus, you left his apartment that morning with a feeling that it was good. So that's where your thoughts go when you touch yourself, the few times you have the energy to do so.
One Friday night, after a long but satisfying week that ended with a contract being accepted as it was, which meant you could have a weekend with only a couple of hours of work from home, you're hurrying home with Chinese takeout in a bag. Looking forward to a quiet night in front of the TV, with an early morning at the gym the following day, you run into Marcus on your way into your apartment building.
"Hi," you smile, immediately noticing how he seems to square his shoulders when he sees you. "Going out?"
"Yeah," he nods, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he takes in your food bag. "And you're staying in?"
"Finally, a Friday night without work," you acknowledge. Marcus's smile lets you know that he knows about that all too well.
"Enjoy."
"You too, you going somewhere nice?"
"No, I mean... I'm just going by myself."
There is something so despondent about the way he averts his eyes when confessing to going out alone. You're not in a position to start saving people, but you see an opening here.
"Join me for dinner instead, Marcus."
"I don't want to bother you."
"It's no bother," you shake your head, now moving towards the elevator while beckoning him to follow you. "Come on, before the food gets cold. There's enough here for two, I always buy extra."
He hesitates for only a split second, you can see it in how his body seems to pull him away, out to some sad bar with too much to drink. Instead, he nods, smiles softly, and follows you. He insists on bringing a bottle of wine from his place, and you accept.
You find out more about him that night, as you share your takeout with him, and he shares his wine. He tells you of heartache, only summarily, clearly not wanting you to feel sorry for him, but you can tell that he's been torn up about the "amicable" break-up. He also mentions that he's been married, and you wonder what's wrong with him. He seems perfectly nice and normal, why hasn't he been able to keep a woman? To his credit, he never complains about nice guys finishing last, only states that maybe he's meant to focus on his career.
"There's a lot to be said about having a good career," you agree. Marcus sips his wine with a small smile.
"Work doesn't break your heart."
"That, too."
"I take it you don't have a partner who'll suddenly come home to find me in his kitchen?" he jokes lightly, but you recognize the question for what it is: he wants to know if you're Seeing Anyone.
"Not one for relationships," you shrug.
"You don't long for anyone to snuggle up with in front of the TV on a Friday night?"
"I don't have time. And they never seem to understand that. Or they're working, too." You pick at the scraps in your takeout box with the chopsticks. "And I seem to attract douchebags. Dunno if it comes with the field in which I work. I always seem to go out with terrible lawyer guys."
Marcus chuckles. "Their loss."
"I miss having sex, though." You look him in the eye, and his tongue slides over his lower lip, catching some runaway sauce.
"Yeah?"
You nod, and feel your cheeks heat up. You're a no-nonsense person, but not always this forward with men. But it's easy with Marcus. He takes it all in stride, doesn't seem to think you're aggressive, or slutty, he just smiles and tells you that he misses sex too.
"But what we had was okay, though?" he adds. "Even if neither one of us seems to remember it that well."
"It was," you agree, raising the glass to your lips and draining the rest of the wine. After putting it back down, you tilt your head and bite your lower lip.
"You wanna do it again? Now that we're sober and all?"
"I'm a little tipsy," he warns you with a chuckle, "But I'm in."
Both of you get up at the same time, chairs scraping the floor simultaneously in the kitchen that mirrors his own but has a table that fits it. All of your apartment just fits in a way his half-assed dwelling doesn't. He realizes that it's because your apartment is a home, decorated and lived-in, warm colors and fabrics, Scandinavian wallpapers in bold but tasteful patterns that he himself would never consider but that feel right here.
You step up to him, snugly fitting yourself to his frame, and place your hands on his narrow hips as you kiss him. The two glasses of wine that you've had have laid a warm, cozy blanket over your busy mind, and now you're fully focused on Marcus, whose soft, plump lips are meeting yours as his arms go around your waist.
You make your way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes as you kiss and get undressed, get undressed and kiss. The bed in unmade, you just threw the covers to the side when you got up this morning. Wearing only your underwear, you lay down, pull Marcus over you, rake your fingers through his hair, moan when he palms your plump tits through the bra.
"Tell me what you like," he asks you hoarsely. You hum when he scatters kisses along the lace trim of your bra.
"That's a good start."
He hums back as he pops your tits out of your bra and lick around the nipples.
"Go on," he asks, and a shiver runs down your spine at the low barytone of his voice. You reach around to unhook your bra, and Marcus takes it off you and flings it to the side before burying his face between your breasts.
"You eat pussy?" you ask him breathlessly, and he looks up at you.
"Of course."
"Not everybody does," you wink, and he shakes his head.
"Their loss."
He's in a hurry, you note, but it's endearing in an unexpected way. When he pulls down your panties and gets settled, your legs over his shoulders, you remember to give him a warning.
"I, uh, I don't orgasm from oral, just so you know."
"Really?" His breath is hot against your folds, but he's looking up at you with attentive eyes.
"Yeah. It's not a comment on your skills, I just need you to know it," you shrug, accustomed to always having to tread carefully around the matter. Too many men get offended or take it as a challenge.
"Thanks for telling me," Marcus smiles in a way that's way too innocent and adorable for a man who's got his face inches away from your pussy. "But do you really want me to...?"
"Oh God, yes!" you reassure him. "I enjoy it a lot, and it gets me wet. I just can't cum, I need vaginal stimulation for that."
"You got it," he pats your thigh lightly before his tongue connects with your folds, and your eyes fall shut as you hand yourself over to the pleasure, to Marcus's deftly dancing tongue. He's good, he's attentive and eager, yet you don't get the feeling that he's trying to prove you wrong, to make you orgasm. Lord knows men have tries that in the past, and it's just stressful. No, he just seems to enjoy your moans, the way you writhe and grab his hands, the twitches of your pelvis when he does something extraordinary.
"Goddddd, Marcus, that's so fucking good..." you wail when he alternates between sucking your clit and licking it with a quick tongue. He's getting louder, sloppier, and you know you're dripping. Your clit is throbbing, and you know this is the perfect time to speed things up. You push him away, your thighs closing around his head, and Marcus retreats, chin glistening as he licks his lips.
"You okay?" he wants to know. You nod, breathless and with a pounding heart.
"Need to fuck you."
He scrambles up for a deep kiss, wet and lewd, before you push him over to get a condom from your nightstand. He drapes himself over you as you stretch across the bed, and peppers your back with kisses, like he's unable to stay away from you. You roll around, finding yourself caged between his strong arms, and you pull him down for more kissing with lips swollen and dry but still wanting more.
"How do you want me?" he gasps between the kisses as you pull down his underwear and paw at his small butt.
"Can I be on top?"
He rolls over onto his back immediately, watching you with open-mouth excitement when you remove his shorts and put on the rubber. When you finally sink down on his length, his fingers dig into your thighs as his breath hitches.
"Oh, that feels good..."
"Uh-huh," you sigh, staying still for a moment to adjust to his cock inside of you. You smile inwardly as you find yourself thinking about just how perfectly sized it is: thick but not too long.
"What?"
Your eyes open to find Marcus grinning at you.
"What what?" you grin back. He caresses your hips slowly.
"You looked like you had something to say."
"I was just thinking about what a perfect, gorgeous dick you have."
His cheeks turn pink. "Thank you. It came with the body."
You chuckle and start a slow grind, hips moving lazily back and forth as you seek out the right spots, the right rhythm. Finding it, you plant your hands on Marcus's chest and let out a low moan as you go slightly faster.
"That right for you?" he huffs, sitting up to catch a nipple in his mouth.
"Mmmfuckyes..."
You drop your hand to where your bodies meet, fingers seeking out your clit. Pleasure zaps through your body when you rub it, and you clench tightly around Marcus, causing him to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, both of you groaning.
"So good," he gripes, soothing the sting of his fingertips by rubbing his palms over the affected areas before he moves his fingers to your front. "Need a hand?"
"'m good," you gasp, your free arm slinging around his neck. You clench around him again, and Marcus's hips jut upwards, slamming into you with a force that makes you choke.
"Fuck! God, Marcus, that was..."
"Can we try something?" he pants, pulling you in for a kiss. "Please?"
"Okay?" you frown, a little frustrated at being interrupted, but Marcus gestures for you to rise, so you do as he asks, and let him pull you down with him.
"Get on top of me again, but lie down," he instructs you. You must look doubtful because he immediately adds:
"Just try it, if you don't like it, we can go back to what you were doing."
"I'll try anything once," you shrug, and get on top of him again, this time with your back turned to him. Marcus pulls you down, positioning you on top of him, legs spread, his own legs on the outside of yours. You hesitate for a second, the reality of your weight sometimes haunting your mind, but Marcus insists.
"Just come here, baby," he tells you softly, so you let him take your weight. One of his arms sneaks up the side of your ribcage to cup a breast. With the other, he guides himself into you, pushing himself in with an upward thrust of his hips. You choke on your breath and let your head hang back on his shoulder, one arm seeking a position to support you, the other coming around Marcus's neck when he presses a toothy kiss to your neck. He thrusts into you again, fingers playing with your nipple, and then his other hand comes to rub your clit.
You keen at the sudden intensity, back arching on top of him, and he plants his feet more firmly on the mattress.
"Fuck," you gasp, "that's good, Marcus, this is good..."
He sucks a kiss to your neck, his teeth stinging just a little, and your legs kick in search of a hold so that you can stay just above him. He slips out, and you whimper.
"Relax," he soothes you, thumb abandoning your clit to instead guide himself back into you. "Put your weight on me, I can take it."
You follow his instructions, back sinking down onto his chest and stomach, pelvis angling slightly to help him stay inside you. His fingers return to tease your clit, and your head falls back onto his shoulder as he settles into a rhythm that makes your toes curl.
"That's it," he praises you, his breath hot against your ear. "Just like that, take it, just enjoy it, let me take care of you."
The slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is maddening in how it pushes at your spot but leaves you wanting more. You buck your hips down eagerly.
"Faster, please, Marcus."
He obeys immediately, moaning at how you immediately clench around him. Your fingers thread through his hair, the other hand fists into the sheets. The pressure on that one spot inside you is growing in intensity, insanely, perfectly, knocking your breath out with each jab of Marcus's cock against it. Your moans become whimpers, a moan too complex a sound for you at this point, when you are so close, so utterly close to the climax that you now need as much as you need air -
The release floods your body and your cunt, and for a split second you're horrified at the wet feeling on your thighs, the rippling sound, until you realize that you squirted. A half moan, half giggle escapes you as you press your thighs together as if to lock in the orgasm that pulsates through your cunt and lower belly. Marcus gasps an excited Fuck, yes before bucking up a couple of errant times, and then relaxing down. He kisses your temple, drags his soaked fingers up over your soft belly, making you squirm.
"Sorry," he murmurs throatily. You murmur something back and slide down next to him. Everything between your legs seems wet and now cold, but you're still prickling all over with excitement.
Marcus heaves a deep sigh before turning his face to you. "That was so hot."
"I didn't know I could do that with a man."
"You haven't before?"
You shake your head. Marcus smiles softly.
"I'm honored. Was it good?"
"Yeah. How about you?"
"So fucking good."
You smile back at him before turning your face back towards the ceiling, and taking a deep breath that you sigh out audibly. Your body relaxes quickly, a muscle in your lower back mutters about the position you just were in, but you feel extremely good, and wrung out in a fantastic way. In the corner of your eye, you catch Marcus taking the condom off, before getting up to take it to the trash. When he returns, he looks around, looking for his clothes. You roll over onto your side.
"You don't have to leave, you know," you tell him quietly. Marcus stops, boxers in hand.
"Yeah?"
"I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for a relationship," you hurry to assure him. "But I wouldn't mind you staying over. Unless you have plans?"
"I don't."
He drops the boxers, and slides back into bed, next to you. You smile a little wryly.
"The sheets are wet. I'll change them, feel free to grab a shower.
"Soon," Marcus tells you, low voice heavy with a calm confidence. "I suggest we wet them a little more first."
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Your deal with Marcus is simple and beautiful: sex, with or without staying the night. The occasional take-out dinner. Quickies when you run into each other in the corridor outside your front doors, with ten minutes to spare. It's undemanding, friendly, mutually satisfying. Uncomplicated, with no romantic feelings involved, so nobody can get hurt.
Marcus is an active lover who smoothly takes charge. Not bossy, but firm and empathic, and not afraid of using aids of different kinds to raise your orgasms to the next level. He's not opposed to fucking you fully clothed in the morning and leaving you wanting as you go to work with his cold cum in your panties, shot there after he removed the rubber after fucking you.
It is, in short, the perfect set-up.
Fall passes by, and you see yourself forced to fly out to see your family over Thanksgiving. You spend as much time as you can working in your childhood room, however. Your parents do not understand your choice of profession, your mother does not see how a woman of your age has chosen to be childless. Your older brother knocked his girlfriend up at sixteen, your younger sister was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty-eight. You love them, but you don't have a lot in common with them, and even if your siblings at least pretend to understand your life choices, their contempt steeped in jealousy of your life shines through at times. Your parents choose to simply ignore the life you have built for yourself in D.C., talking instead about Mrs. McCall next door, Annie down the street, Cybil in town, Kearney at the gas station, as if you knew any of them or cared about what they said about Kayleigh's twins.
You endure for two nights, and text Marcus from the airport, before boarding: I'll be home after nine tonight. You free?
He replies almost immediately: I'll pick you up at the airport.
You text him the flight number before turning off your phone, settling for a three-hour nap in lieu of working.
When you finally land, puffy-faced but breathing freely now that you're back in the city you call home, Marcus is waiting for you in arrivals. The way his smile lights up his eyes when he sees you makes your heart miss a beat. There is something there that's beyond what the two of you have, something much more sincere.
You shake it off and smile back as you walk up to him. He leans forward, like he's about to kiss you, but ends up giving you an awkward half-hug.
"Welcome home."
"Thanks. And thank you for picking me up."
"My pleasure."
The two of you turn and start walking towards the exit. Marcus offers to take your carry-on wheelie bag, but you decline, accustomed as you are to carrying your own luggage yourself.
In the car, he asks you how your Thanksgiving was.
"As holidays at my parents' usually are. One night would've been enough."
"That bad, huh?"
"Yeah. It's just..." You rub your forehead. "Whenever I visit, I feel trapped. Everything back home is... small. People are kind, yes, but they're small-minded. The town is small. The spaces in which to move, physically and mentally, are small. And I feel like some kind of big city snob who comes to visit twice a year, scoffs at their very ordinary and, as far as I know, happy lives, and then flies back to my vegan frappuccinos and twenty-four-hour sushi restaurants."
Marcus chuckles low. "I think I know what you mean. But it's hard for me to imagine that you'd be a snob about anything."
"I probably am. But I... I don't know, I outgrew that town when I was fifteen. Couldn't get out fast enough. And I don't like going back."
"Does your family support your choices?"
You shrug. "Yes and no. Mom and dad are proud, I guess, but at the same time they don't have any idea what it is that I do. 'If you wanted to be a lawyer, couldn't you be one here? Where it's not as stressful and you could start a family, and work normal hours?' As if I could practice the law I'm interested in over there."
"What's the most common type of lawyer in your hometown?"
"General practitioners who do a little bit of everything, wills mostly. And there are three, I think."
"Wow."
"Exactly."
The conversation turns to other subjects as Marcus drives the two of you to your apartment building. As he parks in his spot in the underground garage, you place your hand onto his thigh. He turns off the engine and looks at you.
"Thanks for picking me up," you tell him quietly. His hand comes to rest on top of yours.
"No problem."
"You have any plans for tonight?"
He shakes his head, then leans forward over the middle console as you reach across the same for a kiss. His fingers thread into your hair before closing around the back of your head to bring you in, and you sigh softly against his lips as you feel the rest of the pressure from your Thanksgiving visit melt away. If the town you grew up in felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, D.C. and Marcus feel like home. And there's nothing you want to do more now than be with Marcus in this city.
You break the kiss and lower your gaze to his fly, where your fingers are already working on unzipping him. Marcus exhales in an audible sigh.
"You missed me that much?"
"Don't get any ideas," you warn him before bowing down over his lap.
Later, when you are freshly showered, and lying awake in Marcus's bed with him deeply asleep next to you, you wonder when his presence at night became such a comfort for you.
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Marcus visits his parents over Christmas. You manage to convince yours that you're way too busy and the holidays too short for you to fly out. Settling in for a couple of days off work, you plan to go to the gym, meet friends, and maybe finally get through that book you started three months ago. You plan for simple yet delicious meals and come home with bags full of groceries and bottles of wine that you balance in your arms as you're digging for the keys in your pocket.
"Lemme get that."
Marcus appears by your side, taking a grocery bag from you.
"Thanks."
You manage to let yourself in, and Marcus follows you to the kitchen, where he leaves the bag on the table.
"Hi," he smiles. There is something so endearing about this man, his smile lights up the whole room, you can't possibly keep from smiling back at him.
"Hi. I thought you already left for the airport?"
"Just on my way now. Glad I caught you."
"Oh?" You unbutton your coat, unwrap the scarf from around your neck. "What's up?"
"Just... I wanted to see you before I left. Wish you happy holidays."
"Right." You take off your coat and leave it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Well... happy holidays, Marcus. I hope you have a nice weekend with your parents."
"Thanks." He clears his throat, looks down and scratches the back of his head. "Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?"
"Not that I know of."
"Do you maybe... want to do something?"
"Sure," you nod, a warmth spreading in your belly. "Like, dinner?"
"I was thinking Hirschhorn? You said you were curious about their special exhibit. Then dinner, and maybe a movie, if you're not opposed to spending so much time with me at once?"
You feel your cheeks heat up a little. "I don't mind at all. That sounds lovely."
His smile widens, his warm eyes glitter. "Great. I'll get back to you as soon as I return."
He kisses your cheek before leaving, his hand resting momentarily on your arm. When he closes the door behind him, the apartment feels empty.
That emptiness stays with you over the holidays. You're enjoying the time off, yes, and downright cherish not having to spend time with your family. You were looking forward to Christmas eve drinks with a couple of friends but are disappointed when they only talk about holiday preparations, gift shopping, and visiting in-laws. The detachment makes you annoyed. It's not that you want that kind of life, you don't want kids and a house and Thanksgiving dinners and all of that. But there doesn't seem to be any alternatives. You get the feeling that they feel sorry for you, that they think you should look up from your laptop once in a while, go dating, settle down, maybe work less.
Always work less. You love your job so much, maybe you won’t forever, but right now you do, and it doesn’t feel taxing when it gives you the gratification it does.
You grab a cab home, earlier than you thought and morose for not getting the carefree night you had planned for. Maybe it's your own fault for thinking that people with families wouldn't have changed.
You weigh your phone in your hand for a couple of blocks before texting Marcus.
Hope you're having a better time than I am. Just getting home after drinks, and realized I have nothing in common with my friends anymore :/
You regret the text as soon as you've sent it. It sounds whiny, and you know that you're being unfair to your friends. But Marcus replies almost immediately:
Sorry to hear that. Wish I was there to make you feel better.
You smile, and your heart skips a beat. He always knows what to say.
It is what it is. Early night for me.
He replies with a Santa emoji that makes you chuckle.
Too old for Santa, you type back. Or too naughty. Either way, he's not coming.
Only man who should come in your apartment is me ;)
You stare at the message, cheeks heating as you lick your lips. Your brain scrambles for an answer to match his tone.
I'll be the judge of that, mister. If you're away for too long, I might get lonely.
The reply comes almost immediately.
I'll be back before you know it.
Your heart is fluttering like a butterfly inside your ribcage, and you react with a thumb up to the last message. For the rest of the cab ride, you're chewing on your lower lip while looking out the window, decorated windows racing past you as the cab driver navigates towards your apartment building.
You fall asleep in front of the TV and are awakened by a text.
You up?
You rub your eyes, realize that you're still wearing makeup, and curse low.
It's two am.
Marcus's name immediately lights up on the phone, and you answer the call.
"What's up?"
"Sorry to wake you."
"That's fine, I was on the couch. Gotta schlep my ass to bed," you yawn as you turn off the TV, and stand up, scratching your head.
"I'm outside."
"What?"
"I'm outside your door."
You frown, trying to understand what he's saying. "What are you doing there?"
"Just open?"
Call still active and phone held to your ear, you walk over to the front door, and unlock it. And there Marcus is, holding his phone but lowering his hand and ending the call while smiling wryly at you.
"Hi."
"What... why aren't you at your parents'?" you stutter, still holding the phone like you're talking to him through it.
"Because I can't do this at my parents'." He steps up to you, cups your cheek, and brings his lips to yours. His face is cold, so you understand that he has just arrived from the airport. Your sleep-riddled brain still doesn't understand, and Marcus breaks the kiss, breathing softly against your lips before drawing back.
"Did I... fuck this up now?"
You lick your lips and realize that you're feeling calm and steady in a way you no longer do when he's not around. You grab him by the jacket lapel and pull him in through the door.
"No," you reply, a shiver running through you when he puts his arms around you. "No, you did just the right thing."
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You don't use your tub as often as you would like to, yet it was one of the main reasons why you bought your apartment. It's spacious, has gorgeous vintage style brass faucets, and is placed by the window, from which you can see the park, now wearing a white winter coat of snow, on the other side of the street. The shower booth is at the back wall of the bathroom and your busy lifestyle has you favoring quick showers instead of long, luxurious baths.
Now, however, you're stretched out languidly in Marcus's arms, the back of your head on his shoulder, his hairy thighs pressing up against you on either side. The water is hot and scented with oils, and if the orgasms you had before getting out of bed hadn't relaxed you, this would definitely take away the last vestiges of stress knotting your muscles.
"This is a really nice tub," Marcus mumbles into your ear, his hand running up the inside of your arm, resting on the edge of the tub. "Wish I had one."
"You're welcome to use mine," you smile, just as his hand disappears into the water, finding your breast and cupping it, thumb lazily stroking the nipple.
"I like your apartment better anyway," he admits. "Mine doesn't feel like a home."
"That's just because you haven't unpacked."
He raises his shoulders in a shrug. "Been busy."
"Doesn't help much that you're fucking me every time you're off work."
“One could even say it’s your fault I haven’t unpacked,” he muses, lips touching your temple. You shake your head, hand finding his and leading it away from your breast.
“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to pin this on me.” There is no vehemence in your voice, and even if Marcus can’t see your face, he can plainly hear the smile threatening to break out.
“I had to try.”
You bring your hand back to your chest, and sigh when his fingers brush over your nipple. It would be so easy to just let things slide, enjoy his hands, his mouth, his cock that’s resting softly against your lower back… But your interest is piqued.
“Why haven’t you unpacked, Marcus?” you ask quietly. “I’ve seen that you have painting just waiting to be hung on the walls and given how much you like to criticize my dentist’s office artwork from Ikea, I can’t imagine why you haven’t done more to decorate your apartment.”
His hand stills, and you feel him swallow. He clears his throat, sighs, clearly stalling, but you don’t show mercy. You want to know.
“I guess… I thought I’d be making a home with someone. And when that didn’t happen, I didn’t like the idea anymore.”
You braid your fingers with his, the water gently rippling with your movement.
“Your ex?”
“Yeah. Teresa.”
“What happened?” He’s mentioned some tragic breakup but never specified, and you’ve never asked. Now, however, you’re asking. You want this puzzle piece to fit right, want to know everything there is to know about Marcus Pike.
“I don’t want to burden you with that…”
“I want to know, Marcus.”
He hesitates, but eventually tells you how his ex, a smart, beautiful woman that he fell head over heels for and eventually proposed to, accepted his proposal over the phone but called again thirty minutes later to tell him that she was leaving him for a coworker. Marcus had been transferred to D.C., had asked Teresa to come with, had a plan for a life together, and she turned out to be in love with a coworker: a charming, unreliable man who worked out an elaborate scheme to make her choose him instead of Marcus.
You’re shocked to silence when he stops talking, an array of emotions simmering inside you. When Marcus speaks your name, the first one to burst is anger.
“What a cunt!”
Marcus sputters your name, but you don’t feel bad.
“You know I’m right!”
“No need for language like that,” he protests, but you can sense a change in him. It’s like something’s loosened in him. Even if you can’t see his face in this position, you can feel it in how his body feels against yours.
“I’m sorry, but that behavior is despicable. And from what you’ve told me about that asshole that she went with because of you, I’d say they deserve each other.”
He shrugs. “Or maybe I was too pushy. We didn’t date for long before I asked her to marry me. I should’ve given her more time.”
You turn around in his arms so that you can meet his flickering gaze. Raising your hand to his cheek, you caress the slightly scratchy surface that sorely needs a razor.
“If it feels right, it feels right,” you tell him softly. “There’s no shame in being open and honest about your feelings, Marcus.”
He blinks, and for a second you think his eyes look shiny. His lower jaw moves as he swallows.
“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles. “I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses but… I did feel I was being straight with her. And she… really fucking hurt me.”
“Yeah, she did.”
His stare is suddenly relentless.
“Will you? Hurt me, I mean?”
You feel nothing but calm. “Marcus, I like you a lot. This is more than just sex now. But I won’t marry you in six months, and I don’t need you to have a plan for us. I like my job, I have a good career that I won’t give up. I don’t want kids, but I like being with you, and I want to keep being with you, not just have sex but do other stuff with you.”
He smiles at that and casts his eyes down. You lean forward to press a small kiss to his lips.
“And I will help you to unpack your shit, and I will come with you to get a new kitchen table tomorrow when the stores open. Because that huge monster you have jamming up your kitchen has got to go.”
“Not tomorrow,” he immediately tells you, and you quirk an eyebrow. “Because tomorrow I’m taking you to the museum, out for a meal, and then we’re watching Casablanca.”
You chuckle. “It’s a deal.”
He pulls you in for a deeper kiss, water splashing when his arms go around you.
“For the record,” he murmurs against your lips, “I like you too.”
“That’s a relief,” you smile, before a gasp escapes your lips; Marcus’s hand has slid down your soft stomach to the apex of your thighs, and one finger is slowly circling your clit.
“Open your legs,” he whispers, breath almost scorching your cheek that is already warm from the water and your rising desire. You move around, legs and hips repositioning themselves so that he can cup his big hand over your sex.
“Marcus,” you breathe in a low moan, “I already came twice this morning…”
“And you’ll come a third time,” he promises as he slides a finger inside your warm heat, rolling a nipple between two fingers of his other hand. You curl your arm back and around his neck, seek his lips for more kisses, push down against his hardening cock to make him gasp into your mouth. Thumb on your clit, he adds a second finger to your pussy, fucking you slowly as you exchange moans along with your kisses. Your hips jut upwards when he hits the right spot, and then he stays on it, water splashing over the edges of the tub when he goes increases speed. Your hand dives underneath the surface to find his cock, and a strangled moan travels from Marcus’s mouth to yours when your fingers close around the stiff length. When he slows down, so do you, when he fucks you faster, your hand works him faster.
The climax reaches both of you at the same time, your bodies tightening up, Marcus’s hips jerking up as your thighs clamp shut, cries bouncing off the tiles as you press your bodies together. As silence falls, the water stills and your hearts return to their normal rhythms, and Marcus’s lips are on your temple.
“Fuck, you’re amazing.”
“So are you,” you hum, a ripple of lingering pleasure making your legs twitch. He kisses you again, a light smattering of kisses over your temple, brow, cheekbone, before reaching your mouth. That last kiss is deep and slow, loving, and intimate in a way you haven’t had with him before. It’s unnerving, almost scary, but there is something so comforting about Marcus’s broad-shouldered body underneath you, something that makes you embrace the unknown.
“Happy Christmas, baby.”
The underwhelming meeting with your friends, the flirty texting with Marcus, that feels like weeks ago. But it was only last night, and your world has been thoroughly rocked since then.
“Happy Christmas, Marcus.”
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hlficlibrary · 9 months
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HL Fic Library 🤣 Fics With Humor
Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.
🤣 Just Me, You, And This Box of Matches by tomlinsunshine @tornlinsunshine​ (M, 87k)
Louis is fairly sure that his new neighbour is going to destroy him. And also their apartment building, and the dumpsters outside, and all the forests within a thirty mile radius. But. Mostly him.
🤣 Harry Styles Cooks… by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships​ (E, 61k+, wip)
In which Louis Tomlinson can’t cook, there’s a very special shower curtain, and Harry Styles used to be a baker.
Or: Louis owns all of Harry Styles’ cookbooks, and he never intends to cook a single thing out of any of them.
🤣 Frankincense-ational by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (T, 31k)
Harry Styles works at the Hillsyde Library with his friend Zayn and best mate Niall. It’s December, which means Christmas, which should be the happiest month of the year…
Except Niall just broke up with his boyfriend, Zayn needs to let up on the rules a little, and the library is getting their fire alarm system replaced, which means that for the next few weeks there are going to be firemen patrolling the library ‘looking for fires’ while the system is down.
Harry almost hits one of them with his car right off the bat - and of course he’s the hot one.
🤣 the butthole series by @kingsofeverything (E, 24k)
a series of standalone fics with a central theme
🤣 That's How I Know by @allwaswell16 (E, 19k)
Louis Tomlinson has just landed his dream job, coaching soccer at Augustus University. When he moves into a new house near campus, he meets his very fit new neighbor, English professor Harry Styles. Although their first meeting leads to an instant mutual dislike, the more Harry gets to know Louis, the more he likes what he sees.
Or the one where Harry’s African grey parrot spills his dirty secrets to his very hot neighbor.
🤣 Man, Deconstructed by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom (E, 13k)
Harry doesn’t need help getting laid and he certainly doesn’t need Niall to hire a professional to ‘sort him out’.
But when a gorgeous man turns up on his doorstep on his birthday to ‘lay some pipe’ in the back garden (who just happens to have the best arse Harry’s ever seen), his world is upended.
OR the one where a well-meaning best mate, a sculpture-worthy arse, and a heaping dose of misunderstanding combine to create sheer and utter chaos, and also, maybe, the best thing Harry’s ever found.
🤣 One Vote Can Rock the Boat by @2tiedships2 (M, 12k)
“Niall, I need you to come and vote with me tomorrow.”
“Lou, I know we’ve only been friends for about two years now, but I guess I’ve never explicitly told you I’m Irish?”
“You don’t have to vote, exactly,” Louis explained. “But I don’t want to go to a sex toy shop by myself.”
“Have I just entered an alternate universe? In what world does voting for the government correlate in any way to sex toys?”
Or the one where Omega Louis shows off his “I voted” sticker as one of the first 100 customers to get a free vibrator. The beautiful alpha behind the counter informs him that he’s customer 101.
🤣 autopilot by silkbombs (M, 11k)
Louis accidentally sends an unknown number a video of him giving a cockroach a funeral. The weirdest love story ensues.
🤣 Umbrielievable by nikogda / @cyphermedley (NR, 11k)
Three months ago they began to pick up a weak signal. They couldn’t decipher it and figured it was just a satellite they were picking up. Eventually, they were able to translate "Give us cheese" but the rest was still a mess. That message baffled them, and they immediately thought it may be a joke from another country.
Or, The one where Harry is an Alien from Uranus' moon, Umbriel whose inhabitants require cheese to survive.
🤣 Just Your Jinx by @larryatendoftheday (T, 10k)
Harry Styles may or may not have accidentally jinxed his extremely fit new neighbor, and it's not so easy to make things right.
🤣 For a day by bluegreenish / @greenblueish (T, 9k)
“While I appreciate that compliment - you’re right -, it’s not a prank. I swear. I tried calling Harry and Liam, but they aren’t picking up. And like, I don’t know what to do? I just woke up in Liam’s freaking body, and like, he’s a nice lad and everything, but I don’t want to be him?!”
Once again, tense silence fills the line for a second and Louis almost expects Zayn to hang up on him, but his friend speaks up again, voice urgent this time. 
“You’re serious?”
“One hundred percent. I swear.”
or, the one where Harry wakes up in Louis' body, Louis in Liam's, Liam in Niall's, Niall in Harry's and no one picked Zayn.
🤣 Only Been Here One Time by alienharry (NR, 9k)
“Good morning, Liam. Harry.” Louis nods at them both and then cocks his head. “Are you aware you have four nipples, Harry?”
Harry looks down at his chest, suddenly worried. He doesn’t know how many nipples humans have, but four must not be a usual amount. “Should I have six?”
“Not unless you’ve a litter of kittens to feed.”
The Alien!Harry fic I was destined to write 
🤣 Ain’t My Fault by @afirethatcannotdie (E, 7k)
“Liam, M4M is for sex! You posted in a sex forum about your missing jacket.”
“It is not for sex!”
“It is. Trust me.”
“Well, if it helps me find my jacket then I don’t really see why it matters. Besides, someone already texted me about it. This Styles guy’s coming over in a bit to get it.”
“You invited the avocado man to come get his jacket at our flat after posting on a sex forum. Do you see where this is going?”
“I really don’t.” 
“Someone is going to have to have sex with the avocado man!” Louis screeches, and Liam covers his ears.
AU. Liam posts an ad on the wrong section of Craigslist, Louis is pretty sure they’re gonna get murdered as a result, and Harry’s missing an avocado.
🤣 Porn To Be Wild by @fallinglikethis (E, 5k)
As Louis Tomlinson writes his One Direction fanfiction in a quiet, isolated corner of the local library, the last thing he expects is for the subject of his story to interrupt him in the middle of a sex scene. But that’s exactly what happens.
🤣 Absolute Beginners by @taggiecb (T, 5k)
Louis would like to think that Niall can't surprise him anymore. He never knows what his friend will come up with sometimes. But when he calls Louis in the middle of the night and asks him to come and hit on his friend, Louis can't help but let curiosity get the best of him.
🤣 Only Reason by @letsjustsee (NR, 5k)
“We are so lucky to have with us one of the leading experts on beekeeping in the modern age, Dr. Louis Draper.”No. No, no, no… “I know I speak for many of us when I say that this man’s books have guided our practice, or helped us get started,” Harry continued, and Louis watched as the crowd nodded their heads in agreement. Oh shit. No. What? No. But then Harry was gesturing towards him, saying “Dr. Draper?” into the microphone, the crowd was applauding, and Louis found himself walking up the stairs to the stage.
Or, Louis is most definitely smitten with Harry from the second he sees him, but he is also most definitely not the world's foremost expert on beekeeping. He decides to roll with it anyway.
🤣 Catastrophe (Or Not) by grapenight (G, 5k)
Based on the prompt: "Harry's a crazy cat person and Louis is the vet he keeps bringing his cats to with minor concerns like "she's been acting weird lately" and "he didn't poop today so I'm worried" but it's really just excuses to keep seeing Louis everyday"
🤣 Anywhere With You by sweetums / @darlou (T, 3k)
“Do you want some gum?” Louis’ lovely voice interrupts his train of thoughts.
“No, thank you.” Harry responds quickly.
What? ‘No, thank you’? What was he thinking? If Louis Tomlinson offers you gum, you take it. If Louis Tomlinson offers you a vial of vomit, you take it.
“On second thought, gum would be perfection.” Harry actually considers just dying right there as he reaches over to pry the piece of gum out of Louis’ perfect little hand, eyes flitting over to the other man’s amused face.
Why did he say that? He could’ve said, ‘I’ll have some gum’ or ‘gum would be great’ or even a simple ‘thanks’ but no, no, for Harry, ‘gum would be perfection’.
He loathes himself.
AU where Harry gets stuck in an ATM vestibule with Louis Tomlinson during a blackout. Inspired by Chandler and Jill Goodacre from Friends.
🤣 Oh Honey, Honey by @lululawrence (NR, 3k)
Louis hated honey. He didn’t like the flavour, he didn’t understand why some liked it in their tea, he hated when it was put on sandwiches or cake or anything really. But, standing stock still in front of a rather large display of honey in that 24-hour Tesco, Louis found himself grabbing the largest jar of “100% pure London-local honey” and adding it to his trolley, simply because he knew it would make Harry smile.
Louis always wanted to make Harry smile.
Or the one where Louis pines after Harry, Harry is passionate about helping save the bees, and a late night shopping trip gone wrong doesn't end quite as horribly as Louis imagines.
🤣 On the Go by @phdmama (T, 2k)
Prompt: ok so i saw a truck today and i thought it said MANSCAPE but it actually said MAINSCAPE and it was a landscaping company. but then i thought LARRY AU. where louis owns a landscaping company called MANSCAPE and harry thinks it’s some sort of in-home pubic hair grooming company, so he calls to make an appointment, there’s some discussion of whether he wants his bushes trimmed as well, and then when it’s time for the appointment, harry’s like half-naked waiting around in a robe or something and louis shows up with lawnmowers. 
🤣 Zoey by wabadabadaba / @bigxrig (G, 2k)
Harry knew his first name, but he liked the way Dr. Tomlinson sounded more. Harry watched as Louis unclasped her harness and set it aside and pet her back and under her chin. Louis kissed the top of her head and murmured sweet nothings to her- mostly about how pretty she is and how well behaved she is. Harry wished it was him.
or Harry has a huge crush on his cat's veterinarian and finally decides to do something about it.
🤣 Stole My Heart by @haztobegood (NR, 2k)
“Oh my god, Niall.” The door slams shut as Harry rushes into the flat. He’s still panting from his rush to get away from the scene of his crime. “You won’t believe what just happened!”
Niall is sitting on the couch in their tiny living room. He looks up from his laptop. “What happened?”
“The worst thing. I’ll never recover. I just reached into a box of free samples outside that new chicken restaurant. Only it wasn’t free samples. It was a man. Holding a box of chicken nuggets. His chicken nuggets. I stole this man’s food, Niall!”
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y3nze1 · 1 month
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𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍 | c.3
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: I / II / III / IV / V / VI
𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Happy Readings!
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"Y/n!~" Loralie called out. purse in hand, she ran towards you, happily approaching, clearly there was an interesting news that she couldn't keep to herself with that kind of energy. "Y/n..!" you cut her off for a moment. "Loralie, if it's a party, i swear i am not willing to hook myself on some hooch, you know tha-" she pressed a finger on your lips. "Shush, this is most likely the party of the century, Y/n!"
You let out a soft chuckle. "You always say that.. and you know my answer. as always.. it's a n-" she cut you off again. With that, you rolled your eyes. "I already bought you an outfit. stop yappin, take a bath. get yourself ready for tonight, so we are gonna cut a rug as i say so!" she exclaimed. crossing your arms as you responded with a sigh.
You could see the excitement on Loralie's face as she spoke of the upcoming party. You couldn't help but feel a little intrigued, wondering what could be in store for the night. Not wanting to disappoint ger, you nodded along, doing as she wanted. "Alright, alright," you said with a groan, giving in to her enthusiasm. "I'll get cleaned up and get ready."
Loralie beamed at you, clearly pleased with your response. She took your hand and led you into the bathroom, helping you with your bath preparations. "Darlin, We gotta make sure you shine, you dazzle, and hotsy totsy!~" she ran the bath, pouring in the things needed to make it purely bubble. As you bathed, you couldn't help but wonder about the mystery event that Loralie had planned for the night. You weren't sure what to expect from then on.
Patted dry, you followed along behind her as she pulled your hand out the bathroom. giggling to herself. "Alright Darlin.. don't you worry. i am goin to make ya' stunnin." she softly gazed at you. sitting you down by the vanity mirror. drying down your hair.
For the next few hours. you spent the day getting ready. a light blush on your cheek, just the right amount of soft mascara. and a beautiful shade of red lipstick, of course. you weren't keen on using makeup, but my goodness, did you look like a shining star for the evening. coming to dazzle upon everyone just once for a span of thousands of years.
As you finished getting ready, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building inside you. Everything was just perfect - the dress, the makeup, the hair... you felt like a princess, like a star, ready to take on the world. And with Loralie by your side, you felt like anything was possible.
Loralie looked just as excited as you were, and as you stood up from the vanity, she handed you a gift-wrapped box. "Well, I might as well give you your present early.." she said with a smile, handing you the box. You opened it up, revealing a beautiful necklace - a silver chain with a beautiful blue jewel at the center. It was the perfect finishing touch to your outfit.
As you put on the necklace, Loralie took your head to the mirror. smiling softly, "Look at that darlin.. do you know what i see?.." you paused for a moment, taking a good look at yourself. "i see beautiful, dashing, wonderful woman.." she sighed, pure satisfied. "oh my, you're there too!" she let out a laugh as you rolled your eyes in annoyance. "oh I'm just teasing, Y/n.. Don't be such a bearcat!~"
Loralie took your hand and led you out of the room, down the stairs and out the door. You stood outside, feeling the cool air on your skin and feeling overwhelmed by the excitement. Loralie ushered you into a waiting car, and soon you were on your way to the mysterious party that Loralie had been planning. The ride was full of anticipation - you had no idea what to expect, but you knew that whatever it was, it was going to be a night to remember.
As the car pulled up to the venue, you could see that it was a sprawling estate, lit up with countless lights and surrounded by an intricate garden. Loralie hopped out of the car and you followed, feeling your heart pound as you approached the front door.
You took a deep breath, ready to face whatever the night had in store. With Loralie by your side, you felt like you could take on the world.
The party was unlike anything you had ever seen. The estate was teeming with people dressed to the nines, sipping on champagne and cocktails, and dancing to the music of a live band. The atmosphere was electric, and you found yourself being drawn into the excitement.
As Loralie pulled you along, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and majesty. The venues, the attire, the people; everything was so elegant and refined. It was a world completely different from the one you were used to.
As you made your way through the crowd, you couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and amazement. The venue was a testament to human ingenuity and creativity, and you found yourself lost in the excitement and beauty of it all. But despite the grandeur and majesty, there was also a sense of warmth and community. The crowd was filled with people of all ages, nationalities, and backgrounds, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and having a good time. It was a truly international scene.
And through it all, Loralie was by your side. She helped you navigate the crowd and introduced you to various people, helping you make connections and network. The night was full of possibilities and opportunities, and you found yourself feeling more confident and empowered than ever before. As the night wore on, the party only became more and more lively. The music grew louder, the drinks flowed freely, and the dancing grew more wild and frenetic. You couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom and joy, as if you were part of something bigger than yourself.
For a moment you stopped, you stood by the middle of the crowd, catching the look of a young man, staring back at you. The moment felt like a stop motion, You felt a flutter in your chest, that familiar feeling that came over you, nervous, you looked away instead. You looked around the crowd, scanning for Loralie. She was still talking to an array of people, but she caught your glance and motioned for you to come over. You cut through the crowd, avoiding people's drinks and plates with ease, but then you felt someone bumping into you. Before you could turn around to apologize, a soft voice sounded in your ear.
"Watch your step, my dear. You wouldn't want to trip and fall, now do you?" That voice, that particular voice, The voice was deep and melodic, and a pair of warm, brown eyes met yours. You felt like time had stopped on you again, the music was faded and the only thing you could hear was his voice. Finally after a good while of staring, you brushed your shoulders gently and nervously.
"Oh," your voice sounded small and shy compared to his, "no.. no, i-i'm sorry, i didn't look at my surroundings that well." He chuckled, and you felt your heart fluttering. "Well, better watch out next time, my dear." He held out his hand, looking at you deeply, "I'm Alastor, Alastor Altruist."
No, is this actually real? you really are talking to him, face to face. Alastor, the radio man, Your fingers gently wrapped around his, and you smiled shyly, "Pleasure to meet you, Alastor, I'm Y/n, Y/n L/n". Your voice sounded weak, but your smile was bright.
He looked into your eyes, and he leaned in slightly, he out his hand once more, muttering. "would you like to have a dance with me, Ms. Y/n?". You were still processing what was happening when you both started walking towards the center of the floor. Alastor held your hand and his other hand wrapped around your waist as he leaned in closer to you.
The song playing was slow and romantic, and as you both started to sway in time to the beat, you felt a strange sense of calm and serenity wash over you. You couldn't help but notice the way Alastor looked at you - his eyes seemed to pierce right through you. "Your voice, it seems so familiar to me." he whispered, you kept your mouth shut at the moment. not daring to talk back. instead you continued to dance with him. utterly silent. basking in each one's gaze.
You felt like you were the only two people in existence, lost in a world of your own. You closed your eyes and lost yourself in the moment, oblivious to anything else around you. For that brief moment in time, you were perfectly content, perfectly happy. But as the song came to an end, you were suddenly snapped back to reality by the loud applause and cheers of those around you.
You smiled at the sudden outburst of the crowd, giggling. Alastor, turned to you. "Would you like to get a Wiggle on with me? a stroll by the garden nearby, per say?" in response, you nodded. he pulled your hand, leading you through the crowd as you two giggled. You followed Alastor through the large crowded party, the smell of food and alcohol filling the air as you navigated towards the garden. The night air was cool and refreshing, and the sound of the party began to fade into the distance.
As Alastor led you onto a small footpath, you began to notice the beauty of the dark night sky, illuminated by the lights of the city below. The sky was so clear that you could make out the shapes of the galaxies, and the stars seemed so close you felt like you could reach out and touch them.
"Oh, this is quite the view, isn't it?" Alastor said as he sat down on the bench, "I never get tired of this place, it's so peaceful." He pulled a cigarette case out of his pocket, "Do you want a butt, my dear?" he offered one to you. You shook your head no, not staring blankly at the sky.
For a second, you looked down. staring at your feet. "I've heard your radio podcast before." he looked at you, his smile widened. "really?.. then you must also know this frequent requestor of mine, have you?" He's mentioning you. you only nodded back in response. "For a listener, I've never been this.. smitten with this particular girl before. she'd call almost everyday, requesting me songs, non-stop. and.. every time, I'd pick up my telephone. i find myself hoping, she's on the other line."
He paused. looking at you. "I'm rambling, aren't i?" You felt yourself blushing slightly as Alastor continued to speak about you. He was right, you had been obsessed with his radio show for as long as you could remember. You listened to every episode, waiting for your turn to call and request a song.
And now, here you were, sitting next to him, listening to him talk about you. It felt like a dream, like something that could never really be. You smiled wide, feeling your heart race in your chest. "No, no, please continue," you said, your voice soft and barely above a whisper, "I.. i love hearing you talk" then you realized what you said. you let out a cough. "i-i.. mean about.. her, i like hearing.. umm.. you talk about her." He laughed at your attempt, finding it quite endearing. "it's fine, i don't mind. it's nice to meet someone who's very interested in you" You breathed a sigh of relief as Alastor laughed, finding it quite endearing. You were relieved that he didn't think you were weird for accidentally saying that you loved hearing him talk. You felt your face turn bright red, but you couldn't help but smile.
"It's nice to meet someone who's so interested in me too," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, You laughed as well, feeling more at ease. You knew that you were probably coming across as a total loser, but you couldn't help it. Being around Alastor made you feel a way that you couldn't even begin to describe. You felt like you could talk to him forever and never get bored. "You've mentioned this caller of yours. and.. you've striked me curious. She sounds to be quiet.. delightful, in your perspective.. i-i just wanna know.. what would you say to her if.. she were hear, the one listening.. to you."
Alastor paused for a moment, considering your question. "Well, I suppose I would tell her how much her calls mean to me.. And how much I look forward to each and every one.. every single song requests of her" He looked down at you, his face serious. "I would tell her that she's a source of inspiration.. at least.. my inspiration, that she makes me feel like I'm not just a radio host, but something more." He looked back at the sky, breathing in deeply. "I would tell her that she's the most special girl in the world, and that I'm glad i had the chance to even cross my god forsaken path with hers.."
You fell silent, turning to look at him. "So.. what's her name?" you stared at him. he smiled, looking up to the night sky.
"Daisy, My lovely, Darling, Daisy.."
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emwheezie · 1 month
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Happy Valentine's Day! Y'all can have a tiny bit of Meg and Tony content, as a treat... This is a scene from really early in the story...I guess it's kind of like a teaser for what's to come in the future?
INT. Evening. Meg and Tony are sitting on their second hand sofa, surrounded by mostly unpacked moving boxes in their cramped living room.
TONY: We stopped talking frequently and it was weird?  I think ignoring his messages was some type of self sabotage.
MEG: Having more friends will be good for you. You won’t have to be alone when I’m on shift.
TONY: I was thinking of trying to find a second job and coordinating with your work schedule… that way I don’t have to spend that time alone. 
MEG: You work so hard for us Tony. You don’t have to kill yourself over a 2nd job that’s only going to pay $8 an hour…Being so close to the hospital, I don’t have to take the Lowell Line into Boston everyday anymore…those train tickets add up. See, we’re already saving money there! 
TONY: Yeah…?
MEG: We just got here... Let’s get settled and try to build a new social circle before we both fall into routine. It’ll be good for us. 
TONY: Okay… yeah, you’re right… (Flirty) You’re always right, aren’t you? Are ya gonna come rescue me If I try to self sabotage though? 
MEG: Every time. I’m your girlfriend- (She looks at her ring and corrects herself) fiancee…That’s part of my job. I’ll be there when you self-sabotage and also (starting to be silly) protect you from goblins, ghosts, evil garden gnomes and-
Tony: Skin-walkers?
Meg: I don’t think I could take a skin-walker. But I could probably fight a bear for you.
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honeykaes · 11 months
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—𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
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✦ pairing: scaramouche x reader x dottore
✦ w/c: 2.2k
✦ warning: dark content, yandere content, 18+ content, minors do not interact
✦ disclaimer: gender-neutral!reader, yandere content, god/goddesses au, based on hades and persephone myth, all characters in genshin are gods, dottore claimed reader since birth, implied stalking, character death, isolation, gaslighting, unedited, scara is referred to as wanderer and scaramouche.
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Death always loomed over you in your life when you came to the nation of knowledge. After arriving in Sumeru, your parents came down with an illness killing them in a week leaving you to fend for yourself. As a child, you were passed household to household, each dying for some odd reasons until you were pushed onto the Eremites—the people in the rainforest claiming I was the Eremites’ problem now. People in the desert village claimed you were cursed, opting not to help or support you growing up. Even in the small orphanage you were in, there was no solace, you just patiently waited for the day you could leave.
You were grown now though, you couldn’t let yourself be downed by your past. The small joys in your life came from your gardening utilizing what little seeds you could get from traders and creating your own small box of herbs and vegetables shielded by the sun’s ruthless rays. Although not everyone in the village would eat your crops claiming they were a bad omen, some lonely orphans would come enjoying the sweet produce you had to offer. You were grateful for Nahida, the Goddess of Academics, Harvest, and Forests for blessing you. After all, things in your life were beginning to calm down, thankfully.
Until he came
Through time, the small village began to branch out into the surrounding desert in hopes to start building larger homes and places to try to help the increasing population. The civilization began to creep into the rainforest, as the villagers cut down tree after tree. No one expected this simple action would anger the Gods.
You were in the market one day, trying to get new supplies when the winds picked up quickly. The large gusts of wind made you drop everything in your large to try and cover your face, it’s cool air nipping your skin. The sky became dark and cloudy, large booms emitting from them. 
Soon enough, a figure descended from the sky. In the middle of the village, people were in awe looking at the descended God. He had short hair, reminiscent of navy along with his eyes glowering below at the crowd. His eyebrows were furrowed, glaring at the mortals of this village, arms crossed in the process.
“I always told my naive friend that humans were lowly, greedy people. To think you proved my point exactly right as you destroyed his blessed realm,” he seethed, voice booming. An older man ran up to him before bowing. He was clearly shaking.
“Oh Wanderer, God of Hurricanes and Storms, son of Ei, Goddess of Time and Lighting, please forgive us. We were ignorant to think our thoughts of expansion would hurt the merciful Nahida,” he cried out. Wanderer rolled his eyes, kicking the old man. His body landed on one of the wooden houses, making a dent. He wasn’t moving, eyes still agape…
“Nahida had blessed this village before and this is how you repay her?! You, mortals, have not experienced a true storm before, and I shall take such salvation in blowing this pitiful town to shreds for hurting my dearest friend. Because I know she is a kind and self-sacrificing person, you will have a month to get your lives in order before they are claimed by the underworld” he announced. Villagers began to cry and scream. You resisted the urge to cry. Although you had little money, you could afford to travel to another village deeper within the desert before the month ended that was blessed by the Goddess of Protection, Dehya. 
“Please Wanderer! Mercy! There are children in this village who haven’t experienced their full life,” another begged. Wanderer clicked his tongue, not glaring. It seemed like he was enjoying the terrified cries of this village. The man speaking looked over at you before sneering. His boney hands clenched your wrist tightly before dragging you towards the god. You cursed under your breath, trying to get free from his grasp but it wasn’t successful. The man threw you onto the hard ground, right in front of the Wanderer.
“Would you prefer a sacrifice instead?! This person is a cursed creature. Everyone around them dies. By killing them, our sins in this village can be cleansed, right?” the man babbled, fear and insanity dripping in every world. 
You shifted your head, glaring at the crazy man. He didn’t make sense. He just wanted to use you as a scapegoat. Wanderer looked down at you, a shadow covering his eyes. His hand reached out towards your cheek but didn’t make content, opting to loom near it. Your body quivered in fear, adrenaline pumped through your system. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes. 
 Was this your end? Would this wrathful God kill you right here and now?
He pulled his arm back, covering it in his kimono’s robe once more. He looked up at the old man. Wanderer’s face ceased to that of anger, opting for a more calm demeanor instead. 
“...I accept, but they will not be my sacrifice. You are lucky they remain in this village and didn’t leave from the ostracization you all have done. I expect you all to show them the utmost kindness before I collect them,” he stated. The Wanderer caught your eyes one more time, an unreadable expression on his face as he helped your shocked form back onto your feet.
“When the tempest begins, I shall collect you to the heavens,” Wanderer murmured. With one last sinister glare to the people, Wanderer’s body vanished into the winds, the gust hitting everyone around the square.
You didn’t say a word, looking at where the god was once. Your body couldn’t stop shaking. You looked down towards your hands, before hugging yourself. What did this god even want with you in the first place? You couldn’t exactly escape now. 
The villagers just stood there in shock, looking at you, the person they cursed so much.
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Three weeks went by quickly, as the villagers tried to adjust to the second chance the God of Hurricanes and Storms gave them. You tried
Within the three weeks that had passed, the village shifted its perspective on you, you felt suffocated. They claimed you were blessed, opting to always buy your produce. The garden you loved was desolate from demand. The villagers were beginning to suffocate you with their false kindness, gifts, and more.
You could only find some sort of peace in the deforested area, now dictated cursed land. Your eyes wandered to the amounts of large tree stumps around you, cracked and grim. The once rich dark soil was dried. You’d never have guessed the forest became a graveyard. 
“Will I die…” you muttered to yourself, kicking the rocks in front of you. Wanderer claimed he would bring you into the heavens. You couldn’t imagine another way he would do this. Others claimed you may be turned into a deity, or a nymph, your power to his choosing. Regardless of the positives, you didn’t want to go through with this though. Seeing Wanderer’s bloodthirst was enough to see he wasn’t someone to be messed with, and you didn’t want to have another interaction from that.  
“Do you want to die?” a voice whispered into your ear. You shivered, snapping your head into the direction of the deep voice, but there was nobody there. You started to back up before you ran into someone’s chest. Your eyes widened, close to those of saucers, before you looked up to see the figure.
Scars littered his pale skin. His long, cyan hair shifted as he tilted his head as intense glowing red eyes focused on you. As a mischievous smirk crept onto his face, you notice how sharp all his teeth were.
“Did I scare you, darling?” he teased. You pushed your back away from him, turning your body to properly face him. You’d heard the rumors before.
The God of Death had eyes that would shake whomever he gazed at. It seemed that rumor was true, you were trembling
You clenched your jaw tightly watching the god’s gaze on you. He clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes at your hostility. 
“You humans always act the same when you see me. Whenever you mention death, you have a chance of summoning me,” he chuckled. You forced yourself to swallow to lubricate your throat before letting out a heavy sigh.
“...I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be rude to the God of Death,” you stammered. Dottore chuckled, putting his hand to his mouth, eyes narrowing at you.
“Although I appreciate you know your place, relax. No need to be so formal, at least not right now,” he stated. You looked down, worry swimming in your eyes as thoughts rapidly passed through you. Dottore noticed your fearful behavior, but it didn’t stop him from getting closer. 
“...I’m not here to collect your soul if that’s what you’re worried about—at least yet,” he revealed. Some relaxation returned to your body, but you still remained on edge. The last time you met a God, things didn’t work out for you. 
“You know your pretty popular talk right now with the Gods. To think Scaramouche would take interest in a human? It’s unheard of,” he chuckled. You didn’t want to think about the Wanderer right now. Your freedom would be taken away any day now.
“Gee...I’m so grateful,” you muttered. Dottore quirked an eyebrow out, his toothy cheshire grin returning as he leaned into you. He smelt of ash and...something sweet?
“Although I’m not to collect your soul today, tomorrow is another story. You know, you’re going to perish tomorrow,” he confessed. You clasped your hands tightly around each other, a fake smile creeping onto your lips.
“...I figured as much. I think I’ve come to terms with it. Life for me wasn’t that great anyway,” you muttered. Dottore’s grinning faltered, looking away from you and towards the barren forest. His eyes glared at the stumps, almost in jealousy. 
“Why’s that?” he asked. You rubbed your shoulders to try and ease your compiling fear. 
“Everyone I’m around seems to die. My parents, my guardians...everyone. I grew up for the most part alone, no one in the village…even people in the rainforest, wanted to associate with me,” you confessed. Dottore hummed, looking back at you.
“...You could always change your fate,” Dottore suggested. Your eyebrows furrowed, confused about what he was insinuating. Amused once more by your reaction, he chuckled.
“Changing something like that will cost something, right? Nothing like that comes free,” you exclaimed. Dottore shrugged his shoulders, lifting his palm out. An azure fire produced in his palm, before it ceased revealing a pomegranate. 
“By eating death’s fruit, you can avoid your fate. Doesn’t that sound good,” he revealed. You gazed at the maroon fruit in his hand before looking back at his fiery orbs. 
“...You still haven’t answered my question,” you stated. Dottore scoffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 
“Does it truly matter? By all means, if you want to be taken away by that defective God, fine. Expect your death to be painful before he drags your soul up towards the heavens where you’ll serve him for eternity. I thought you witnessed his temperament before, but if you think you can deal with it, I’ll just take my business elsewhere,” he hummed, turning his back to you. 
He started to walk off. Your heart loudly thumped in your chest. Your one chance of freedom was walking away. Your body shook in frustration before you ran up and caught the god’s wrist. Unamused eyes gazed down at you.
“...Please help me,” you begged, avoiding his piercing gaze. His hand dragged down towards your eyes revealing the pomegranate.
“Then eat, mortal,” he muttered. You grasped the fruit hesitantly, placing it on your lips. No smell was coming from it. Your eyes wandered up towards Dottore, who had a small smile on his face. 
What choice did you truly have?
Biting down onto the fruit, its sweet justice spewed in your mouth staining your teeth a red hue. You looked down towards the bitten fruit, head feeling light as if you were drunk. You placed a hand on your forehead, dropping the pomegranate onto the forest floor. Dottore began to laugh in his low deep voice. He sauntered over, lifting up your chin higher towards him. You looked back dazed and confused—vision beginning to haze. He leaned down, placing his leathery lips onto yours. 
“After all these years, you’re finally mine (Y/n)...”
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Fluttering your eyes open, you noticed you were in a bedroom. Your head pounded as your body felt weak. In squinted eyes, you tried to soak up where you were. You’d never seen a bedroom like this before. You moved your body up, towards the door hearing two loud voices yelling at one another.
“Dammit Dottore! How dare you take my betrothal away! They were a kind, pure soul. Your stupidity has left a whole village dead,” a familiar voice yelled out. Your body, covered in a black robe, you shivered as the room temperature dropped. The other man laughed, unfazed by the other’s outburst. 
“How dare you attempt to steal my infatuation. I wasn’t just going to let you take away the person I’ve claimed for so long—” You walked back towards the bed, confused and scared. 
How could you forget?
Death always was in your life. It took away you parents, and people in your life over and over again until it was just you remaining.
...It must’ve been Dottore all this time. 
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tabithian · 1 year
Text
Hob accidentally gains himself a flock of bodyguard birdfriends???
Like.
He's not really a bird person himself, but Dream clearly is - between Matthew (and what he's told Hob of Jessamy, little bits here, there, a sad little smile and all kinds of guilt that lingers) and feeding wild birds and such.
Also. Reason for bird feeders and whatnot all around the land the New Inn sits on because it's nice, isn't it. Customers can watch the birds and it keeps the birds from being pests about things.
(I kind of like the idea of the New Inn having a small garden/herbs or what have you for fresh foodstuffs? At the very least Hob has a windowsill herb garden situation going on fo his personal use, but I digress.)
Anyway.
Bird accommodations around the New Inn that may or may not be there due to Dream and his fondness for birds and Hob's own fondness (hahaha, yes, ~fondness) for Dream.
Anyway, that's all New Inn business, but Hob's office at whatever university or where he teaches, that's different, right.
Because he finds this little adolescent crow or raven tangled up in a bit of wire or string from a banner that was hanging up from something or other someone didn't get all of when they took said banner down.
Nothing too serious but the poor thing's tired itself out trying to free itself and looks all raggedy because that awkward teenager stage in life, right?
So Hob, who thought he'd more peace and quiet in his office for once - the New Inn's getting some work done that day, small bit of renovation or upgrades his presence isn't necessary for - grabs a box and old towel he keeps in his office and tucks the little guy in a corner until it's rested up enough to be released.
(Hob's worried about the stray cats roaming the campus finding the bird before it's rested up, so yes.)
Anyway.
He goes to his office with his new bird-friend tucked under one arm and get a fair amount of work done.
The little crow - raven? Is quiet for most of it, although towards the end of the day it makes little crow/raven noises while Hob mutters to himself about the papers he's grading?
Just.
Hob being "Oh, come on," and "Are you kidding me with this?" and so on and his new bird-friend is like ooh, what now?, but in bird.
(Hob totally doesn't notice the odd looks he gets when co-workers pop their heads in to see what the noise is all about, or a student drops in because office hours, but y'know, Hob.)
Anyway, his little bird friend hops around a bit when Hob releases it at the end of the day, all rested up and such. Yells at Hob for a bit, because bird? And then flies away just fine, and Hob assumes that's that?
But no.
Turns out his new bird-friend has feelings about Hob helping it because it's back the next day, tapping its little bird beack against Hob's office window, so Hob has no choice but to open said window?
And there's some litte shiny thing on Hob's windowsill, like payment for helping his bird-friend out.
Hob is like.
He's heard stories like this right, knows crows and ravens are smart bastards. But until his new bird-friend his only up-close interactions with them was what little - if any - interaction he had with Jessamy and Matthew, and they're not exactly normal birds, so.
Yes.
Anyway.
This goes on for a while, and Hob sets up a feeder for his bird-friend or something and Hob gains a reputation around campus as the Bird Guy even though he really didn't do anything to earn such a title?
Hob does read up on birds and his bird-friend in general, enough to be able to tell the difference between crows and ravens. Thinks Matthew would appreciate that much, if it occurred to him to mention all of his bird-related shenanigans to Matthew or even Dream? Which it doesn't, because it was just some small incident that happened one day, you know? Barely worth noting really, that Hob's been adopted by this little raven he helped out once.
And then his Raven friend goes and starts a family, builds a nest somewhere - a tree outside Hob's office window? Something like that, and maybe Hob's got some bird-students (human students studying birds, to be clear)from the school asking if the can set up a live webcam or watching Hob's bird-friend and his family?
Which, okay.
Hob doesn't get why they're asking him aside from the bit of it being so close to his work office windows, but sure. It'll be good for the bird-students and anyone who wants to check in on the bird-family from time to time.
So that turns into a Thing.
Because bits of string and whatever Hob leaves out for his bird-friend to line their nest with that may or may not be school colors for wherever Hob teaches, who knows.
(Maybe there are a few loose threads stealthily plucked from one of Hob's favorite scarves in there too. ;D)
Anyway.
Hob's bird-friend raises his little bird-family outside his office window - and over the years their kids raise their bird-families nearby.
Every so often Hob will find shiny things or other bits of interests left behind on his windowsill from his bird-friend one of the others from the flock and is like :DDDDDDDD because how cool, right?
And he'll be walking around campus when said bird-friend just lands on a shoulder and chatters at him while he heads to class or eats lunch outside or grabs coffee from one of the stands around campus, and it's like.
Normal to him, because Hob.
Various students are like wtf, why so many ravens on campus? Hob is like *hands* because hey, don't look at him. He just helped out a bird in need that one time, everything else is out of his hands, right?
Dream, whenever he's visiting Hob at his workplace is *eyebrow raise* because Hob (and whatever other staff/students) were smart enough to befriend or at least not antagonize the ravens on campus have feathery friends/bodyguards whether they know it or not and it's kind of hilarious?
(Also, also, at some point there's something going on with the Dreaming or Dream himself sets Matthew to keep an eye on Hob Just In Case? But of course Matthew is out of place there and Hob's bird-friends harass Matthew until he has no choice but seek sanctuary in Hob's office or be driven off? And Dream was pretty insistent Matthew keep an eye on Hob, so this counts, right?
But then Hob wheedles the reason Matthew's been spying on him out him to Matthew's chagrin - Hob's been meaning to talk to Matthew about that for a while but bird, right? Able to fly away and anyway, thank goodness Hob has his bird-friends looking out for him because wow, okay.
Wow.
Shenanigans in which Hob involves himself ~most insistently in water trouble Dream is in because "Friends" and poor Matthew is like "Your human has a whole flock of bodyguards boss!"
(Hob is like ??? because no? He just has bird-friend and bird-friend's family, but whatever, more important things to deal with.)
And then I lose the thread again, but anyway.
Hob and his (many, many, many) bird-friends.
Who also adopt Dream into their strange family when stops by Hob's workplace more and more to both his and Hob's amusement/delight and just.
Matthew side-eyeing Hob because this is a freaking gang, is what it is, Gadling, don't think he doesn't know.
*hands*
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kitthepurplepotato · 10 months
Text
MWRMI Part 2
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My Weird Roommate, Midoriya Izuku!
📦 Week 0.5 - Let’s get settled! 📦
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Previous part Master List
Warnings: Swear words, mentions of Deku’s “peach” and other parts in a non-cheeky way. I also made Deku look like a sugar daddy by accident but I swear that was not my intention, he just loves to share his money with his friends, he’s just nice like that!
16 + because of the joke in the last part of this chapter.
Summary: Y/N meets pro hero Deku’s mysterious cat and gets to know Midoriya a little bit too much for her liking. (That’s a lie, she secretly loves it.) Bakugou gives Y/N a flattering nickname.
There is an ugly attempt of a blueprint by the end of the story about Deku’s flat if the layout gets too confusing!
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It has only been an hour since your world has turned upside down. You’re staring at the ceiling in your new room; which is absolutely massive by the way; your bed is extremely comfortable, even with the lack of sheets and pillows. Your room has two massive wall-to-wall windows; one facing the garden area with the pool and the hot tub, the other one facing the city; the view will be absolutely stunning when all the city lights come to life.
You hear a rustle outside your door and a thump of a cardboard box being placed in the hallway; that’s when you realize you are being an absolute prick right now.
You kind of forgot about the van outside the building stuffed to the brim with all your boxes and old furniture. Deku must have went down to tell them where to bring the stuff up. Knowing this guy he probably did all the work for them.
You jump up from the comfortable bed and make your way to open the door a little bit too aggressively. The side of the door meets a fluffy green head. Well, now you’ve really done it.
“I’m so sorry, Deku-san! Are you hurt?” You crouch down to the poor guy, trying to access the damage. You heart makes a few somersaults when you touch the ridiculously fluffy and soft curls. That counts as a damage, right?
You, Y/N, 23 years old fangirl, touching pro hero Deku’s hair, like it’s no biggie. How is this all real? Oh, your face is really hot. And so is pro hero Deku in his fucking joggers and oversized all might thank top.
“You don’t need to be so polite, just call me Midoriya.” The hero giggles. - Jesus, why is he so adorable?! - “Also, I would be a pretty lame hero if a single door would be able to hurt me. Try throwing the whole building in my face next time, that might make me a tiny bit dizzy at least.”
Your embarrassment fades away with your loud laughter after hearing Deku… Midoriya making such a joke with such a straight face. You look around the hallway, seeing a bunch of boxes already placed next to the wall.
“I’m sorry, I forgot about the boxes, I’ll get the rest! It’s your free day, you deserve to chill.” You really don’t want him to do all the work for you, even though you know it’s probably not a big deal for him.
“No worries, there’s only 10 boxes left, I can bring them up in one go!” Midoriya exclaims, like it’s an absolutely normal thing to be able to hold 10 massive boxes full of heavy books on one shoulder. The hero world is amazing.
“I need to see that.” You accidentally say your last thought out loud, which only makes the green haired hero giggle out loud, again.
“Well, what are you waiting for then?” A mischievous smile spreads on the hero’s face, his eyes shining with challenge. He takes your hand and pulls you forward to the main entrance like you’ve known each other for ages; it’s the complete opposite of the high school version of him, at least if Jirou’s old stories were true.
Back in his first year of high school, Midoriya Izuku was a shy boy, really lanky and really awkward with everyone, especially with the ladies. He was severely bullied by his childhood best friend, Bakugou Katsuki, who somehow became a close friend of his during his high school years, like the terrible bullying on Dynamight’s part has never even happened. There are a lot of foggy gaps in the story, parts Jirou didn’t want to share for the sake of the other person, but eventually, Midoriya has changed; he’s become stronger, a man full of confidence but his empathy towards everyone only grew stronger as the time went by. His heart is big enough to love every single living, breathing thing, without a limit.
You let yourself be pulled towards the door, down the hallway and into the elevator, your heart full of anticipation to see your favorite hero do something so domestic, just for you.
Ahh, you are such a fangirl, goddammit.
Midoriya goes all out to show off, just to make you laugh; he puts 9 boxes on his shoulder and spins the tenth one on his fingers like a basketball. You can’t help but giggle, your eyes shining like the fangirl you are, absolutely fucking smitten with the man opposite of you. Midoriya takes one glance at your face and laughs with a hint of a blush on his chubby cheeks and gives you the box. All your muscles strain from the weight of it, and you can’t help but wonder how the fuck did he not break his finger. “Team work makes the dream work!” Midoriya grins as he steps into the elevator to go back to his apartment….
…Which is also your apartment.
You’ll never stop fangirling about this. Never.
After putting the boxes down in the hallway, you hear a rustle from one of the open boxes; by the look of it, the tape didn’t hold properly and snapped, leaving the box half open.
Two beige ears stick out from the small space between the two flaps of the box, alert.
“All Meowt! Get out of there!” Midoriya giggles at the intruder and takes it out of the box; a massive cat with beige fur and barely visible leopard print on his back. You almost choke on your saliva from trying not to laugh at the obese cat. His mismatched eyes; one blue, one dark brown; look at his owner angrily, clearly not amused by being taken out of his new “home” so abruptly. He moves his chubby arms to attack the “offender”, but makes his mind up in the middle of the movement; it’s too much bother to raise these fluffy paws! After a few seconds, the cat just lets his body go limp in Midoriya’s hand, making him look like a sack of potatoes.
“He’s so chubby!” You cry out, but by the look of it, this wasn’t the right thing to say as Midoriya puts the cat into his arms and covers his little ears with a pout on his face.
“Don’t say that, Y/N! He’s self conscious!” He tries to reprimand you and you swear you try not to laugh even harder than you already are, but it’s impossible. “Don’t laugh, Kacchan called him a fat bitch a few weeks ago because he tried to get some food out of his plate and he started throwing up right after!” Midoriya looks so sure of his reasoning and you don’t have the heart to tell him that the cat probably threw up because he actually ate some of the food which knowing the fiery hero was probably full of sriracha or something definitely not good for the poor cat’s sensitive stomach.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” You try to get some air into your lungs after all the laughing.
“So…” Midoriya puts the cat down who runs into the bedroom opposite of yours. “Can I help you unpack? I’m not sure when I’ll be home properly again, so… I want to tell you more about the flat? Get to know you, and stuff…” the hero scratches his fluffy head, embarrassed. “I mean, you don’t need to say yes, I understand if this is too much for you, I mean, when I met my idol for the first time I was about to pee myself and even after months of being together almost every day I still managed to freak out every time I remembered who he is, I still freak out sometimes when he comes over and plays with All Meowt…”
Oh yeah, you were so busy laughing you kinda forgot the name of the little rascal. It’s a really fucking ridiculous name.
“Please, breathe.” You snort while you look at Midoriya’s face; he’s flushed and out of breath, thanks to him trying to get all that rambling out without taking any air into his poor lungs. “I’ll accept your help, thank you.”
This is how you end up in your room with pro hero Deku, who’s extremely busy right now with handling your Deku merch with utmost care. Thankfully, the room has quite a lot of shelves so your hero merch can be displayed nicely; Midoriya tried to persuade you to have your merch in the living room, but after 5 minutes of back and forth arguing you compromised by having 1 Deku figurine and a few other hero ones in the living room, while the rest stays in yours.
It’s a really fucking weird thing to be able to argue about such a silly thing with your favorite hero. You wrote so many fanfictions about your daydreams of living with the Number 1 hero, but the real thing is so different, you are actually not sure you know this hero at all at this point.
The base of his character is the same as the one in your fanfictions; kind, understanding with a heart full of love, but in real life, he is so much more than that; he’s less of a hero and more like a nerd, a super hyper and excitable person who’s overprotective and just so fucking lovely it actually hurts your brain and your heart.
After the argument is settled, Midoriya tells you about the stuff you might need to do in case he can’t make it home; feed All Meowt, pet All Meowt, water the plants, make sure there is bread and rice in the house in case he actually makes it home and basic things like that. It’s really not so different from the way you lived until now. Your old roommate was an unviable peace of shit who would have starved if it’s not for you, so having cheaper rent for all your hard work this time is a gift from God himself.
You end up cleaning up the mess until later in the afternoon and you both decide to order some takeaway as you are both too tired to actually make food tonight. Midoriya pulls you out of your room to show you around flat properly; apparently pulling people around is a thing Midoriya does, or at least it is now; then Midoriya stops by the massive wall-to-wall window in the living room and points at a big fake plant in front of it.
“So this is my favorite plant, the only one who didn’t die on me yet.” He shows you the plastic plant with a proud face. “I’ll get some more now that you are around! It only needs water once a week but I once forgot to water it for a month and he was still okay! So don’t worry about it too much!”
This is a fucking plastic plant. And he doesn’t know. This is…
“So how long have you had this plant, Midoriya?”
“Two years. I got it from the squad after I started to cry about accidentally killing all my plants when I was drunk.”
… absolutely ridiculous.
This man… this pro hero… this legend… has been watering a fucking plastic plant for two fucking years and no one had the heart to tell him that it’s fake.
This man is fucking precious. Oh my god, he is so fucking precious, you can’t even.
His friend are also absolute legends, because you are quite sure they had to “water the plant” while he was away to the US and they probably did it for him, out of pure pity.
You keep a straight face and pet the leaves of the plant to make sure he knows you’ll take care of it properly. You’ll go to the nearest garden center tomorrow and buy all the fucking plants in the word for this precious little boy and you’ll make sure they don’t die on him.
The living room is absolutely massive by the way; it has a corner couch that’s big enough to seat at least 15 people, it has a super dark green color and looks super expensive; there is also a massive TV (or rather a home theater), a massive drink cupboard, a coffee table, several shelves full of limited edition hero figurines (the price of these figurines is something you don’t even want to think about right now) and there are several cute Polaroids hung up on a fairy light on one of the walls. You’ll take a closer look when he’s not around, you don’t want to creep him out… yet. The kitchen/dining area has an arched doorway instead of a actual door, making the space feel even bigger than it is; the room is full of handy gadgets and different types of coffee machines, a super expensive looking rice cooker, and in the corner you can see the cat’s feeding bowl, which of course, is fucking automatic. Why is the cat so fat then?!
The oven is super fancy as well and absolutely huge, the dining table is big enough for your whole family tree. Everything is… oversized. Now it makes sense why the greenette said that the flat is way too big for one person. This flat could hold a party with half of the city without it being too crowded. Midoriya mumbles through the whole flat, telling you random stories involving the room then excitedly pulls you through the hallway again to get to the massive door leading to the pool. The outside area is - wow, what a surprise! - massive, the pool is bigger than some of the public pools in your mom’s city, there is a hot tub connected to it on the left side, bubbling vehemently as you walk next to it to get to the garden area, which is the only part of the flat that looks abandoned and uncared for, but you are already planning on planting several fruits and vegetables on one side and super cute flowers on the other, so needless to say, you really don’t mind that he doesn’t care about this area. Hm, you might even get a little cute picnic table so you can appreciate the sunrise with a hot coffee in your hands. You could draw your manga here, in the sunshine! Oh, you are really excited.
“Hey, Y/N, are you with me?” Midoriya waves his hands in front of you; you probably ignored the poor guy’s excited rambling by accident.
“I’m so sorry, Midoriya!” You bow apologetically. “I was just thinking about cleaning up the garden and have some tomatoes and flowers in there? A picnic table? Sorry, I really shouldn’t be reorganizing someone’s garden when I’ve only been here for a few hours…”
Midoriya’s eyes sparkle with excitement, looking as happy as a baby golden retriever.
“You want to take care of the garden too?!” He chippers, but he gets cut off by a really loud ringing noise coming from his bracelet. It flashes in red aggressively until he taps on it twice; suddenly, a holographic Bakugou Katsuki appears on the top of the bracelet, in the size of a hero figurine.
“Code red shit nerd, meet me at the usual corner. Group C made a move, all units are needed.” Dynamight suddenly moves his head to your direction. “Yo, freeloader, nice to meet ya or whatever.” The call cuts off and you just stand there like a dumbfounded idiot; what’s with all the high tech stuff? And what’s up with that nickname?!
“Don’t mind him, he gives everyone a nickname.” The hero smiles, but he’s clearly really antsy to move. He takes out something gold from his pockets and puts the golden thing in your hands without giving it a second thought. “Here’s my bank card, buy whatever you feel like we need in the flat and also feel free to use it for your garden shenanigans! It’s my garden, so I’m paying! Also, let’s do your fingerprint quickly because I really need to go.” The hero gives you a sad smile and it breaks your heart a bit; he clearly wants to stay for longer and chat about your plans, but oh well, this is hero life for ya’.
Midoriya takes your fingerprint at the door in only a few seconds then runs into his room to change; after a minute he comes out the door and heads towards the garden.
“See you soon, Y/N! Sorry I can’t stay and celebrate your new life with you! I’m heading out!“ The hero runs out to the garden before you have time to appreciate him in his hero costume/freak the shit out because fuck, this really is the Number 1 hero Deku you are living with; then jumps off the 43. Floor of the building without hesitation. You are frozen in place in front of the back door as you stare at the hero’s silhouette getting smaller and smaller in the distance, bouncing from one building to another.
You come back to your senses after a few minutes and move towards your room to finish up. Midoriya doesn’t seem to be coming back soon.
The next morning. 🥦
You wake up at 5 am to a really loud splash coming from outside of your window. You look at your limited edition Deku clock and let out a low whine; it’s way too early for this shit.
It takes you a few minutes to move to the window to investigate the weird noise; you are still half asleep and probably not even aware of your new living situation yet. As you stare into the distance with your eyes unfocused, the splash of green and yellow becomes a full picture… and that’s when you realize you are staring at the pro hero’s NAKED ASS moving from the pool to the hot tub to get warm.
It’s not just the bottom you had a glance at; oh no… there was the ding and the dong and everything you kinda never wanted to see; okay, that’s a lie, you are a veteran in the cheeky section of Tumblr, but man, you’ll never be able to write a fanfiction again without feeling like you’re about to expose Deku’s intimate secrets.
If the situations isn’t terrible enough, after Deku is settled he waves at you with a smile on his face, absolutely unaware that you did indeed see his ding and his dong while he crawled into the hot tub, and for some weird reason, he’s absolutely not freaked out by you staring at him at 5AM in the morning while he soaks his sore muscles and enjoys the lovely sunrise.
You: Who the fuck uses the pool naked?!
Jirou: I did not want to know that.
You: Me neither.
Jirou: Stop lying to yourself.
You: …
You’ll never leave your room again.
… Next Part!
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Fun facts:
- The “chubby cat” conversation has actually happened in my real life, it was a legit conversation with my mother-in-law. She’s precious.
- I’m quite sure I accidentally stole the name “All Meowt from someone else’s ficc, so if it’s you, send me a comment or a message and I’ll tag you as the original author or something! Thank you!
- I tried to make a little thingy to show you the layout of Deku’s flat, don’t judge me, please 😂😂😂
(It’s a masterpiece, I know.)
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The secret room will be revealed eventually. (Stop thinking about dirty things, we are talking about Deku.)
Feel free to try and guess what the secret room is, can’t wait to see your answers!
See you in the next part!
Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated 💚🥦
Kit
~•🥦•~
Taglist: @porusuniverse (want to be added? Just ask!)
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