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belphies-cuhm-sluht · 3 years

Note

Hello! I saw your asks open and i wanted to request some angst headcanons with dad!Asmo. I just read Luci's and oh man that sure hurt my heart, you write angst so well!

Unwanted (Dad!Asmo x F!Reader) ANGST

A/N : Mammon plays a really big part in this, just as Beel played a big role in the dad!Lucifer fic. It's never hinted whether they're together or not, it's kind of up to the imagination... but if you'd like, I can write a part two to this??? (I will also, to anyone who might want it, write a part two to the dad!Lucifer fic)

Word Count : 2.3K Warnings : pregnancy ; children ; maternity ; babies ; hinted abortion ; angst ;

He never wanted children, he didn’t want anything that would actually tie him down to anything or anyone. It wasn’t his “thing”, and you both had done everything to prevent it from happening. Up until now, everything had worked, there had never been one mistake, but the both of you got sloppy. There was a party, and… well, you loved him, and he had said that he loved you, and precautions weren’t a “thing” at that moment. One slip up, one mistake, and now everything was falling apart.

“I didn’t want this. I don’t want that.” He spat the words at you, pointing towards your stomach. He had only stopped pacing long enough to say it before starting again, walking the length of his room as he gnawed at his perfectly manicured fingers. You hadn’t expected anything different from him, but it still hurt that he was blaming the whole thing on you, as if it didn’t take 50/50 participation to make something like this happen. “It’ll completely ruin my image. A child with a human! It’ll be all over the tabloids, in every magazine… I can’t have that.” His behavior shouldn’t have been that shocking to you, but to hear just how selfish he really was, to know that he thought so little of you, it hurt way worse than you ever thought it would. One moment he was professing his love to you, and now he’s disgusted with you. It could have been that your emotions were running high from the situation, or maybe the hormones had just taken over completely, but you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, and you wanted to fight him. “Your image?! This thing could kill me and all you care about is your stupid public persona… Screw you! I wish I never fell in love with you.” His eyes went soft, and for a moment you thought that maybe he’d apologize, maybe he was rethinking his own words, his actions, that maybe you’d be able to be a team to work through this mess. You were wrong, you were so wrong. “Wish all you want, we both know you’d have never been able to resist me.” Narcissistic, selfish, he was just awful. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to fight back the tears as you walked past him. He didn’t deserve your last words, he didn’t deserve anything. He didn’t deserve you.

The twelfth week was supposed to be the most exciting. It was when most couples would finally make their announcements, happily tell family and friends that they were expecting. Your twelfth week was a nightmare. You were trapped in the Devildom, human doctors wouldn’t know what the hell was going on if they delivered a child with horns, a child so angelically demonic that they’d probably call the hospital priest to your room as soon as they saw it. The only place where you’d be able to safely deliver a child like this and live through it would be in the Devildom. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to relieve yourself of the problem. You had gone to Lucifer, Satan, Barbatos, even Lord Diavolo, asking them if there was any way that they could just… get rid of it. Sadly, Asmodeus wasn’t just a narcissistic, selfish prick, he was also sadistic. None of them could do anything without Asmodeus’ approval since it was his child too. Every time one of them asked him, he would refuse. He didn’t even give a reason, he just wanted to see you suffer. Strangely, you had found comfort and solace in Mammon. You were pretty sure he was only helping because he still had a crush on you, but he became your emotional, mental, and physical support throughout everything. You had told him many times that he didn’t have to basically “fill in” for Asmo, but he insisted that it was the least he could do considering his little brother was being a dick. He wasn’t just your support at the house, he was… invested in the child that Asmo hadn’t wanted. He took you to doctors appointments, sometimes even getting in the way of the doctor as he pointed to the ultrasound screen. He was so excited that most people just assumed it was his kid, and he never denied it either. It was just easier that way, to go along with whatever the other demons said because he knew that any mention of Asmo would upset you and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Some days the both of you would sit on the couch in the living room, flipping through the pages of maternity books. He’d really try to understand the diagrams on the pages, but you could tell that he was confused and sometimes he’d even look up at you from the pages, and then down at your stomach, and then up at you, before looking back down at the pages. It was cute, and you’d giggle lightly, resting your head on his shoulder as you continued flipping through the pages. He had become the only person in the house that you felt like you could fully trust and rely on. Everyone else wanted to stay out of the drama, nobody wanted to get involved, but Mammon wasn’t there for the drama, he was only there for you, he was there when you needed him.

“Can you believe him? Can you believe both of them? We haven’t even broken up and they’re sleeping together, she’s even wearing his clothes. It’s ridiculous, and Mammon is out there playing dad with my kid.” Asmo sat on the edge of the counter, voicing his complaints to anyone who would listen. Sadly it was Beel’s turn since he was the only one in the kitchen right now. Most of the time the other brothers would just hide themselves away, not wanting to deal with Asmo right now, but Beel had gotten hungry and he really thought he’d be lucky enough to avoid his brother. “I don’t know what the big deal is… You didn’t want the kid anyway.” He wasn’t going to walk on eggshells around Asmo, he wasn’t going to lie to make anyone feel better. In Beel’s eyes, Asmo was completely in the wrong. “If Y/N is finding some sort of happiness in spending time with Mammon, who are you to complain? It stopped being your place when you said you didn’t want it.” He shrugged before grabbing his plate and going straight back to his room. He wasn’t going to continue listening to it, but he hoped that he had left Asmo with something to really think about. He walked up the stairs, going straight to the bedroom door, knocking loudly. He wasn’t going to stop until someone opened the door either. Mammon got up from the bed that you both had been propped up on, rolling his eyes as he walked over to his door, groaning loudly when he saw Asmo standing there. “Whaddaya want? We don’t need ya here… yer just gonna stress ‘er out.” He was trying to talk quietly, not wanting you to hear him or even know who was there. He was so protective of you, he wouldn’t let anyone else serve your food during meals, he’d even stand outside the bathroom door whenever you were in there just to make sure you didn’t fall or hurt yourself. Asmo pushed his way into the room much to Mammon’s annoyance. “I don’t care, Mammon. Y/N isn’t yours, and neither is the child. They’re both mine, and I’d like to have a word with her.” He said snidely, but Mammon wasn’t going to have it. Brother or not, he cared too much about you, he had worked so hard to help you get over what Asmo had done, and he wasn’t going to let him waltz back in and ruin everything. Mammon wasn’t weak, he was way stronger than he looked, and right now he was showing his strength, grabbing Asmo’s arm and practically throwing him out of the room. His teeth were barred and the growl that was coming from him sounded feral, animalistic, it was terrifying. “Neither of them are yers! I’ve been there fer everything, every doctor visit, I even bought a damn room fer the kid and she’s sleepin’ in my room, next ta me, and a next ta Y/N. Ya know why?! ‘Cause ya don’t jus’ get ta come back when ya fine’ly realize that ya fucked up! Now… leave us alone. We don’t need ya here.” He left Asmo out in the hallway, crumpled against the wall as he walked back into the room. “She…” Asmo kept repeating the word as he pushed himself up off the floor. He was having a daughter, and he hadn’t even known about it, he wouldn’t have known about it if Mammon hadn’t screamed at him. It was strange how knowing made things more real, it made him care more, and the worst part was that he knew it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to you. He didn’t know how to fix what he had done, but he knew that he had to try at least. “Lucifer…” “I don’t want things to be like this when she gets here. It’s not going to be long either.” You sighed, finally relaxing once more in the bed once Mammon got in next to you. “Why was he here anyway?” Mammon shrugged, focusing all of his attention on your stomach trying to calm himself. He liked watching it move, he thought it was neat.

The delivery was smoother than you thought it would be, and Mammon only fainted twice during the whole thing, so he did pretty good. Delivering a child in the Devildom had its perks, the main one being that you didn’t have to stay more than one day in the hospital to recover. They did some spell and you were completely fine. It was strange, but you appreciated it greatly. The only issue with the perk was that it meant you were going back home and that meant you’d have to face Asmo. She looked so much like him, and you could tell that Mammon was upset by it. Even though he knew she wasn’t actually his, he wished that she didn’t look so much like her father. Her eyes were his exact color, and it left you speechless when she first opened them, gazing up at you with wonder and curiosity. She was precious, and she was yours. As you walked through the door you were met with balloons and streamers, and Asmo. You heard Mammon growl quietly, and you quickly held your hand out to him, silently begging him to stop. He was holding the carseat and you didn’t need him to lose his temper right now. “I just wanted to welcome her home, welcome you home. I bought some things for her, they’re outside of Mammon’s door.” Asmo said nervously, and for once he was terrified of being rejected. “We don’t need noth-” Mammon had started, but you quickly shook your head, pleading to him with your eyes to just stay calm. He groaned loudly, eyeing Asmo angrily before walking past him to the stairs. “Fine. She’s prob’ly hungry… I’m gonna feed ‘er. Ya comin’ up?” You nodded quickly, making sure he got up the stairs alright before turning back to Asmo. “What are you doing, Asmo?”

He moved into the living room, waiting for you to sit down before he did, and he looked scared, he looked sad. Of course you didn’t like seeing him like this, but it was his fault, he had caused all of this. “I don’t want to be alone. I know that sounds selfish, that I’m making this about myself again, but I’m not trying to. When Mammon told me… he said she… It's a girl?” You nodded slowly and you saw his face light up for only a second before it left once more. “I was scared, I am scared… I didn’t know if I’d be a good… father. I never saw myself as one, but seeing Mammon, and he’s doing so well… I never saw him as a father either… I thought that maybe, since he could… that maybe I could too.” He sighed, bringing his hand back up to his lips to chew at his fingers again, his orange eyes glistening with the tears that hadn’t fallen yet. “I know that what I said was wrong… I was rude. I didn’t think I’d have a problem finding someone to take my mind off of everything, but I was wrong. I love you, and nobody else is going to take your place, nobody else can take your place.” You both sat on the couch in silence, his tears finally falling as he waited for you to say something, and yours building up as you tried to think of something to say. “This isn’t fair… You know this isn’t fair. You can’t… you can’t pick and choose when you want to be a dad. You weren’t there… and you made it very clear that you didn’t want her. I… I can’t do this Asmo… I’m sorry… They’re waiting for me… I-I have to go.” You took a deep breath as you stood from the couch, wiping your tears with the back of your hands as you started walking to the stairs. “Y/N…” He walked up behind you, grabbing your hand to stop you. You didn’t turn around to face him, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, but he didn’t mind. He was actually thankful that you didn’t look at him, because what he was about to say was the hardest thing he’d ever have to say in his life. “I know that I’m unwanted… But… If I may… Can I meet her? Just once? Please?”

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emilia3546 · 3 years

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Shadowsinger - Gwynriel

Spoilers for ACOSF, do not read this unless you have finished ACOSF AND the Azriel pov chapter * * * * * Training without Nesta and Cassian should have been fine, if it weren't for Gwyn, if it weren't for how he could never approach her. Some nights he needs an escape, but never expected her to hear his song in the shadows, for her to sing to the shadows herself.

*****

Nesta and Cassian were still off cauldron-knows where, doing cauldron-knows what, the scent of their fresh mating bond still lingering in the House, so Azriel was left to train the priestesses alone. Not that training them was bad, he was thrilled that they were learning to fight, but at least when Nesta and Cassian were there, he could focus on teasing them, rather than his own growing desire. He stiffened at the sound of Gwyn's voice behind him,

"Azriel?" And spun quickly to face her, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,"

"You didn't, I was just thinking,"

"About?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it. Did you need my help?" He hated the slight dismissiveness of his tone, but he couldn't actually tell her what he had been thinking of, could he? No, he couldn't. She might never want a male like that ever, he couldn't make her think she had to. He wouldn't, she would have to come to him, or he would be grateful for her friendship.

"Yeah, you said we could move on to archery today after warm ups, Cassian hasn't actually started on that at all, we need you to go over everything."

"Oh. Okay, I assumed you'd already been over the basics." She shook her head, and he sighed, gesturing for her to follow, "Is it just you, or are there others?"

"Emerie as well, she's coming." The few moments it took for Emerie to cross the training ring almost left Azriel shuffling on his feet, but when she arrived he was finally able to start the lesson.

Stop being so tense, she thinks something's wrong with you. A shadow whispered in his ear, he wasn't being too tense, was he? Perhaps he was. Cauldron, did she think he didn't like her? Now you're overthinking it. Be normal. He almost snorted, that was easier said than done, but he forced his thoughts away from Gwyn, and towards the bows in front of him.

"The first thing we have to do is to string them, you can't do anything with an unstrung bow, except perhaps hit someone over the head with it, but that's not very effective." Gwyn snickered, and Emerie bit her lip to keep from laughing, "Grab a bow each, not that one, you'll never be able to draw it." He handed Gwyn a smaller bow, the limbs recurved to allow a lighter draw weight, and Emerie grabbed its twin from the rack. "Those have a draw weight of about thirty pounds, but we'll build that up, until you can draw Illyrian war bows."

"What's the draw weight of those?" Gwyn asked, her voice soothing the worry he was still feeling,

"Anything from eighty to one hundred and twenty pounds. Mine is a hundred." Her jaw dropped open,

"You mean, they can be four times as strong as these? These look pretty heavy as they are."

"They will be to start off with, you'll be using a different set of muscles than you're used to, so we'll be able to build it up." He drew their attention to the notches at the ends of the bows' limbs, when the string could sit. "Get one end of the string on the limbs, and set that limb against your ankle, and step through with the other foot." He adjusted their position, grateful that Emerie had figured it out, so that he didn't have to get too close to Gwyn as she corrected herself. "Now, use your foot as leverage to pull the string up to set it in place." He demonstrated with a third bow, smoothly setting the string in place, and both females managed to copy him, grinning when they were each successful.

"I win." Gwyn chuckled, and Emerie narrowed her eyes, managing to string her own bow moments after Gwyn,

"We'll see about that." She retorted, and Azriel smiled, and as they turned back to face him the sun burst into the ring, setting Gwyn's hair burning bright in the morning glow. She was so breathtakingly beautiful that he forgot he was supposed to be teaching. He slowly walked them through each step of shooting, from their stance to the arm guards that they needed to wear to avoid the string slapping against their forearms. Once they had gotten the hang of it, Azriel set them off to practice, keeping an eye on them as he made the rounds to check on the other priestesses.

Once he got back round to them, both females were starting to make progress, although neither had actually hit the target yet. Gwyn barely turned her head, but he knew that she'd noticed him, and took another shot,

"What am I doing wrong?" She asked, still gazing at the arrow embedded in the wall a good three feet from the target.

"You need to use your whole back to draw, not just your arm. Imagine squeezing your shoulderblades together when you draw." She nodded, trying again, and the draw was much smoother, but still the arrow thudded into the wall behind the target, and she turned to him, disappointment shining in her eyes, "Try it again. Make sure you don't release full draw the moment before you let go of the string. Draw, sight and loose all in one movement." She nocked another arrow, taking a deep breath, and he came next to her, "Here," he lifted her elbow slightly, "Now release," she did, and the arrow flew straight and true, just hitting the edge of the target. She turned and grinned at him,

"Show me that again." So he did, no matter how much his blood roared at touching her, he helped her adjust her aim, until the arrow thudded straight into the center of the target. "I did it! Did you see?"

"I saw," he grinned, "Well done, now prove it wasn't a fluke," she flipped him off but returned to the range, and while he was helping Emerie achieve the same result his shadows, his very blood sang at every shout of delight when she hit the target. Emerie was having difficulty adjusting her wings to allow her to reach full draw at all, and he had to ask her to show him exactly how much movement she had.

He frowned as Emerie moved her wings, there was no way she'd be able to get to full draw with her right wing unable to move properly.

"Perhaps we can get a brace made, or if you're comfortable to let Thesan see if he can at least recover a greater range of movement?"

"I don't know, will it hurt?"

"Certainly not initially, but perhaps later on, if you wanted to regain flight, maybe, but regaining a bit more movement should be painless." She hummed,

"I'll think about it,"

"Let one of us know if you want to try, we can always ask Madja to try first, but for now, perhaps we can get a brace made to hold your wings up so that you can shoot properly." Emerie nodded, "And I'll work out some exercises for you to perhaps be able to build up the muscles there to do it yourself, do you mind if I check to see exactly what's damaged?"

"Yeah, that's okay." She still shuddered when he touched the muscles at the base of her wings, finding few of them intact, fewer that were still capable of bearing any sort of load.

"Okay, I can try to work something out for you," Gwyn had managed to unstring her bow by herself, and wrapped an arm around Emerie's waist,

"We'll figure it out," she muttered, "In the meantime you can just kick everybody's ass at close combat." Azriel smiled as the females walked away, laughing softly,

"Make sure you cool down properly," he reminded them softly as he started to tidy up the equipment that they had all used, and his gaze fell on Gwyn, talking softly to Emerie and another female, sweaty and exhausted, but still she practically shined in the early sunlight. When she tipped back her head and laughed, his shadows skittered around him, dancing with that sound as it flowed through the air. They loved her, as they told him repeatedly, annoyingly often, and demanded that he make sure to see her again that day. He told them to mind their own business, but still couldn't tear his eyes away as she waved and headed back to the library,

"See you tomorrow, Az!"

"See you later!" He waved back at her, grinning broadly until wingbeats alerted him to Rhys' arrival to take Emerie home. He quickly shook himself off, and finished tidying up, waving goodbye to the other priestesses as they left.

*****

No one heard as Azriel slipped out of his bedroom window that evening, the cool wind nipping at his skin as he caught an updraft and spiraled up to the roof. He lay back on the roof, watching the stars twinkling above his head, letting the wind ruffle through his hair, and closed his eyes. On nights like this, he sometimes couldn't face being inside, he needed to feel the wind on his face, his wings. He opened his eyes again, his gaze falling on a familiar star, his mother's voice sounding in his ears, almost as if she was there,

Always remember that star, Azriel. Every time you look up at it, so am I, that's our star, forever.

He didn't know what compelled him to do it, but a familiar song burst from him, his mother's song, the only lullaby he had ever been sung, the words falling effortlessly from his lips as he gazed at their star. He hadn't seen her in so long, he hadn't been able to, but he would find time, he would get away from his work soon. He could practically see her sitting beside him, hear her voice in place of his. The wind became her fingers tidying his hair, became her voice singing through the darkness, his shadows on his shoulders became her hands, holding him close, just being there.

*****

Gwyn didn't know what had driven her from her bed, but the moment she stepped outside, the song hit her. She didn't recognize the words, they were in a language she didn't know, but she knew the hurt, the longing in them, in that lullaby. That voice, she could have sworn that she'd heard it before, but she couldn't have, she didn't recognize it, still, the huskiness seemed familiar, the deep tones flowing over and through one another effortlessly. Whoever he was, he had a beautiful voice, and she found herself drawn towards it, her blood singing with him.

Arrorró mi niño

Arrorró mi sol

Duérmase pedazo

De mi corazón

Cierre los ojitos

Ya se va a dormir

Que el pícaro sueño

No quiere venir.

She followed the song all the way to the House of Wind, freezing when she saw the shadowed figure on the roof, head raised to the sky, great, dark wings spread behind him, voice raised in song. He did sing, she was frozen in awe at his voice, at the way it sang to her, but she still felt like she was intruding. Gwyn dared to snatch one final glance at Azriel before she turned to leave, and his head turned, surely he couldn't see her from all the way up there? But something made her stay, made her sit on a nearby bench and listen as he repeated the song again and again, until she knew the lyrics herself. The raw emotion in his voice almost brought her to tears, and she almost turned to leave again, but something made her stop, and sing with him.

*****

His shadows leapt and danced as a second voice sounded through the air, light and feminine, brighter and happier than his, a comfort to the pain of his own song. As Gwyn's voice continued to rise, his shadows left his shoulders to dance around him, she sang to them, for them,

It's her.

She's here.

Go to her.

We love her.

He almost chuckled at the overload of demands, but he sang with her, their voices twining together through the cold night air, the familiar melody giving him the courage to speak to her, to go down there. He practically threw himself off the roof, free-falling before opening his wings and gliding to the ground. When he landed, the street was empty. She hadn't wanted to disturb him. Gwyn wasn't there. Only her lingering scent proved that she had been there at all.

Part 2

#gwynriel #azriel x gwyn #azriel #gwyn #gwyn acosf #gwyneth berdara #angst #fanfic #fanfiction #acosf #acosf spoilers #a court of silver flames #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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Hello! I truly love your writing! Would you consider a continuation of that piece where Jules stays with coops for a week? Or just some snippets of what they get up to?

Here’s part 1, folks! It’s about 3k words and I’m thinking there will be three or four parts total, released over the next couple days. I hope you enjoy it!

Sweater Weather and Jules credit belongs to @lumosinlove!

“Jules.” A series of gentle knocks echoed down the stairs and Sirius smiled into his coffee cup. “Jules, it’s time to wake up.”

Regulus snorted. “Bet you five bucks he has to drag the kid down.”

“Deal.”

“Jules.” Remus knocked again, sounding more exasperated. There was a heavy sigh and the door clicked open; after a moment of quiet, someone yelped. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Go away!” Jules groaned. “An’ give it back!”

“It’s time for breakfast, get a wiggle on. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

“I’m cold.” More rustling noises followed before Jules appeared at the top of the staircase, bundled in Remus’ sweatshirt—which was really Sirius’, but it didn’t matter—and scowling. His bedhead was outstanding.

“Bon matin,” Sirius said with a smile when Jules sat heavily in the chair next to him and put his forehead on his arms. “How’d you sleep?”

“I don’t like your fiancé.”

“Oh?”

“He’s mean.”

Sirius winked at Remus as he rolled his eyes and pulled a cereal box out of the pantry. “What did he do?”

“He stole my blankets with no warning.”

“That is such a lie,” Remus scoffed. “I knocked on your door for five whole minutes before I came in!”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” Sirius said, walking over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Reg owes me five bucks now.”

“Sweet, we can get more Oreos.”

“Oreos aren’t on your diet plan,” Jules sulked as Remus passed him a bowl of cereal and milk.

“How do you know?”

Jules mumbled something and shoved his spoon into his mouth. The night before had been hectic, with Sirius driving the Hope and Lyall to the airport while Remus helped set Jules up for the night. Regulus came back from hanging out with Leo around ten pm; by that time, Jules was still wired for sound at the idea of a week-long sleepover. He finally went to sleep around eleven thirty and Sirius and Remus crash-landed into bed, exhausted.

Practice was going to be hell.

“Why do we have to wake up early, again?” Jules asked around a yawn.

Sirius ruffled his hair as he sat down again. “Practice starts at ten. Eight o’clock is not early at all.”

He squinted at him, confused. “How early do you usually wake up?”

“Seven, seven-thirty.”

Jules shuddered and turned back to his cereal while Remus plonked himself down in Sirius’ lap with a coffee cup, looking moments away from falling asleep again. “Children are exhausting. Why did we get two of them?”

“Hey!” Jules and Regulus said in unison, clearly offended.

“We’ve got terrible judgement,” Sirius laughed.

“Older brothers are the worst, right Jules?”

“Totally. Are you coming to the rink with us?”

Regulus shook his head. “Sorry, buddy, I’ve got college stuff to work on. Want to help me with paperwork?”

Jules made a face. “I’ll pass.”

“We’re leaving in forty minutes, okay?” Remus said, stretching his back as he stood up and left Sirius’ lap cold and empty. “Jules, please take a shower.”

“I smell fine!”

“You didn’t take one yesterday or the day before. Scoot.” Jules rolled his eyes and got up. “Don’t give me that look! And put your bowl in the sink.”

Sirius and Regulus shared a glance as Jules put his stuff away and trooped up the stairs. “Hi, Hope,” Regulus snickered.

Resignation overtook Remus’ face and he sighed. “Fuck. I’m turning into my mother already. Reg, you should take a shower, too.”

“I smell fine!” The withering look from both Sirius and Remus made him raise his hands in surrender and wander off to his bedroom. “I’m nineteen, not nine!”

”And yet we still need to babysit you,” Sirius called back. Finally, they were alone. He hopped up to sit on the counter and grabbed Remus around the waist as he passed by, pulling him back for a hug. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Good morning.” Remus kissed him gently, bracketing his hips with his hands. He looked tired, but happy. “I’m actually pretty excited to have Jules stay with us. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Ne rien. It’s good to have people here.” They kissed for a moment longer, listening to the shower running upstairs and Regulus’ rummaging noises down the hall. “I swear to God, he’s like a raccoon.”

Remus laughed and leaned his forehead on Sirius’ shoulder. “He definitely sounds like one.”

“At least his room’s clean.”

“Cheers to that. He’s heading back tomorrow, right?”

“Mhmm. Dumo’s been bugging me for, like, three days.”

Remus hummed, wrapping his arms around Sirius and snuggling into him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. We’ve only got a little bit of time before Jules is out, so we should get dressed.”

Remus groaned, but released his limpet hold. “That was so close to a perfect sentence.”

Sirius paused just before hopping off the counter and raised his eyebrows. “If we have extra time…”

“Come on, you,” Remus laughed, tugging him off the counter by the hand and hurrying toward the stairs.

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

They arrived at the rink at 10:05, and Sirius began bracing himself for the inevitable chirping as soon as he stepped out of the car. Jules bounced on his toes in excitement as they walked toward the building, laden with their hockey gear and still a bit frazzled from the mad dash out of the house.

“Is this the munchkin?” Moody asked when Remus knocked on the door to the PT office.

“Yep.” Remus looked down at Jules, whose eyes were wide and more than a little nervous as his grip tightened on Remus’ jacket hem.

“Alastor Moody,” he grunted, holding a hand out that Jules tentatively shook.

“Jules.”

“Wanna see how bones work, kid?”

Instantly, his nerves disappeared. “Yeah!”

Moody winked at them as he led Jules toward the joint models on the far wall and Sirius let out a slow breath. “He’ll be fine.”

“God, I hope so. If anyone can drive Moody off the wall, it’ll be my little brother,” Remus murmured as they headed off down the hall.

The yelling started the second Sirius opened the locker room door. “You’re LATE!” James shouted, grinning from ear to ear. “Hand over the badge, Captain.”

“We still have fifty minutes until practice starts, shut your face.” Sirius socked him on the shoulder and set his bag in the stall.

“What, pray tell, was the reason for this tardiness?” James leaned over and batted his eyelashes.

Remus rolled up a towel and smacked him on the ass with it. “My little brother.”

“Jules is here?” Leo perked up on the other side of the room, and Sirius saw several of the guys look over in excitement, as if they were hiding him in one of their bags.

“He’s staying with us for the week since my great-aunt passed away.”

“Shit, Loops, I’m sorry.”

Remus shrugged. “I never met her, but my folks went back for the funeral. Moody said he’d keep an eye on Jules during practice.”

“Lupin, Black, you’re late,” Coach Weasley said from the doorway, giving them a look over his glasses. “Do we need to have a conversation?”

“No, Coach,” Sirius said as he pulled his pads over his chest.

“I hear you’ve commandeered my head PT for the day.”

Remus shook his head. “If Jules starts bugging him—”

“I’m kidding, Loops.” Arthur’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Moody loves kids. This’ll be good for his disposition.”

Finn snorted. “Can’t get any worse.”

“I expect all of you on the ice in twenty. Any stragglers are doing laps outside!” Arthur slapped the edge of the doorway before ducking out into the hall again; his sneakers squeaked on the freshly-washed floor and Sirius stifled a laugh as he finished buckling up.

The five minute delay did not have a terrible impact on his pre-practice rituals, which he took a moment to be grateful for—they had a scrimmage planned, and he didn’t intend to lose. Once warmups were over, they moved into running plays, until finally the whistle blew and Coach called out the teams. Remus ended up on the other side and he slapped Sirius’ ass with his stick as he passed him, grinning over his shoulder before stopping next to Dumo.

Jules and Moody came out to watch a few minutes in; Sirius caught a glimpse of his wide eyes when he saw the speed of the game and smiled to himself. Everyone else seemed to notice the new arrivals as well, because their effort doubled and suddenly the plays were running smoother than ever.

Showing off for a ten-year-old, he thought with a shake of his head. Talk about baby fever.

Remus sped through the defense, weaving back and forth until he was nearly face-to-face with Sirius. His whole face lit up and he braced; when Sirius went to check him, he dipped sideways at the last second and slipped the puck right through his skates, catching it on the other side and zipping toward the goal at top speed. The goal light went off and Talker whooped, checking him in celebration.

“Lupin! Where’s that been all season?” Arthur demanded, though he was laughing. “Christ, guys, thanks for finally waking up!”

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” Sirius asked as they headed back for the face-off.

“You think you’re the only one who skates in the basement?” Remus said with a cheeky grin.

The whole rink buzzed with energy throughout the rest of the scrimmage—once or twice, Sirius realized even he was showing off a little for Jules, who cheered louder than fifteen thousand fans whenever someone scored.

Arthur shook his head when the final whistle went off. “Everyone say ‘thank you’ to Julian.”

“Thank you, Jules,” they chorused. Jules looked like he was about to die of happiness.

“I need to get him in here more often,” Arthur muttered as they headed to the locker room to change into their gym gear. “Let’s get that energy for every practice, okay? Not just the ones with Little Loops.”

“What are you talking about?” Kasey laughed.

Arthur fixed him with a look. “Don’t bullshit me, Winter, all of you were showing off for the kid.”

Remus blushed all the way to his ears, and the rest of them mumbled some half-assed excuses until they were shooed away. “I put the new schedule on the mirror,” Sirius called over the noise. “Try to pay attention to it for once.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Logan reached up and patted him on the shoulder as he passed; Sirius dragged him back into a headlock to ruffle his hair. “Ow, fuck, okay!”

Logan did not, in fact, stick to the schedule. He was far too busy tossing the lightest medicine ball they had with Jules, who staggered slightly whenever he caught it. Both looked absolutely thrilled.

Sirius, on the other hand, was glad for the opportunity to do a fair bit of ogling while he spotted Remus—who stuck to the schedule, Sirius had never loved him more—until he finished his bench-pressing rotation. He was strong before being a player, but now…well, it was safe to say he could sweep Sirius off his feet literally and figuratively.

“Re, Re!” Jules ran over when Remus finally sat up, then paused and made a face. “You’re sweaty.”

Remus pulled him in for a hug, making him shriek and wiggle to get out. “I am, yeah! Isn’t it great? Here, lemme just—”

Jules flailed, but he couldn’t get out of Remus’ hold in time to avoid the head nuzzle that plastered his hair up on one side with sweat as the guys laughed. “Ewww!”

“Did you need something, buddy?” Remus asked at last.

“Well, now I need a shower.” Jules grimaced. “I was going to ask if you guys actually do ice baths.”

“Of course we do!” Kasey cut in before Remus could quickly divert the topic. “And your brother loves them.”

Sirius had to turn around to muffle his laughter as interest lit on Jules’ face. “Really? Can I see?”

Kasey opened the door dramatically. “Right this way, Little Loops.”

Two of the ice baths were full when they arrived and Sirius did not miss the pained look on Remus’ face at the sight, nor did he miss the devious smile on Kasey’s. Jules hurried over to one and looked over the end, practically sticking his whole face in. “Woah.”

“Pretty cool, huh? You want to know what the best part is?”

“What?”

“Oh, Christ,” Remus muttered.

“Loops, will you do the honors and make sure your darling little brother has a good time?” Kasey asked, the picture of innocence. Remus sighed and stood next to the ice bath, silently begging Sirius for help with his eyes as Kasey motioned Jules over. “Alright, so you take one of these, and then you have to be super careful as you aim. Lucky for you, you’re learning from the best.”

Remus winced as the first ice cube smacked him in the side of the head and gritted his teeth as the second went down the neck of his t-shirt. Sirius schooled his expression into the mildest, sweetest smile he could muster. “He’s not doing anything,” Jules whispered. Remus began taking deep breaths.

“He will.”

“Try me, Wint—oh, sh—” Remus muffled a squeak as ice went directly down his spine. “Hoo, boy, that’s cold.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you censor yourself,” Kasey said, amazed. “It’s uncanny.”

“Are you done?”

“I could do this all day, but it’s my turn to make dinner tonight and Nat gets hangry if I’m late. Good game, Little Loops.” Kasey and Jules high-fived and Remus shook his shirt out; no less than four ice cubes clattered to the ground.

“Young man, you are in such big trouble,” Remus growled playfully as he swept Jules over his shoulder and began tickling his knees. Sirius dodged the squirming legs and held the door open for them as they walked back into the hallway. “You’re okay hanging out with Moody while we get our stuff together, right?”

“Yeah! He’s got the coolest knee statues.”

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

Dinner was anything but a quiet affair; all three of them had taken a nap when they got home, then had a dance party in the kitchen while Remus taught Jules how to actually cook chicken so nobody got food poisoning. Sirius was torn between begging them for the details of that particular story and wanting to stay as far away from it as possible.

Regulus and Jules got into a fierce game of footsie under the table that only ended when a small foot—he still didn’t know which one it was—slammed into the base of Sirius’ knee, hard enough that it would certainly leave a bruise. “Ow.”

They both froze, shared a look, then silently went back to eating. “Practice starts at nine tomorrow,” Remus said around a bite of broccoli. “That means wake up time is six thirty, okay? We’ve got a game on Thursday and it’s super important that we’re not late again. Reg, what time are you heading out?”

“I was thinking noon-ish? That way I can get my stuff set up while Dumo’s still at practice. Don’t want to bother him.”

Jules turned to him with the biggest, saddest eyes Sirius had ever seen. “You’re leaving?”

“I live with Dumo, remember?” Regulus hesitated. “I’ll be at the game, though.”

“Can I sit with you?”

“Absolutely.”

That seemed to placate him, and he turned back to his chicken happily. Sirius nudged his brother, giving him a significant look, which was met with an eye roll that couldn’t quite cover the fond flush on his face.

Jules and Regulus took care of the dishes after dinner and Sirius stretched out on the couch to the sounds of the kid’s excited chatter as he recounted the day’s events. Remus flopped down on top of him, settling between his thighs with a contented smile. “Today went well.”

“Yeah, it did.” Sirius began running his fingers through Remus’ soft hair. “I think Moody is about thirty seconds away from adopting him.”

Remus laughed against his chest. “I think so. It’s pretty cool seeing him so excited about PT stuff.”

“It is.” There was a slow sigh and Sirius raised his eyebrows. “What was that about?”

“I just realized that even though Reg is leaving tomorrow, we won’t have the house to ourselves for six more days. It’s been two weeks.”

Sirius closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the armrest. “Fuck. I didn’t even think about that. Think we can dump him on Dumo for a night?”

“We can handle six days, right?”

“Yeah, totally.”

There was a beat of silence. “This is going to be difficult.”

“If we make it to the three-day mark, I say we break open the Oreos as a reward.”

“Sounds good to me—oof.”

They both groaned as an extra hundred pounds of person squished on top of them. “Dishes are done!” Jules chirped.

“Did you wash your hands?” Sirius wheezed, blinking the dark spots out of his vision. Remus’ chin was digging into his upper ribs.

“Yep! Regulus wants to watch a movie. I think we should watch Jurassic Park, but he says it’s terrible—”

“He what?” Remus raised his head slightly and craned his neck to look back at the kitchen. “Regulus!”

“What?”

“You don’t like Jurassic Park? I thought you had taste!” Remus pushed off the couch and Jules wrapped all his limbs around him like an oversized koala. “We’re watching it tonight and you’re going to like it. Come on, baby, we need to make sure your brother has culture.”

Two hours later, as the credits rolled and three people snored gently, Sirius smiled to himself. He could handle a week of this.

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

Text

𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 (𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔×𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟) 𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐾𝑖𝑚 𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔 (𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧)/ 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡

♡♡ 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚, 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑦 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 @seacottons ♡♡

♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡

Hongjoong tapped his pencil on the notepad impatiently, sighing for the 7th time in the minute that passed. He looked at the clock, signaling that it was almost 10:30.

Maybe I shouldn't have asked her to come. It's already late.

He had a tendency to forget that unlike him, most individuals don't like to stay up at odd hours of the night, especially not to work. But he always worked better and got inspired more during the nights. Something about the dark blue sky, crystal glittering stars and even the bustling sounds of the city awakened his senses, enticing him to start writing lyrics down, or play a few melodies on his piano. Of course, sometimes he had the usual composer's block, struggling to come up with the right music or words. Or he ended up feeling lonely and in need of comfort.

That's where Y/N came in. He'd always call her up and asked her if she wouldn't mind keeping him company, a pout always on his lips, almost like a child expecting to be refused. But she'd always be there for him, and he truly appreciated it. And tonight, he was particularly antsy about seeing her. He was getting anxious as more and more time passed and she was nowhere to be seen. Not even a text saying where she was exactly at the moment.

He was about to pick up his phone again to check up on her, when the rattling of the doorknob let him know someone was outside. He had obviously locked the door, never liking to be disturbed by anyone, so he wasn't surprised to hear the person on the other side knock. He got up and opened the door.

"Hi! I'm here!"

A dripping Y/N scurried inside the studio room, getting as close as she could to the heater that was next to the couch. Hongjoong stared in shock as a tiny wet trail was left on the carpet.

"Baby, did you walk here?" He asked, his voice full of concern.

"Well yeah....." She fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater. "I didn't know it was going to rain and the weather didn't seem too cold, but then tiny sprinkles turned to a heavy downpour.....

But I'm here now!" She said that last part more enthusiastically, trying to ease his mind a little.

But now he felt even more bad than before. She could easily have gotten sick and it would have been his fault.

"You could have just taken a cab back home love."

Y/N pouted at him.

"I know...but I wanted to see you."

His heart melted at her words. She said the same words he had been thinking all night long. Taking small steps, he threw his hoodie over his head and held it out to her.

"Here. You'll catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes. Take them off and put this on. I'll go see if I can find some towels somewhere."

Y/N nodded and took it. She began unzipping her sweater as Hongjoong went out the door to check the supply closet at the end of the hallway. By pure luck, there was a wide array of freshly cleaned towels on the top rack. He grabbed 3 and placed them underneath his arm before closing the door and making his way back to the studio room.

"I found some towels for-"

He stopped abruptly when he saw Y/N standing there, completely naked. His eyes trailed down her body, some parts still dewy from the rain.

"What? You said to take my clothes of." She reminded him, snapping him out of his trance.

He cleared his throat.

"Well yeah.... I just assumed you'd keep your underwear on."

Y/N chuckled.

"But then your hoodie would get wet, then what would we do Einstein?"

Hongjoong smiled shyly. "I guess you have a point there."

Y/N was about to take a towel from him, but he pulled his arm away before she could reach for it.

"Allow me love."

He began patting her shoulders with the towel, getting some of the wet drops off them. Then he bunched some of her hair in the towel, squeezing any excess water out.

"Let me know if I accidentally pull too hard."

Y/N knew that wouldn't happen. He was always so careful and gentle when it came to these things. Once he was done with that, he discarded that towel and replaced it with another one.

"Jesus, did you get sucked inside a hurricane?" He teased her.

"You're so mean. I wouldn't even be in this condition if you didn't ask me to come." She retaliated.

"I know. I know love."

His hands began traveling down her torso, rubbing softly at her skin. He kept his gaze away when he swiped the towel across her breasts, making Y/N snort.

"Hongjoong, you've seen me naked at least 7 times. Stop acting so innocent."

He blushed at her words and hesitated to continue his task of drying her.

"Here, let me finish."

She took the towel away from him and finished the task he couldn't. She took the hoodie he had given her and threw it over her head, the length of it barely covering up to her mid-thighs, but it would have to do.

"You can turn around now, you drama queen." She rolled her eyes at his acting.

He turned his head and his heart fluttered as it usually did whenever she'd wear any of his clothing. It was kind of a reminder that she was his and his only, a sort of sense of ownership over her, as outrageous as it sounded. But Hongjoong would be the first to admit that he was indeed possessive over Y/N. She was just so beautiful and precious to him, he couldn't help but think that way at times.

He leaned and just pulled her into an embrace, holding her as if he hadn't seen her in years. Y/N reciprocated the action by wrapping her arms around his waist, getting the hint that he wanted to stay in that position for a while. He began caressing the back of her head, her hair still humid, but he didn't care. His other hand ran up and down her back, occasionally drawing random shapes into it.

Before he knew it, he was placing kisses on the side of her face, eventually kissing her forehead and resting his lips there. Y/N smiled fondly at that. Forehead kisses were Hongjoong's way of telling her he adored and cherished her profusely. He mentioned it to her one day when he had done that more often than any other times. Ever since then, she loved it when he did it, now knowing there was a meaning behind his actions.

Pulling back, he cupped her cheeks and squished them gently. Puckering his lips, he moved her face side to side, cooing softly at her.

"Who could not fall in love with such a cute face like this?"

She cringed at his words, but Hongjoong knew better. She did have a love-hate relationship with him babying her.

"You're such a dork." She let out a tiny yawn after she said those words.

Hongjoong pouted. "Oh love. I'm sorry for making you come out so late."

She shook her head.

"It's fine. Did you want something in particular?"

Hongjoong hummed softly, thinking about it. He wanted to hold her, that was for sure. But he also knew he wanted to try something, if she was up for it. Smirking, he brushed some hair off her face.

"Well.... I still have a few verses left to finish. What do you say if we try a little..... cockwarming?"

Y/N's ears perked up at the idea.

"Cockwarming?"

"Yes think about it love. Me nestled inside you, while you take a nap on my lap until I finish the song?" He looked to her with hopeful eyes.

She eyed him suspiciously.

"And what about when you're done?"

Hongjoong wiggled his eyebrows.

"Well, if you're not too tired, we could try something else."

Y/N giggled.

"Are you sure you'll be able to control yourself?"

Hongjoong smiled before picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Only one way to find out love."

He set her down on his desk and began unzipping his pants. Taking his cock out, he stroked himself a few times before sitting down on his chair. Turning his attention back to Y/N, he pulled her off the desk, placing her on top of his thighs. He licked his fingers before slipping them in between her folds, wanting to make sure she was wet enough so it wouldn't hurt her in any way. He slowly slid them in and out of her, occasionally scissoring them, stretching her out. He glimpsed over at Y/N, who was biting her lip as she tried not to let out any noises.

"You worry about me, but I think it's you who won't be able to resist." He chuckled.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "We'll see."

Satisfied with his job, Hongjoong lifted her up and maintained eye contact as he slowly sank her down onto his length. They both moaned at the warm feeling, it had been so long since they were like this. Y/N let her legs dangle and she rested her face on his shoulder. Hongjoong wrapped his arms around her.

"Take a rest. I'll be done soon enough"

Y/N mumbled something incoherently, already dozing off thanks to Hongjoong's warmth and his scent that she loved inhaling. Muttering a small 'cute', he went back to work.

The words were now flowing even smoother than before. He always did say he worked a lot better if Y/N was around. The others would always think he was just being delusional, but he disagreed. Her presence just makes him more calm, serene and helps him focus. He'd often joke about her being his muse, but even she would often roll her eyes at his statement.

He didn't know how much time had passed, all he could hear was the sound of his pencil scribbling on the paper and Y/N's faint breathing on his neck. Once in a while, he'd give her thigh a gentle squeeze or kiss her arm that was wrapped around his other shoulder, where her head wasn't. He had completely forgotten he was even inside her.

He was only reminded of it when he looked at the time that was marking that it was almost midnight. He debated whether to wake her up and take her home, or rearrange the couch so it could become a bed. Eden was the one who suggested keeping a sofa that could turn into a bed, and even kept a couple pillows and blankets in the studio since Hongjoong practically lived there at times.

But then again, she looked so comfortable and peaceful, and it wouldn't be the first time he slept in the chair. Turning off the light, he began closing his eyes, wanting to drift off to sleep as well.

But then Y/N shifted in her sleep, causing Hongjoong to jolt up and hold her hips, thinking she was going to fall. She groaned softly and shifted even more, causing his cock to twitch.

Oh my God.

He thought he was doing so well, and he could cool himself down, but the feeling was too good. Without thinking about it, he began to gently roll his hips up against hers, ever so slightly so as to not wake her up. At least that was the plan.

He smiled mischievously though when he heard her moan against his ear. He could feel her growing wetter, making it easier for him to slip in and out of her.

"Fuck." He whispered to himself.

He was getting even more turned on by the fact he was practically fucking his girlfriend while she was asleep. He shouldn't get aroused by that fact, but he was. And to know that even in her sleep she was moaning boosted his ego.

Y/N fluttered her eyes open, whimpering slightly at being woken up with an intense need. She lifted her face and was met with Hongjoong's face, his eyes full of lust and desire as he continued rolling his hips against hers.

"I'm sorry baby. It was just too tempting."

He apologized, but she knew he wasn't the least bit sorry. And she wasn't mad either way. It was definitely one of the best ways to wake up. She placed her hands on his shoulders, to steady herself as she began grinding down on him, not wanting him to have his fun only. Hongjoong hissed at the change of pace, loving the way she looked: in his hoodie, on top of him and desperate to get some release.

Hongjoong's hands went to her waist, pressing her closer to him as he kissed her passionately, his tongue slipping inside hers. His hands wandered inside the hoodie, cupping her breasts and playing with her nipples, causing her to shudder and tighten around his cock.

Hongjoong pulled back, gasping for air.

"Fuck baby. If- if you keep doing that, I w-won't be able to last much longer." He told her, trying to hold back as much as he could.

Y/N chuckled and challenged him.

"Then make me cum."

Oh. Those 4 words always set Hongjoong off. One of his hands went down between her legs, his thumb playing around with her clit. His lips attached themselves to her neck as he sucked and nibbled on all her sensitive places, having memorized all of them. All of that, plus the way his strokes got even deeper and faster had Y/N whimpering and panting above him. Hongjoong pulled back only to tease her:

"What? You asked me to make you cum and that's what you're going to get love."

His free hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing it enough to make her dizzy, but not harshly. He growled in her ear:

"Now do it baby. Cum all over my cock. I want to feel you come undone before I fill up your pretty little pussy with my cum."

She threw her head back as she clenched around him, his words being the final straw for her to break and release all over him with a soft cry of his name. She hid her face on his neck, gripping him tightly as he helped her ride out her orgasm. Her walls clenching and squeezing him tightly had him coming undone seconds after her. She felt his hot cum coat her walls, his voice muttering curses as his movements stilled, trying to catch his breath.

After a minute, Hongjoong looked back at her.

"Baby? You good?"

She nodded. "Tired."

"I know love. Hold on."

Getting up, still inside her, he walked over to the couch and set her down. He began to miss her warmth as soon as he pulled out of her. Grabbing one of the previously acquired towels, he wiped her inner thighs where some of his cum had dripped out.

Y/N was pretty much half asleep by now. So Hongjoong tried to move her as little as possible as he adjusted the couch to turn it into a bed. Grabbing one of the blankets from under his desk, he covered Y/N with it and layed down next to her, pulling her against his chest.

He stared at her sleeping figure for a while, admiring her features and smiling to himself. His finger traced her lips slowly before he pecked them with tenderness.

"I love you Y/N."

He wasn't expecting her to answer, but she surprised him when she unconsciously nestled herself closer to him and mumbled 'I love you' back to him, causing him to giggle at her cuteness.

She truly was such a precious being.

♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong smut #ateez hongjoong scenarios #ateez hongjoong fluff #ateez hongjoong fanfic

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unstoppableforcce · 4 years

Text

trivia night

pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x reader

masterlist | next part

a/n: oh so very smutty so [18+] y’all. thank you to everyone who inspired and encouraged me to enter the triple frontier fic world, if y’all like this one be sure to let me know so I can keep more coming !! ( and a special thank you to @mandoplease for publishing such incredible work that I had to join the Santi fic world !! )

“No, Jango Fett is from the prequels--”

“Boba Fett is also in the prequels--”

“And the originals--”

The whisper fight was not unusual for a Thursday night trivia night with the boys around the table at the brewery but it was unusual for Frankie, Benny, and Will to get away with the discussion for so long.

Santi was almost always the first to jump in and set the record straight, no matter the topic of the question asked by the bald and Irish host up by the bar, but not this Thursday. His stare passed over the few tables packed with housewives eying up Benny and ignoring their husbands, and over the twenty-somethings with purple and pink hair holding similar arguments. It was directed straight to the bar across the concrete floor and no where else.

Because it wasn’t tall and lanky Bram the bartender behind the counter like it had been every Thursday night for the past six months since Frankie moved two blocks away from the brewery. It was you.

And he couldn’t pull his attention from you, not even to correct the absurd whisper fight happening at the table around him that had spiraled into an even stupider battle between the brothers for the pen to scribble down the answer.

You were too distracting.

“Pope— Pope— give me the goddamn pen, Benny— Pope, come on is it Boba or Jango?” Will fought, nudging him enough to snap him from his thoughts but also nudging him just enough to send the beer in his hand clattering to the side, spilling out all over the table.

Frankie and Will were quick to grab their phones off the table, Benny scrambling exclusively for the tiny slips of paper for the trivia game, but Santi had no choice but to slide his chair back to try and avoid making a mess of his pants. Except it made a screaming noise that echoed around the large brewery warehouse, the metal chair against the concrete making people throw their hands to their ears and groan instead of focusing on the question at hand.

“Dammit,” he cursed out, reaching for a handful of napkins as his jeans got wet but as he began dabbing, he glanced around and realized the whole brewery shifted their attention to their table, “sorry, we’re all good.”

“Convincing,” Frankie chided and Santi quickly hit his hat off his head, earning a chorus of laughter from the table, but doing little to hide the blush on either of their faces.

“It had to be my beer?” Santi scoffed, grabbing another handful of napkins to begin wiping at his chair and the table.

“You weren’t helping with the question—”

“You two would have figured it out—“

“I told you it was Boba—”

“Turn in your answers to the front so we can move on to the next question!” The host called from the bar and Benny quickly stood with his answer on the slip of paper, taking it up to the front as everyone’s tables did the same.

But as Pope tried to keep cleaning with his futile napkin pile, a dry towel appeared on the table next to him, between him and Frankie.

“Here, let me...”

It was you, not Bram the bartender, pushing the dry towel into the spilled beer on the table, and he froze.

If he thought you were distracting from afar, it was worse up close.

Frankie didn’t freeze though, he quickly scooted out of the way, careful to lift his chair so it wouldn’t screech the way Pope’s did, but Pope still stood just a foot behind you, frozen in place.

The hustle and bustle of the trivia night continued on around them and you worked quickly, drying off the table and wiping down the floor where most of it ended up, but he didn’t snap out of it until you bent down in front of him and he realized he was just staring.

“Sorry, it was an accident...” He sighed, trying to get back to himself by bending down next to you, trying to help with his sloppy pile of napkins even as you waved him off.

“It’s okay, trivia can get pretty intense.” You chuckled, using your towel to collect the mess of napkins he had in his hands. “I’ll take that.”

“Oh um, thank you.”

“No problem--”

“I don’t know any of the Spice Girls!” Benny whisper shouted from across the table, interrupting the two of you as both of you slowly stood back up.

Santi took a glance around, realizing the trivia night had continued on around the two of you and that was what Benny was talking about, not any other random reason.

But he could still care less, focused more on you as he dragged his seat back to the table. Except you didn’t flee the table immediately and retreat back to the bar like he expected, you hung around, leaning into the table.

“What’s the question?” You hummed, quickly earning all of the attention of boys around the table.

“Umm who was the only Spice Girl not to sing a line during Wannabe...?” Frankie meekly offered from beside you.

“Posh.” You whispered before pulling back, flashing Santi a smirk and finally retreating to the bar while Benny scribbled the answer down quickly.

��Thanks—” “Thank you—” they all cheered behind you and you offered the same smirk you gave to Santi to the rest of them.

“That’s not Bram...” Will laughed out, sipping at his beer.

“No, definitely not.” Frankie continued to muse, nudging Pope again and almost making him drop the pitcher in hand as he moved to pour himself a new drink. “Was that what was distracting you--”

With his glass only halfway filled, he brought it to his lips to give himself an escape while the boys began to laugh around him.

“Yeah, definitely not Bram...” He joined them with a laugh but the next question came on quickly and they all moved on.

Except for Santi. He didn’t. He couldn’t, not that quickly.

He glanced back to the bar, looking past the bald man leading the questions to you at the bar. Though the second you felt his stare, you looked up from the counter and briefly caught it. But he only sent it back to the guys around him, missing the smirk that stayed on your lips as you stared.

As halftime from the trivia game sounded off, most of the crowd escaped out to the food truck in the back alley, including Will who refused to take orders for the others.

“If you want a taco, go out and get your own taco.” Will scoffed out, earning a round of groans in response.

But as Benny got up with his glass of beer to intercept the stares he had been getting from the table on the other side of him and Frankie excused himself for the bathroom, Santi really had no choice but to get up himself. And if he was getting up, he was going to talk to you.

At least, that was if he could catch your attention out of the crowd of men waiting for refills.

Nabbing a small section of counter top next to Bill, the older office worker who came to play alone nearly every week and oggle the owner, Santi patiently waited as you passed pitchers and glasses across the counter to the hoard of waiting men. He contemplated heading back to the table, not wanting to make things more difficult for you, but as he caught your stare again while you worked, he figured you might prefer for him to tough it out.

So he waited, and waited, past the ten minute warning from the bald host, then past the five minute warning, but eventually you cleared out the crowd and made your way over to him.

“Pitcher of the Amber or...?” You prompted, wiping some of the spillage from the last pitcher you past over the counter away as you maneuvered yourself across the counter from him.

“Yeah, please...” he sighed out, clenching his eyes shut as you turned your back to him.

No. No, was what he should have said, they still had almost half a pitcher left on the table but It came out before he could help himself.

What was wrong with him? He never had any problem asking for a name, or a date, or a phone number, especially when you set him up so well.

Hopefully the tacos made the boys thirsty because you quickly turned around with a full pitcher and he had to fish his wallet from his pocket, tossing a few bills out between the two of you. Enough to cover the pitcher and a healthy tip.

But nothing to wow you. He had no charm, no confidence. What was wrong with him—

“Need me to carry it back to your table or you think you can handle it without spilling?” You mocked easily, the smirk building on your lips again and practically drawing him further into the counter.

You had your own gravity to you, it was simple, effortless, unlike anything he had felt in a while. He leaned his elbows forward onto the counter next to the pitcher and you leaned closer just the same almost on instinct.

“I think I can manage that myself... thank you though...”

That wasn’t smooth, that could’ve been so much smoother, what the hell was wrong with him—

“Need anything else?”

“Your name?” There was his recovery, better late than never. He quirked his head and slyly dropped his stare to the counter with a chuckle before dragging it slowly back up to your eyes. “Maybe a phone number?”

The smirk didn’t even drop when you laughed at him, amused by the display.

“I don’t even have your name,” you mused, letting out a wistful sigh, reaching for your towel to wipe at the counter again.

“Santiago.” He extended his hand over the counter and you took it easily, offering your name back as you did.

“Maybe if y’all win trivia I can see myself offering up a phone number.” You shrugged, pursing your lips out slightly.

He didn’t let any blush rise to his face, just a hum of his own amusement. The blush for the whole room was worn by Bill just one seat over, trying desperately to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping though both of you could clearly tell he was.

“Maybe?”

You shook your head but the smirk on his lips only grew on his face, “Maybe,” you repeated.

“I think I can work with maybe.” He liked this banter, and he more than liked the smile you sent it his way with.

“Yeah? Then you better up your Spice Girl’s knowledge.”

“I know my Spice Girls—”

“Good for you man.” Frankie joked, having overheard just his line as he approached the counter behind Santi. “I thought I had the next round?”

Santi stuttered a bit at that, back off his game, searching for the words he needed but you had already chuckled out and shifted your attention away, grabbing the money and turning to the next customer.

“Oh, did I interrupt—”

“No, why would you think that?” Santi kept his voice down but let the sarcasm flow freely, throwing his hands up in some minor annoyance and Frankie hid his laughter and the heat of his cheeks behind the brim of his hat. “Just take the pitcher, will you—”

He looked back to the counter to push the pitcher his way and you were back, holding a handful of napkins out to him, “just in case.”

“Thank you.” He said again, taking them from your hand as you just shook, turning your back to him as he walked away with Frankie, the host calling for the start of the final few rounds.

He was no longer useless to the team. He magically shifted into the leader he normally was when they came out for Trivia night, answering questions before some of the guys could even process them, scribbling out faster than even Benny could manage. But in the end, it wasn’t enough.

Team ‘the boys’ worked their way into second place just behind the two assholes at the bar, clearly having just gotten off work with their loosened ties and rolled up sleeves. Team ‘rich and delicious’. That meant they got the applause and they got the free beer growlers.

It also meant Santi got nothing.

Or at least, he assumed that was the case, letting his stare fall to the guys around him as they cheered for their first second place victory since they started coming.

“Nice work man,” Frankie touted, patting him on the back as Will freshened up each of their glasses with more beer.

It was a fun night and it felt good to do better than ever before, but he was competitive to say the least. He wanted to win. Not just for the principle of winning, though it would have certainly been reward enough to beat the two dicks at the bar. But more so for you.

Though as he caught your stare across the brewery again, your smirk told him it wasn’t over yet.

After about another hour of drinking, you shouted out “last call,” and by then, most of the brewery had began to pack up and head home anyways.

Will had planned to drive Benny home, Frankie had planned to walk from the beginning but Pope steadfastly remained confident in his sobriety. Dolling out a few hugs or handshakes to say goodbye, he excused himself to the restroom and when he came out, his team was gone.

Making his way to the bar, now one of the few remaining patrons, he caught your stare and attention much quicker than he had before.

“No win for you tonight...” you joked and he rolled his eyes, taking claim of the seat across from you.

“Second is better than we’ve ever done so I still have that to be proud of.” He fought back, watching you wave to the last group of people as they left, kind enough to bring their glasses back up to the counter for you.

“Really?” You quirked your head over your shoulder as you continued to clean.

He quirked his head right back, amused to say the least, “Yeah, we aren’t the smartest band of guys—”

“No, I mean, you’re proud of second?”

He laughed out at that, meeting laughter from you as well and smiling, “is second not something you reward? First only?”

“I may have a prize for second...” You laughed, “but you don’t really strike me as a guy satisfied with second.”

“Satisfied?”

“Satiated, content, accepting of—”

He shook his head, another spell of laughter falling from his lips, “No, you’re right, I’m a competitive guy.”

Grabbing a tub out from under the bar, you settled it on your hip and maneuvered out of the bar, going table by table and grabbing the rest of the glasses laying around. “I know, you put up quite the fight for second, the ‘nearly grandma’s’ team was only two points behind.”

“I guess Posh Spice really helped us.” He laughed.

You settled the tub back out on the counter and reached over for a wet rag to begin wiping down each of the tables. “So what do you think you should get for second place? Especially if I’m the one who boosted you to second...”

“What should I get?” He couldn’t remember the last time he was around someone and kept his smirk up for this long, he’s never been so amused by someone, so playful with someone...

He felt light. Honestly, light. When was the last time he could say that?

“Well the phone number was for first, what’s for second?” You tempt your smirk back his way as you bend over the first table, wiping it down.

“I mean, a first date, a first kiss, I’m very interested in everything... what are my options here?”

“I’m starting to think maybe I should have reworked my tiering here, you know, put phone number on the bottom, third place or something.” You mused, moving to the next table as he turned on his seat at the bar to follow you with his stare.

“So I’ve already won the phone number?”

“Insatiable...” You mocked, finishing up with the last few tables and pushing the chairs in. Pulling your phone from your pocket, you quickly unlocked it, passing it his way, “How about you give me yours?”

“And then?”

“Well,” you spun around some as he began typing, looking up at you between his name and number, “it’s nearly midnight and I’m not off work yet, and I normally work everyday but Thursdays and Sundays so, I’m not much for dinner dates but I’m a big fan of breakfast.”

“That’s convenient, I make a mean breakfast.” He smiled, quirking his chin up as he handed your phone back to you. “How about tomorrow?”

“Now we might be a little ahead of ourselves, I just got your phone number.”

“I haven’t gotten anything.” He shook his head with another laugh.

He liked laughing this much. Sure, he laughed with the guys but he didn’t have plans to sleep with any of them. And the people he did sleep with weren’t like you. Maybe that’s what he’s been doing wrong recently.

“Second place...” you mutter, shaking your head as you take a few steps closer, effectively eliminating any space between the two of you, no bar to lean over, no nothing. “Second place would really be lowering my standards you know...”

“Should have told the ‘rich and delicious’ team to stick around.” He mocked as you leaned closer, his voice getting quieter and quieter as you did.

“Nah, second isn’t too bad when it looks like you.”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

In all honesty, he’d been staring at your lips since the two of you ended up alone at the bar and watching you bend over to clean... he had shown incredible restraint so far.

And judging by the way your stare fell to his lips, he wasn’t the only one. He felt more confident than he had felt all night.

More confident than he had felt in a while, if he was being completely honest.

He surged forward off the bar stool and grabbed your face with both hands, dragging your lips to his. The kiss was heated and full of fire, but far too short. He couldn’t let it linger for too long, almost all of his confidence coming out in the single surge. But as he pulled his lips back from yours, keeping his nose up against yours, he felt a spark of electricity flow through him from head to toe.

The way his lips hovered over yours, dancing against yours ever so slightly as he tried to catch his breath, it was like two live wires sparking against each other.

Electrifying.

Clearly you felt it too, because he couldn’t even catch his breath much less get out a word or two before your lips were back on his and your hands were gripping tight to his chest.

Stepping you back, his hands fell to your hips, guiding you onto the next bar stool so he had a better angle, his hips in line with yours in between your legs, his lips moving to attack your neck.

“Santiago...” you moaned out, his name floating through the stale air of the brewery like the sweet honey the amber ale tasted like and he swore he could taste it on his lips as he licked down to your shoulders.

“Let me take you home...” he rolled his hips up into yours and the breath that escaped you was even more rugged than the last.

“Oh well, first place...” you threw your head back, “first place would get to take me home.”

“What does second place get?” His kisses trailed along the gold necklace that hung around your neck, dipping lower into the cleavage of your black top.

“Well, we have the place to ourselves, might as well make ourselves comfortable.”

He laughed at that, pulling his lips off of you and glancing around the empty warehouse bar. “Yeah?”

“Could’ve come in first.”

“Oh honey, I’ve got no problem taking you on the table...” he smirked, dragging you off the stool and bringing your face back to his for a chaste kiss. “And I never come first.”

“Oh I set you up for that one...”

“Damn straight sweetheart.”

Grabbing your hips as you slung your arms around his neck, he moved you back to the nearest table and sat you back on it. And while you pulled at his short curls, deepening the kiss, he found the bottoms hem of your shirt and began dragging it tantalizingly slow up your chest.

Seems you were the one showing little restraint now, meeting his hands and rapidly lifting it the rest of the way off and tossing it aside easily.

“You’re good at that.” He mused, reaching for the bottom hem of his own shirt to do the same

“Yeah, I take it off at least once a day you know...”

“Smart ass.”

He grabbed for your hips again but instead of drawing you closer, he flipped you around, pressing the front of your hips into the table and pushing hims elf firmly against your ass. With one strong forearm taut around your torso, he kept your back against his bare chest, dragging you as close as possible until your breaths aligned with his and his lips could move to your ear.

“Is this okay?” He huffed, still trying to catch his breath and staggering even more so as one of your hands reached up to intertwine your fingers with his holding against your chest.

With a roll of your hips back into his, eliciting another groan from his lips, you responded with a throaty, “Yes...”

Your head fell back onto his shoulder as his restrained and hardened length continued to grind into your ass, the fingers of his hand not holding you upright dipping to the button of your jeans and undoing it quickly. The hot breath panting out of your chest held in your throat as his hand dipped even lower, dragging taunting lines along your soaked underwear.

His hips rocked in a deft rut against you still but now rocking your tight bundle of nerves into the palm of his hands, prying a restrained whimper from your lips.

“Baby, I want to hear you.” He cooed into your ear, his mind desperate for the honey of your voice and the way his mind seemed to drown in it. The hot pleasure of each movement bubbling in his stomach, he was hardening against your ass, you were soaking over his fingers...

“Santiago...”

A growl released from his lips, as his hips stuttered against yours. He wanted more of you, more of your delicious voice whining out into the echoing warehouse, more of the decadent juices dampening his fingers as he pushed aside your underwear and dipped into you one finger at a time, more of the hot taste of your skin as he sucked onto the bend of your neck to your shoulders, more of you... so much more of you.

Bending you over the table, your hands splayed out over the freshly cleaned surface, trying to keep yourself upright with nearly quivering arms. His pants hit the floor, belt buckle clattering to the concrete, and yours quickly followed suit, worked down your legs to bunch up around your boots and ankles. But keeping yourself partially upright was futile, turning your head over your shoulder you caught sight of him stroking over his fully hardened and lengthy girth and all but resigned yourself to your impending fate, laying down the rest of the way with another moan released your lips.

The sight of him alone had you clenching around the stale air of the warehouse and nothing else, desperate for more of him.

“You want this?” He played, drawing a languid stroke over himself as he brought his tip to play against your exposed and aching cunt. “Tell me you want me, baby.”

“I want you...”

“Yeah?” He pressed in gently, toying with you as your grip around the table tightened. “Tell me baby.”

“Smart ass,” you groaned, earning a gentle yet playful smack on your ass that you relished in, trying to back into him for relief. Finally, the taunting tease was too much and you pleaded for him with your dripping honey tone, “I want you, I want you, please.”

Pushing the rest of the way in, all of your noises held tight in your throat while he kept still within you, relishing in the feel of you stretching around him as your hands clenched tight around the table. One of his hands worked up your back, unclasping your bra with a practiced move and continuing up to the back of your neck, pushing your face into the cool table top before he began to work in and out of you.

His other hand held at the dip of your lower back, holding you in place as his thrusts accelerated in pace. The holding grip felt like a crushing weight but nothing like the force of his pounding hips as he nailed you deeper and deeper into the table. The repeated hits of your hips against the table threatened to leave bruises but you could care less, the pain was pulling an addicting sense of euphoria from your core and you’d cover your body in a thousand bruises if it meant you’d feel this good.

Weaving his hand from the back of your neck into your hair, he lifted your face up just enough to meet his lips as he bent over you, finding a newer, deeper angle with his lips ghosting over yours.

“How does it feel, baby...” he taunted as you tried to bring your lips to his but he held you just far enough back to feel his breath but not his lips.

Close, tauntingly close, but not enough.

“Kiss me, Santi...”

“How does it feel?”

Sending a particularly pounding thrust into you, your head fell back against his shoulder, your moan descending into a sob as his lips met your neck for a lengthy lick and bite.

God, you didn’t just feel good, you felt right. You felt right like nothing had before, not since he and the guys got back from South America.

He bought the house because it felt like the right thing to do, he stopped doing work that would hurt himself because it felt like the right thing to do... but this was the only thing that felt right. He had been looking for something like this for longer than he could even remember and he wanted more.

“Santi—”

He cut you off with his lips on yours, contorting at a weird angle but giving him new access to your still half clothes chest. He wanted your bra off, he wanted to feel every inch of you, every single goddamn inch of you.

Every sound you made, no matter how faint, echoed in the big room now, even in competition with the obscene sound of his hips smacking into yours. You could hear each grunt and breath that fell from his lips and he could hear the same from you, every whine and moan, every whimper and—

“Please...”

Your words vibrated against his lips and released a new level of desperate need from within him.

The hand he had fighting with the fabric of your bra relinquished the fight to get it off, moving underneath to take hold of your breast, his other hand reaching back around your torso to hoist you back up into his chest. His teeth gritted together as he found a whole new rhythm, faster, faster, faster...

“Oh my g—”

“Oh fuck honey.” Everything was getting tighter, the tense coil in your stomach, his grip around your chest, every muscle in his legs and abdomen, the pull of you against him... you were clenching tighter and tighter around him, tighter and tighter.

His hips snapped even harder into you as his rhythm began to falter but his hand reached down from your stomach with a purpose. His hand was back on your pulsing bundle of nerves, but not his palm, two fingers, rubbing meticulously at first but quickly loosing all sense of control as you began to shake against him.

Biting down on your shoulder, he moved to a pace he couldn’t hope to maintain, trying to push you over the edge with his fingers, rubbing faster and faster and faster and—

“Fuck, Santi— fuck.” you shook, coming apart around him as your scream of his name cursed out into an echo, bouncing around the warehouse walls and playing into his ears on each bounce. Then your breathless whisper released just loud enough for him to hear in your smoothest voice, drenched in honey, drowning his ears in it, “Santiago...”

And that was all it took.

He was falling apart, barely managing the control to ask “can I— fuck, can I— inside?” and get an exhausted nod from you before he came apart.

His hips stuttered, knocking you into the table once, then twice in quick succession, all accompanied by whines of his own falling from his lips against the skin of your neck.

“Not bad for second place...” you mocked, still out of breath as he kept you held up against his chest.

And his laughter shook the both of you, his forehead, now damp with sweat, pressed into the side of your face. As he slipped out of you, sending you both whimpering out from the loss of contact, he kissed down your spine until he picked his own pants up.

“Let me take you home,” he kissed back up your spine until you turned around and met his lips with yours. “I promised breakfast...”

“I like breakfast.” You hummed, holding him close by his curls, forehead holding against yours.

“I like you.”

To think, you had the audacity to be mad when Bram the bartender asked you to pick up his Thursday shift.

—

tags: @mandoplease @spider-starry @pizzahutmonkeybutt @mouse230 @kindablackenedsuperhero @shakespeareanwannabe @mylifeliterally @this-cat-is-dea @woakiees

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago ‘pope’ garcia x reader #oscar isaac #triple frontier #smut #oh my god i can believe i did it #i hope yall enjoy

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officerjennie · 3 years

Text

A spiteful continuation of my last Geskel piece (which will be linked in the comments), with Ace!Eskel (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

CW: Smut with feelings (lots of feelings). Bottom Geralt Rights. Intercourse. Teasing that’s (mostly) not meant to be teasing. Eskel getting a little overwhelmed with feelings. WC 5k+

Ever since Geralt had opened up to him, their time together had shifted. Change was something that always came a big more difficult the older one got but Eskel rather liked this change, liked that Geralt relaxed down onto the bed for him, let Eskel’s hands run over his still clothed body and slowly peel the layers off of him.

In all honesty, Geralt had more practice in all of this than he did, and it wasn’t entirely due to his scars. Oh, Eskel was not naïve, he knew the way most humans looked at him. It’s exactly the reason he avoided so many of them - and he’d never fancied himself a hero anyway, simply there to do the dirty work and clean up the messes the world created, dealing with curses and monsters and the like. But he knew he wasn’t a pretty sight to many, his scars playing into their fears, reminding them of what was out there that could hurt them.

And reminding them that he could survive it and far, far worse.

He wondered, sometimes, whether they were more afraid of him for surviving it, or afraid of whatever had attacked him. Not that it really mattered, but it was a thought that drifted in and out of his head throughout the years as he traveled his own path, sticking mostly to the shadows and remaining an anonymous figure for the most part, never creating or wanting to create a name for himself.

“Eskel.”

But Geralt might change his mind about names. Eskel sat straddled in his lap, tilting his head as he watching how the morning light lit up the fan of Geralt’s hair on the pillows. His chest was bare and his abdomen warm beneath one of Eskel’s palms, the muscles subtly clenching in a way meant to entice him to touch more, stomach expanding and collapsing as Eskel simply felt him breathe.

The bulge in Geralt’s pants told him quite clearly the other man was interested in much more than breathing. Eskel’s mouth quirked upward, the scar stretching tight as it did. “Did you want something?”

“Want you to get on with it,” Geralt growled at him, no real heat to his glare.

Humming, Eskel ran his hand flat over Geralt’s stomach, admiring the strength there, stopping to trace a scar along the right side. “Not in a rush, are we?” He’d never cared for rushing. Sex in a hurry held no appeal to him, getting off really not being the purpose. What did it matter if he came if it didn’t mean something between them? If he didn’t have time to show the man beneath him how loved he was?

Geralt never really minded them rushing. Most times he was rather impatient if Eskel was being honest. But now that Geralt had handed him the reigns, it wasn’t up to him to decide how quickly they got to it.

Eskel planned to take his time with it.

At least he was kind enough to divest him of the rest of his clothes. Geralt helpfully hitched up his hips when needed, propping his head up proper to get a better view when Eskel settled down between his spread thighs. Eskel’s fingers got distracted once again by the expanse of skin underneath them, tracing scar after scar, knowing the stories of many and tilting his head curiously at the few others. One was even new, a crescent shaped one just at his hip, with indents in it that Eskel knew had to have hurt more than the smoother ones - knew from experience what missing parts of himself felt like. To soothe the old wound he bend down low to brush his lips against it, closing his eyes, chapped lips hardly able to feel the difference between the scarred flesh and the rest of him.

The feel of a warm, broad hand at the back of his head made Eskel’s eyes flutter back open. He stared up the expanse of his lover, up the pale skin and rather large pectorals that were covered with curls, all the way up to the heated pools of gold that stared at him as if Geralt wanted to devour him whole. It made him smile, a hint of a smirk in it, as he rubbed his nose gently at his hip.

A growl made him laugh, which just earned his hair a bit of a tug - nothing rough, Geralt knew he wasn’t a fan of rough between them, just a gentle reminder that Geralt’s wants were still left resting heavy and full against his thigh.

“‘Patience, little wolf’,” Eskel teased, his eyes glittering with humor at the expression that caused. Geralt groaned and dropped his head back, grouching about not quoting their teacher while they were like this, and Eskel took his chance to run his lips all over the skin he so dearly wanted to spoil and adore.

The thighs were next. He squeezed them and memorized the scars all over, his cheek dangerously close to Geralt’s now leaking cock but he still paid it no mind, far more invested in kissing each and every mark he found on his body. There were no new scars down here but he knew there was a single beauty mark right where his left arse cheek met his thigh and he found it with ease, eyes closed yet again as he pressed a gentle kiss right overtop of it before flicking his tongue out to taste the sweat on his skin. Geralt groaned again but it sounded nothing like the last one, the scent of arousal thick in the air around them, his pre’s scent sharp and cutting through it when Eskel inhaled.

“Fucking tease.”

Eskel didn’t even look up this time, humming as he kissed up Geralt’s thigh, adoring him. Just to make sure they both got an equal amount of love he switched to the other, smattering it with kisses, his heart fluttering in his chest as he did.

There was no doubt in his mind that there had been many hands and lips on this same skin. Nights and days alike where many had roamed Geralt’s body, seeking out his pleasure and their own, men and women and others riding his thighs or cock. Sex workers and those just looking for a thrill, those who had seen the beauty inside of him or had simply wanted a go. They were both no longer young pups and had traveled the world, experiencing much of it, and Geralt had never been shy over seeking out adult pleasures.

His were not the first hands to run over his thighs and marvel at them. His were not the first fingers that squeezed and dug into the muscle there, or to skim oh so close to where he wished they would be wrapped around him. Many eyes had drank him in hungrily before, many lips had found their path just next to his sack - but how many, he wondered, held the trust that Geralt had in him?

Perhaps it was wistful thinking, but he doubted any of them at all. He doubted any were allowed to hold him close the way he was allowed to, doubted any had seen him at his worst and loved him still, that any had allowed to see him so vulnerable in the way Eskel had many times before.

Doubted any had given their hearts so willingly over to him as well.

“Tease - sweet Melitele, Eskel, if you don’t start using that tongue I swear to fuck-” Geralt hissed down at him, his patience breaking and hand tugging at Eskel’s hair in his own sort of plea.

Right. He huffed out a breath that made Geralt swear at him again with it so close to his cock; he really should remember that this was, well, different for the both of them. Maybe he got all he needed just kissing every inch of him but Geralt was after something more.

Didn’t mean Eskel had to be nice about it though. With a glint of mischief in his eyes, he flashed a smile up at Geralt, and then immediately wrapped his lips right around his cock and swallowed around him. The taste of pre was thick on his tongue as Geralt swore, practiced experience having Eskel’s hands coming up to hold Geralt’s hips down since he saw the jerk of them coming. Choking on his love’s cock had never seemed all that appealing to him, no matter that he loved the feel of having him thick against his tongue, feeling the weight there.

Eskel sunk down low, humming very lightly to feel Geralt’s nails scratch gently at his scalp, his love trying to find purchase but being as gentle as he could. He relaxed his jaw to keep from aching, hollowing out his cheeks as he pulled back until just the tip stayed in his mouth, licking the slit and feeling Geralt leak for him.

This was something they could both enjoy greatly. He heard Geralt moan as he sunk down again, his own cock twitching in his pants but he ignored it, not really caring if it got any attention throughout their evening. Though, he supposed, it would eventually once they were joined, but Eskel was much more concerned with their current connection.

It was why he loved this so much. He rested his head briefly against Geralt’s thigh just to feel it warm against him as he sucked lightly on the head of his prick, one hand coming up to fondle his sack, rolling a testicle and feeling Geralt twitch beneath him. There was just something so soothing about being connected like this, in such an intimate way, that Eskel had to fight against the urge to relax and simply lay there, simply exist in that connection - it would drive Geralt up the wall for him to do so, it would earn him so many accusations of teasing but there was no purposeful teasing meant about it. Eskel just…

Perhaps he loved differently, he mused, as he lifted his head once more to sink down and run the flat of his tongue against the bottom of Geralt’s shaft. Perhaps he simply loved being as close as physically possible to his love, and this was one way he could do that. Feel Geralt inside of him and know there were little ways they could be closer than this, than to be intertwined in such a way.

Geralt’s moaning had deepened, rumbling above him. Some words managed to escape him here and there, the occasional praise, his name, his hand cupping the back of Eskel’s head as Geralt did his best to not push him to go faster - as they both knew he wanted to. It gave Eskel a thought that he made sure to put away for later; sometime, he should let Geralt use his mouth as he pleased, but for now he wanted to enjoy this entanglement the way he best knew how.

When the ‘tease’ word slipped out again, Eskel hollowed his cheeks and lifted his head until he let Geralt’s cock slip out with an audible pop, watching it fall heavy and swollen and wanting in his absence. He kissed its leaking head a few times, then kissed down its shaft and over to one of his thighs once more, looking up between his eyelashes in that way he knew Geralt loved as he purred, “You love it” in accusation right back.

Sure, he never meant to tease - well. Usually his actions weren’t meant that way. But it didn’t mean he was entirely oblivious to how much Geralt actually loved being worked up into a tither.

But, Eskel supposed, he’d been ‘teased’ enough. He patted Geralt’s thigh affectionately and then pushed himself up, letting Geralt grunt at him all he wanted while he got up to fetch the oil. It had been left in his pack when they’d gotten to the inn, tossed somewhere into the big pocket, which meant it took him a minute to fish it out. When he finally stood back up he turned to find Geralt palming himself, his eyes heady as he watched Eskel’s movements.

“Pants off,” Geralt ordered, and Eskel found it just amusing enough to listen. He tossed the oil at his face first, not doubting for a second that his hand would snatch it right out of the air, and in no rush finally undid the buckles for his own pants and slipped out of his smalls.

The cold air hitting his own prick made him want to hiss. He glanced down, not having really even realized how much his body had been reacting to this, finding himself heavy and wanting - only natural, he supposed. The scent of sex and arousal was heavy in the air and it had been a while since he’d given himself any sort of satisfaction; Geralt had gone off on his own for the past few months to try and hunt down his friend, after having shown him his arse on top of a mountain, leaving Eskel to his own devices in the meantime.

And left to his own devices, Eskel had little to no real interest in taking the time to relieve himself in such a fashion - most days he forgot about it entirely, until he was perhaps a little too grouchy when asking for the right payment for a hunt, or when he found himself staring a little too long at some cute thing that passed him by.

He climbed back into bed and resumed his position between Geralt’s thighs, this time hooking his fingers under his knees and lifting him up so he could get a good look at his entrance. With an outstretched hand he asked for the oil back, catching it when it was tossed at his face in revenge, flashing his love an amused smirk and loving the one he saw on Geralt’s face as well.

The look lost its amusement when he swatted Geralt’s hand away from his cock, replaced with a glower that held no real heat. He apologized with a kiss that made Geralt buck his hips just to be a prick, and Eskel nipped his thigh in revenge.

“Get on with it.”

One of these days, Eskel was going to ignore him. He shook his head fondly, already missing the way Geralt’s fingers felt in his hair and the way he felt on his tongue but more than willing to ‘get on with it’ if that’s what Geralt wanted.

He popped the oil open and slicked up three of his fingers, though he would only be using one for the time being, before pouring some directly below Geralt’s sack to watch it drip down his crack. It made Geralt shiver and made a bit of a mess on the sheets but Eskel was, if anything, very careful about this sort of thing. The last thing he wanted was to cause Geralt any sort of discomfort, though he knew there was always going to be some measure of that whenever stretching him open; his plan was always to cause as little unnecessary discomfort as possible, all things considered.

With his slicked up middle finger, he slipped down and followed the path of the dripping oil, running it against Geralt’s entrance and watching it twitch at the light attention. As Geralt tried to push down into it, Eskel held one of his legs up further, pushing it up by the thigh to give him a good view of what he was doing, of the attention he was giving his love. His finger glided so easily over where Geralt wanted it, and he circled it on his entrance, pushing ever so gently to see how easy it might give to the pressure.

Didn’t take much to push in just to the first knuckle, feeling the ring of muscle clench around him. He heard the gasp and subsequent exhale of air when he did, heard Geralt’s heartbeat pick up ever so slightly as he rubbed inside of him, feeling the tug of it all. Geralt clenched down at the hint that he might take his finger out and it made Eskel huff out some air of his own; Geralt really didn’t want to let him go, did he?

But he was a bit too tight, not relaxing for him. He worked that one finger in gently, in and out slower than Geralt would have preferred, feeling his thigh clenching under his hand as he did. Slowly, the resistance faded, Eskel kissing the leg that he held up and murmuring for Geralt to relax for him, let him take care of him.

It made his heart ache in the best of ways that Geralt did let him. That Geralt moved about as best he could in his position to gather the pillows up to prop his head up with, aided by one arm behind his head, so he could watch what Eskel was doing with hungry eyes - that Geralt laid back and relaxed even as his arousal laid heavy against his stretched out thigh, still dripping precum, still wanting the touch it was now denied as Eskel was busy elsewhere.

Meant the world to him that Geralt let him do this. Let him take the reins and work him open, slipping two fingers in now as he peppered more kisses anywhere he could reach, bending down to kiss at the back of the thigh he held tight to stretch his hips wider.

When he finally had two fingers fully in him, he let Geralt move just enough to rock into them. He loved feeling Geralt clench around them and hear him groan at the connection - though, he suspected it was more how full he felt than the connection itself, given the heady sound of it. That didn’t stop Eskel’s heart from feeling just as full; he had to bite his lip to stop from getting too emotional over this, just like usual. Something about being with Geralt like this always made him turn into such a sap it was nearly embarrassing. He was just grateful Lambert would never catch wind of any of this, to at least spare him the constant embarrassment and teasing over getting teary eyed over making love.

At least Geralt had either not ever noticed or was choosing to ignore the sap that bubbled up and threatened to spill over. Eskel crooked his fingers and felt them drag across Geralt’s inner walls, drawing a low moan out of him, flicking his gaze up to quirk an eyebrow at the hand that inched towards Geralt’s cock.

“I’ll get to it,” he promised, searching around with his two fingers. “Let me take care of you.”

The hand paused, and Eskel continued his searching. It took a little while, perhaps a minute or so, but he wasn’t in any rush - but when he finally found that bundle of nerves he rubbed against it firmly, feeling Geralt suddenly clench around him with a much louder moan this time, his thigh clenching again and his breaths hitching.

Eskel had to shift about, feeling a little uncomfortable, the scent getting to him and making his own prick leak. He’d never been much of a leaker, finding it actually a little difficult to get to that point of arousal, but it dribbled out onto his thigh then and made his skin itch. But he ignored the urge to wipe it off, pulling his fingers out to the tips so he could press in with a third, feeling some resistance as he did. Not enough that it wouldn’t give but enough for him to watch Geralt’s face as he worked all three in, making sure there wasn’t any discomfort there - but the furrowing of his brow didn’t have anything to do with pain, just impatience, the urge to seek out pleasure but the knowledge that he had to be patient and wait.

It was almost cute, how frustrated Geralt could get over sex. Cute enough to earn him some more kisses, Eskel even dipping down to press one nice and firm against the side of his shaft, peppering more all the way up to swipe the precum up with his tongue.

There it was. That hand back in his hair, fingers running through his locks and making his eyes flutter closed as it gently grasped a handful at the back of his head. He hadn’t meant to just yet but he slipped Geralt’s cock back into his mouth at the feel of them, loosening up to take his entire length in, letting his nose rest in a nest of white curls and he just stayed there. Jaw slack, tongue pressed against the length of him, fingers moving while his head stayed still and he just listened and felt.

Every once in a while, he had to swallow, not wanting to drool all over his love. He worked him open and listened to him moan, listened to his hitching breaths and his heart beat faster and faster. When at last four fingers worked in and out of him with little effort Eskel decided that was enough, that he was decently stretched and wouldn’t hurt from them joining - not that Eskel had much to worry about there. His own prick wasn’t as thick as Geralt’s, rather modest in size and girth, which made it much easier to stretch him appropriately beforehand. Much faster than the other way around, when their norm had been Geralt inside of him, one reason Eskel had never quite understood the societal embarrassment over smaller pricks.

As he positioned himself closer, not wanting to pull Geralt down from his comfy position propped up on the pillows, he hitched both of his legs up to wrap them around his hips. Geralt helped pull him closer and squeezed him gently between his thick thighs as Eskel took himself in hand, guiding his prick towards that well stretched hole and gently grinding it between his cheeks.

“Fuck, wait.” Eskel paused, looking here and there, not immediately spotting what he was after. Which earned him an impatient growl but he just soothed a hand over Geralt’s stomach and ignored the bucking of his hips, finally spotting and grabbing the previously abandoned oil - which he had thankfully remembered to cap before it had been tossed recklessly to the side. At least it had also stayed within arm’s reach. He poured a generous amount into his palm before stroking himself a few times, squeezing just because he could, making sure he was oiled up nicely before guiding himself back to where his love wanted him.

He slipped in with ease, pushing passed that ring of tight muscles and shuddering at the feel of it squeezing around the tip of his prick. When he showed signs of stopping there to enjoy it a moment Geralt pushed back onto him, pulling him closer with his crossed ankles, and Eskel huffed in amusement but obeyed. It didn’t take long before he was fully inside of him, feeling him contracting around him in pleasure, Geralt’s eyes closed and his back arching ever so slightly off of the bed as he enjoyed their joining.

Eskel could not have found a better home than here, where he was. His own breaths shuddered, head dropping as he closed his eyes and took it in. The warmth that spread through him had little to do with the sexual pleasure and everything to do with how close they were. How impossibly close, but never close enough. Suddenly he needed to be closer, needed to have his arms around his love- Eskel moved them around until he was laying against Geralt’s chest, worming his arms underneath him to hug him tight, feeling Geralt’s thighs squeeze around him as he did.

Eyes shut tight, Eskel buried his nose against Geralt, letting it all wash over him and melting the second he felt those strong arms envelope him right back. One hand flat against his back, the other in his hair, scratching at his scalp and cradling his head with such care.

He breathed. That’s all he could do then, as they were, closer now than ever before. He felt wrapped up tight and safe in that moment, and felt complete, like the warmth in his chest would never go away. It felt like the cumulation of all he’d ever wanted each and every time he took such care of his love, what he’d always been chasing every time he wrapped his lips around his prick or felt how warm Geralt was around his fingers.

All of it had led to this, feeling impossibly close and complete now with him. Like they trusted and loved each other like no other could, the intimacy of it all making the corners of his eyes wet with emotion.

“You alright?”

He cracked his eyes open, peeking up through thankfully dry eyelashes at the gentlest of tones. Concern was written on the downpull of Geralt’s frown but Eskel tugged one of his hands free, reaching up to sooth it away with the rough pad of his thumb.

“‘M fine.” He pressed his hips closer and shifted just enough to feel their connection, sighing into it. “I just...love you.”

It sounded lame to his own ears, but mercifully Geralt didn’t tease him over it. He kissed his thumb instead, a softness taking over his expression then as he rubbed gentle circles into his back and held him closer.

“Love you too.” He shifted as well, a noise escaping his throat as his now trapped prick rubbed against Eskel’s stomach. “But can the cuddling come later? After?”

Eskel kissed the pectoral he’d been burying his nose into, humming thoughtfully. “Didn’t think you a cuddler, Geralt. Wonder what your bard would do with that knowledge.”

He got bucked for that tease, breaking the softness that had overcome him and replacing it with warm humor. To say Geralt had been patient with him would have been a lie but he had allowed him this much so far; the least Eskel could do was help him come, and then get on with his soggy emotional cuddling.

It still took a lot out of him to peel himself off of Geralt enough to be able to continue on like he wanted. He had also gone a little soft in his emotions, though he knew it wouldn’t take too long to remedy that - a few rocks of his hips brought most of the interest back, tingles of pleasure working their way through him, deep inhales through his nose letting his brain go a little foggy with the scent of oil and sex about them. Since Geralt had had plenty of time to get used to him, the glide of his prick in and out of his arse was smooth, allowing a nice amount of friction to have them both letting out small noises.

Chasing his own arousal had never really mattered to him, but helping Geralt build up his own sounded quite delightful. Especially so with how Geralt laid himself out so beautifully for him, one arm back behind his head so he could take in what Eskel was doing to him, for him, the other reaching down to take one of Eskel’s hands. His heart skipped in his chest as their fingers laced together, his hips starting a steady rhythm.

He hadn’t found quite the right position yet, though. That bundle of nerves was evading him; Eskel frowned in concentration, feeling the scars on his face pull at the movement, searching for it as he tilted his hips here and there. And he knew the moment he found it because it jerked a moan out of the both of them, Geralt bucking and clenching tightly around him as his eyes squeezed tight and his back arched upward.

Yes, he quite liked helping Geralt find pleasure. He did his best to aim for that spot, knowing Geralt liked it hit dead on - he himself usually preferred a light touch there, not really caring for how brightly it took over his brain when it was impacted so directly - and doing his best to do that for him. Like always it wasn’t a perfect thing, his cock slipping out once and he had to unlace their fingers to guide himself back in while Geralt hissed at his absence, clenching around air and telling him quite clearly how he needed his cock, needed to feel full, full of him.

Soon, Eskel felt the telltale signs of his own orgasm nearing. A coil in the pit of his gut clenching and needing release, his breaths coming quicker, his heart joining the symphony of fast breaths and skin hitting skin in his ears. Geralt’s neglected cock lay against his stomach in a pool of pre, begging to be touched, and Eskel reached for it then, dragging Geralt’s hand with his own by their laced fingers.

With both of their hands gripped tight around Geralt’s cock, gliding easy with the help of his precum and the oil that had kept Eskel’s hand slick, it did not take long for Geralt’s movements to become jerky. His eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight but mouth slightly open, the only sounds coming out of him now being his shuddering breaths. A few more jerks of their hands and he exhaled sharply, come spurting out as Eskel fucked him through his orgasm, swallowing back his own moan at the feel of it hitting Geralt and making him contract almost painfully around him.

This time, Eskel felt his need far too heavily to think of stopping himself. His hips stuttered and words fell out from between his lips, incoherent things that slipped out as pleasure washed over him as well, his spend soon dripping out from Geralt as he slowed and finally stopped altogether.

It took effort to not drop down on top of him. Eskel stretched his back and groaned at a pop, then lowered himself onto his love, not caring that they were covered in sweat and spend - and Geralt didn’t care either, wrapping his arms around him to tug him close and placing kisses to the top of his head.

Eskel did his best to not slip out of him, pressing them close as he burrowed himself right back into his love’s chest, feeling that warmth spread through him yet again. He was home in his arms, wrapped up safe and warm, and if he had any say in the matter he would not be leaving anytime soon.

“I love you.” It meant the world to him that he was allowed to say it, to whisper it against that sweaty chest, to press lazy and lingering kisses there as he wished. But it meant a whole world more to hear the words right back and feel fingers trace nonsensical patterns into his hair and skin, the day carrying on outside of their room as they found peace within each other.

#geskel #geralt #eskel #the witcher #fanfiction #mywriting #lemony #ace!eskel #i love them your honor #also ow ow ow someone plz save my fingies T^T

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stilloutofmyvulcanmind · 4 years

Text

Masquerade

Pairing: Earth-2 Harrison “Harry” Wells x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Brief mentions of violence and injuries

Summary: A chance meeting with a handsome masked stranger takes an unexpected turn

A/N: Just a little something to celebrate the Spooky Season. Happy Halloween!

The CCPD’s Halloween charity event had been one of your favorite nights of the year since you were a teen attending with your parents. And though you weren’t an official member of the force, you were still invited every year, and every year you couldn’t wait.

The theme this Halloween was ‘masquerade’. Wear whatever costume you desire, but pair it with a mask. You’d chosen to stick with a classic vampire costume, wearing a black and deep red outfit with a matching red mask that was trimmed with shining black sequins, even going so far as to coat your hair in a sparkly wash out dye so you practically looked unrecognizable.

Roaming the hall that had been hired out, you sipped the toxic green fruity drink that was being served and mingled with the other party-goers. Some you were able to recognize, like Barry and Iris, others you had no idea about. It didn’t matter. Half the fun was in not knowing, and like this everyone was free to speak to anyone, regardless of role or rank.

It was a couple of hours in when you spotted a man lurking by himself near the buffet table. Going by the cloak draped over his shoulders, he was channeling his inner vampire too, though instead of black and red, his colors of choice were black and a beautiful silver. With his dark hair and pale skin, he looked almost ethereal. And miserable if the scowl plastered to his face had anything to go by.

“Tonight isn’t meant to be painful, you know,” you said, coming to stand next to him and offering a glass.

He looked at the glass like you were giving him poison, and for a moment you thought he was just going to walk away, but then he raised his gaze to your face, eyes mostly hidden behind the black mask, and seemed to change his mind. He accepted the drink, “Easy enough to say when you’re a social butterfly.”

Laughing softly, you watched him take a long sip of the fruity cocktail, making a face at the sugary taste. “I don’t know if I’d say I’m that. I just like Halloween, and combining that with raising money for a good cause, what’s not to like?”

“Nothing. Unless money gets skimmed off the top.”

“No one does that.”

“Can you be certain?”

“Yes.”

“Are you always this positive?”

“I try to be. Are you always this cynical?”

“Yes.”

You laughed again, hard enough this time that you had to clutch at your ribs. He didn’t seem impressed. “Sorry. You just remind me of someone I know.”

The man huffed, the corner of his lips quirking up. “It’s fine. You remind me of someone I know too. They’re always almost annoyingly upbeat about everything.”

“They sound like my kind of person.”

“Of course they do.”

You smiled, moving around to him to pick up one of the tinily cut sandwiches. “So, if you really don’t want to be here, then why come?”

“I was...coerced. A friend said that it’d be ‘good for me to get out and attempt to be sociable for once in my life and maybe learn not to be a jackass’.”

Nearly choking on the food, you covered your mouth as you coughed and spluttered. He was next to you instantly, a large hand coming to rub your back. “Are you okay?” He asked.

You nodded, taking a drink to clear your throat. “Yeah. Just...I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“If you knew the guy who said it, you wouldn’t be.”

“I don’t doubt it.” You were recovered now, but his hand was still a warm presence on your back. Any other time you’d be uncomfortable having a strange man so close like that, but for whatever reason, you weren’t this time. It wasn’t just that he reminded you of someone, it felt like you actually knew him. Like you could trust him. Looking past him, you saw that more people had moved to the centre of the hall to dance. You motioned to them with a nod of your head. “Well, since you are here, care to join me on the dancefloor?”

He followed your gaze, grimacing. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

Tutting, you grabbed his hand. “C’mon! Don’t be a jackass and live a little!”

You were grinning as you tugged him forward, and after a long sigh, he returned the smile. “Fine.

He let you guide him into the crowd and stayed close as you began to move to the music. He tried to join in but he hadn’t been lying when he claimed not to be a dancer. He was awkward and stiff in his movements and focusing so much it was nearly hilarious. Unable to help yourself you giggled a little, a decision you instantly regretted. He scowled and stopped.

“This was a bad idea,” he said, already starting to move away.

“No, wait!” You grabbed his wrist to stop him. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you, honest. You were...you were just kinda cute, trying so hard like that.” You pulled him back towards you, happy when he allowed it. “Look, come here.” You stepped closer into his space, placing his hands on your hips while you wrapped yours around his shoulders. “You’re thinking too much about it. Just...feel the beat, sway with it. Like this.” You started dancing again, beaming when he followed your motions, still tense, but a little smoother.

As close as you were now, it was easier to get a better look at him. Even with half his face hidden under the mask, it was easy to see he was handsome. His hair was a little lighter than you’d first thought, his face a little smoother too. In a way it was a relief. With the way he’d been speaking and acting, you were starting to think he was actually the grumpy scientist he reminded you of. Which would’ve been a problem. Because you would absolutely not be able to get away with dancing with him. Not without losing your dignity at least. With it not being him, you could relax and just enjoy yourself.

The music slowed, but rather than pull away, the mystery man closed what little distance was left between you until you were pressed flush together. He seemed even more at ease now, smiling softly as you swayed to the music.

“This is nice,” you said quietly, smiling back at him.

“It is. Thank you...for forcing me.”

“Sometimes we need a little push to leave our comfort zone.”

He hummed, inclining his head a little in agreement. He licked his lips and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but follow the motion. “Since I’m already well outside mine...can I say that I think you look beautiful?”

Cheeks heating, you chuckled nervously. “Thank you. You...you look really good too. That silver is gorgeous. I haven’t seen that shade before.”

“It’s a special one from my...home.”

“Your home must be stunning.”

“Not as much as it is here.”

“There must be something really special about Central City in that case.”

“There is.”

He had a certain look on his face. You knew it well from your own reflection. The man was smitten. “Or is it a special someone?”

He huffed a laugh, “Guilty. They’re...exceptional.”

“I get the feeling that’s high praise coming from you.”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“Do they know? How you feel?”

“No. If I have it my way they never will either.”

“Why?”

“You’ve met me. I’m cynical, brusque, grumpy-”

“A jackass?”

He laughed, nodding. “A jackass. And they’re...they’re like you.”

“Annoyingly upbeat?”

“And kind, hopeful. My antithesis. They wouldn’t be interested.”

You shrugged, “You never know, but...I understand.”

“You do?”

“Mmm. There’s a guy...a scientist. He’s...he’s a genius. Literally. He’s kinda like you too, but he’s also brave and he’d never admit it, but his heart is pure gold. He’d do anything for the ones he loves. And he’s...Harry is completely out of my league.”

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he just stared, mouth slightly agape. You were about to ask what was wrong when all hell broke loose.

A deafening white blast tore through the hall, smashing the windows in, blowing the furniture to smithereens, shattering the crystal chandeliers above your head. You were knocked back with everyone else, thrown across the debris coated floor until you hit a splintered table hard.

The man you’d been dancing with groaned next to you. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice raised to be heard over the shouts and chaos. He was hovering over you, mask gone.

You nodded slowly. Your head hurt, but it didn’t feel like anything was broken. There was a flash of yellow lightning behind him. It nearly masked the way his face glitched. Glitched and changed from an unknown figure to...someone you knew all too well.

Oh, shit.

There was another rumbling blast and Harry threw himself over you, shielding your body with his own. Clutching the soft material of his jacket was instinct, squeezing your eyes shut as you hid your face in his shirt, heart thundering in your chest.

“They’re gone!” Joe shouted somewhere to your left. “We need to get people out of here.”

Harry pulled back, breathing hard as he looked down at you. You stared back. Between the fear and the adrenaline, any thoughts on what to say, how to explain yourself vanished. His gaze dropped. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

“Your arm.”

You followed his eyes and sure enough the sleeve of your costume had been torn, revealing an ugly looking gash slicing across your bicep. You hadn’t felt it at first, but now, now the pain was setting in harsh and throbbing. Harry was already tearing the sleeve of his jacket, tying the material tightly around the injury.

“We need to get you medical help,” he said.

“We need to get back to the Labs. Barry is gonna need us.”

“The injury-”

“Caitlin can take care of it.”

Harry didn’t look happy, but he nodded, getting to his feet and helping you up too. It was easy to find Cisco, and once you were all somewhere private enough, he breached you back to the Labs before rushing to help Barry with the meta.

A couple of hours, some improvised tech and a bit of teamwork later, you had the meta caught and locked up, and you were perched on one of the beds in the med area while Caitlin finished stitching and dressing your arm properly.

Just as she was done, and you were carefully rolling down the sleeve of the S.T.A.R Labs sweatshirt you’d borrowed, Harry, who’d disappeared soon after Barry and Cisco returned, reappeared dressed in his usual all black ensemble. He hovered in the doorway, frowning as Caitlin gave you some pain meds.

“Thanks, Cait.”

“No problem,” she smiled, looking between you and Harry. You hadn’t said anything to her, but you got the feeling she knew. “I’ll leave you two alone, but get some rest soon, okay?”

“Yeah. I will.”

She left then, and Harry waited until he was sure no one else was around before approaching the bed slowly. “Are you alright?”

You nodded. “Physically, I’ll be fine. Emotionally, I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the embarrassment.”

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. This was my fault. I shouldn’t have even been there. Ramon insisted I be his ‘plus one’, and set up the facial transmogrification device just in case I was recognized.”

You nodded again, avoiding his eyes in favor of playing with the hem of your sweater. “Did you know it was me?”

“Not at first. When you said my name it all clicked.”

“So if I’d just kept my mouth shut, things could’ve gone on as normal. Great.”

“Y/N, what you said-”

“I know, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I won’t mention anything about it again, especially now I know that there’s someone else who’s caught your eye.”

You heard rather than saw as Harry grabbed a chair and pulled it around so he was sitting level in front of you. “I thought you would’ve figured it out by now.”

“Figured what out? That I’m an idiot who fell for someone I’ve no right falling for? I got that.”

“No.” Fingers were under your chin, gently coaxing your gaze back up. “Figured out that I was talking about you.”

You stared at him, “You were?”

“Yes. You’re the reason I love this Earth so much.”

“Oh.” Not the smartest reply you’d ever come up with, but you weren’t entirely sure what else to say either especially when Harry’s thumb was stroking your cheek.

“When you said my name...I almost didn’t believe it at first.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t believe that I deserved your affection.”

“Harry...you’re...you’re everything I could want.”

“As are you.”

You smiled, bringing your hand up to cover his own. “See? I told you Halloween was the best.”

Harry chuckled softly, nodding. “I’ll give you this one.”

“Good.”

Harry leaned in. You met him halfway.

Best Halloween ever.

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee! I’ll love you forever!

#harry wells x reader #Harry Wells oneshot #harrison wells x reader #Harrison Wells oneshot #Harry Wells #harrison wells #earth 2 harrison wells x reader

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spicycreativity · 3 years

Text

Intertwined - Chapter 2

Chapter: 2/9

Additional Notes: Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick"

Chapter Content Warnings: N/A, ask to tag

Excerpt: Patton watched, endeared. Seeing Janus laugh was like catching the green flash at sunset, a rare and beautiful sight he never thought he would be lucky enough to see.

Despite last night's promise, Janus was different. Or rather, he was the same: flashing only a token smile at Patton as he draped himself artfully over the kitchen island.

From the moment Janus had set foot in the kitchen, Patton could feel the regression. It was written in the gentle boredom resting atop Janus' features, in the way he made a show of fussing with his capelet. Like he had better things to do, and anything, even the drape of his clothing, was higher priority than Patton.

It hurt, but Patton swallowed it down because it was the only thing he knew how to do, and did his best to make Janus feel welcome.

"Morning!" he said brightly, already reaching for the coffee pot. Despite last night's lack of sleep, he had awoken to his natural rhythm (which was, much to Logan's curiosity, separate from Thomas' own), and immediately set about consuming as much caffeine as he could get his hands on. It had worked its magic, to a certain degree, and Patton found the day much easier to face. "Coffee?"

Janus nodded without making eye contact, glancing instead over his shoulder, then leaning forward to look into the white fog where the hallway turned back into the subconscious. "Don't tell me the others are still sulking?"

That stung. Patton tugged at one of the friendship bracelets encircling his right wrist, reminded himself to be patient. "They're allowed to be upset," he said, polishing his tone to a gleaming, brassy shine.

"What about Virgil?" Janus asked. Patton frowned, remembering how distant he had been, and turned away from the coffee pot to face Janus.

Patton wasn't sure what he'd expected. Janus' face gave nothing away, but... could he be worried about seeing Virgil? Why else would he ask? "Virgil might wander in," Patton said cautiously. "He's a late sleeper."

Janus nodded, studying his nails with a nonchalant expression even though he was wearing gloves. Patton squinted, opened his mouth to speak, remembered something. "Right, coffee." He took a mug down from the cabinet by the refrigerator, choosing a pale blue one with a pink heart on it. They had lots of mugs because that was how a home should be. Extra everything for guests and travelers and family.

"I had forgotten about Virgil," Janus said quietly. "So he's still practically nocturnal?"

"Only sometimes," Patton admitted. Hopefully Virgil wouldn't mind his saying so. It wasn't like Janus was a stranger, after all. "Milk in your coffee?"

"I'll take care of it," Janus said. He was smiling and sitting up when Patton turned to hand him the mug, and although he was no longer draped over the kitchen island, he seemed more relaxed, somehow.

Patton sighed, relief coursing through him at the return of this Janus. His Janus. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes," Janus said, and Patton wasn't sure whether to believe him. He was so guarded all the time. He never seemed to give anything up by accident. "I suppose you did as well?"

"Actually, I did," Patton said. He leaned over the kitchen island so he could face Janus, who had put his head down, staring fixedly into the shimmering black of his coffee. The set to his jaw was familiar, the refusal to look up. He looked embarrassed, although Patton couldn't fathom why. He decided to continue talking, to make the space more comfortable. "Yup, I fell asleep pretty much as soon as my head hit the pillow. Guess you could say I was frog tired." He winced, grateful that Janus wasn't looking at him, and pressed on. "Anyway! Want me to make you breakfast? I can do happy face pancakes better than Denny's."

"Better than Denny's?" Janus said, finally looking up. All traces of embarrassment were gone from his face; he turned his human side to Patton and gave a crooked smile. "Why, Patton, are you boasting?"

Reflexive shame warmed Patton's cheeks at the call out, but Janus was still smiling. Oh. He was teasing. "Better than Denny's," Patton affirmed. This was new territory, but it felt safe, somehow. Janus was being… Well, nice. Smiling and relaxed, he looked as at-ease as any of the others would. Like he belonged here.

"Who could say no to that?" Janus said. His snake eye lit up when he smiled, Patton noticed suddenly. It wasn't the same as the human side, but then, it was probably hard to get any expression at all out of the left side, what with the scales getting in the way.

Patton smiled, too, and for a moment, all his troubles seemed like distant things. But the respite didn't last and guilt turned in his stomach. He would make enough pancakes for everyone, and deliver them to Roman and Logan if they didn't show up. None of them technically needed to eat, being imaginary; none of them needed to do anything at all. But Patton liked to cook, and the thought of Roman and Logan sitting alone with nothing made his breath hitch. Yes, he would make enough for all of them and then some.

Neither Janus nor Patton made any attempts at conversation while Patton got all his ingredients together. Logan had told him the name for that, some Italian phrase, or maybe it was French. That sounded right. "Hey, Janus?" Patton called over his shoulder, tossing a bag of butterscotch chips onto the counter.

"Yes?"

"Do you know what this is called?" Patton asked, already transitioning to the fridge for the whipped cream.

There was a pause. "...The kitchen?" Janus said.

"No, no." Patton set the whipped cream down on the kitchen island and popped the cap off. "When you get all your stuff together before you cook. I think it's French?"

"Oh," said Janus, his face growing thoughtful. " Omelette du fromage."

"No!" Patton turned away to laugh, one hand still on the whipped cream canister.

"Scout's honor." Janus held up his gloved right hand, facade not cracking for even a moment.

"It starts with an M, I think," Patton said, twisting up his mouth as he tried to remember.

This bubbled over into laughter when Janus said, deadly serious, " Momelette du fromage." That was when he finally lost it, and hid his mouth behind his hand, shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth.

Patton watched, endeared. Seeing Janus laugh was like catching the green flash at sunset, a rare and beautiful sight he never thought he would be lucky enough to see.

His palm began to ache with cold, and he realized he was still holding onto the whipped cream. Remembering his idea, he waited for Janus to surface from behind his hands before brandishing the canister. "Open."

"Shut," said Janus, eying him with obvious doubt.

"Open!" Patton insisted, shaking the can a little.

"Absolutely not!" Janus said. "Here." He finished his coffee in a few swallows and held the empty cup out to Patton. "They do this for dogs at drive-throughs, you know."

"A puppaccino for you," Patton said, filling the mug with whipped cream. He was just about to tilt his head back and spray some into his mouth when Virgil rounded the corner all cloaked in shadows, with his hood up like the Grim Reaper. Patton flinched so hard it almost hurt. "Virgil! Good morning, kiddo!"

"Not with him here," Virgil said, jerking his hooded head at Janus.

The change was nearly instantaneous and it came down in front of Janus like heavy iron bars. He leaned back in his chair, resting one elbow on the back of it so he could toy with what few strands of hair peeked out from under his hat. "Now, Virgil , is that polite?" he asked, affecting shock and offense. His eyes flicked to Patton, but he stopped short of making eye contact and directed his gaze downward instead. "Here I am talking with my friend--" a pause-- "and you come in here and insult me."

“Seriously.” Virgil looked at Patton. “What is he doing here?”

“Sitting,” Janus said before Patton could even think. “Is that allowed?”

"Uh, since you're asking my permission, no. It's not allowed. Get lost."

"Yes, that obviously wasn't a rhetorical question. You're so clever."

Panic welled up in Patton’s throat and he couldn’t control it-- they were just bickering now, but it would spiral and someone’s feelings would get hurt. He didn't even realize he was backing away until he hit the wall behind him. Oh, god, he wouldn’t have to choose, would he? He couldn’t. Just the thought made his breath hitch like croaking in his throat and no no no--

"Virgil," Janus said, a touch too loud. "Truce."

Patton looked at him, panic falling away in the face of his confusion.

"What?" Patton watched Virgil's posture open a little, shifting from defensive to something a bit more neutral, versatile. "What are you trying to pull?"

Janus waved a hand, flashing yellow in Patton's peripheral vision. "Patton can fill you in the gory details as he sees fit. Here's what you need to know: I'm in."

"You're in?" Virgil repeated.

"I'm in," Janus said again. "Quid pro quo." He paused in between each syllable, his gaze intense and never wavering from Virgil. "I gave up my name--"

"You what?"

" Please interrupt me; that will make this go so much smoother." Janus paused, but Patton and Virgil remained silent. "I gave up my name, and in return, was given a voice." He turned his face downward and began to fuss with his right glove, and it took Patton a moment to realize that he was taking it off. For what? Another vow? What else could he possibly have to swear to?

"What are you doing?" Virgil asked, drawing back as Janus stepped away from the kitchen island and approached him.

Janus held up his bare right hand like a magician at a street show, then held it out for Virgil to shake. "Truce, Virgil. You don't like me, I don't care about you, blah blah blah. That doesn't have to change. But for Patton’s sake, for everyone’s sake, we can at least be civil."

Patton watched them in wide-eyed silence. For his sake? Janus was doing this for him?

The silence stretched on.

"Look," Janus said, clearly losing patience. "There's nothing I can do to make you trust me--"

"Uh, you could start by losing the attitude," Virgil sneered. Something clicked in Patton's head, but he had no time to pursue it as Virgil turned toward him with a hard look in his eyes. "Patton."

"Yeah, Virgil?"

"What's his name?"

Patton pressed his back harder against the wall, letting it take more and more of his weight. That was all he wanted, someone to hold him up for a while. But he had nothing, nothing but the turmoil before him and the cold, white wall behind his back and friendship bracelets like circles of fire around his wrists. "It's Janus."

Virgil scoffed, and something akin to a smile flashed on his lips for just a moment. And then, to Patton's surprise, Virgil shook Janus' hand.

“Am I interrupting something?” Logan’s voice came from the doorway sounding as cold as the air around them, though Patton was reasonably sure that was poor Roman’s doing.

“‘Morning, Teach,” Virgil said, withdrawing his hand from Janus’ and shoving it in his pocket. “You’re not interrupting anything. What’s up?”

“Why don’t you sit down?” The words left Patton’s mouth in a frantic yelp, all high-pitched and desperate. He didn’t care. He just needed Logan to be okay; it was his job to make sure Logan was okay.

"No, thank you," Logan said firmly. "I only came to invite you to a meeting." He lifted his head and looked at Janus. " All of you."

"What kind of meeting?" Patton asked.

"A meeting regarding Thomas' functioning from this point forward. I believe we have cause to reassess some matters and re-examine some notions that were previously regarded as truths," Logan said "Please meet me back here at precisely 9:30. That is one hour and 23 minutes from now. I am telling you this now so you have adequate time to prepare and do not keep me waiting." Logan turned to leave.

"Wait!" Patton said, throat aching with the urge to cry. "Don't you want-- I can make toast or, or you can put Crofter's on the pancakes. The batter’s almost done."

“No, thank you,” Logan said, just as firmly as he had turned Patton away last night, before he’d gone to see Janus. And he turned and walked away.

“Jeeze,” Virgil said, his face still half-hidden under his hood. “What happened to him?” So Patton told him what had happened the night before.

And when he was done, Virgil had knocked his hood back, angry tears glimmering in his eyes. He rounded on Janus, practically shouting. “That was completely out of line!" Janus was silent. "It wasn't enough to completely shatter Roman's trust in himself, no , you just couldn't handle the insult to your precious pride , could you? God, you're such a jerk. I should drag you down to Roman's room right now and make you apologize, you-- you snake. "

"Virgil!" Patton interrupted, feeling the shards of his broken heart shatter into smaller pieces. "That's not fair."

"Not fair ?" Virgil repeated. He had gone bright red, both his hands clenched into fists. "What's not fair is that Roman's all alone in his room thinking that Thomas doesn't care about him!" He rounded on Janus again, angry tears still sparkling in the corners of his eyes, "It should be you; I wish it was you. You just fucking break things, don't you? You keep trying to tell us you're not the bad guy, so why is it that everything you touch ends up like this, huh? Why can't you just leave us the fuck alone?"

“Enough, Virgil,” Patton said, shooting an apologetic look at Janus. But Janus seemed unperturbed, standing with his arms crossed and a pitying expression on his face, like Virgil had just made a gaffe at a dinner party.

For some reason, that only made Patton feel worse. He was supposed to be their shepherd, the light to unite them and guide them through troubled times, and all he had done recently was cause fights and make people miserable. He would have to try extra hard at Logan’s meeting. They could all be friends again, for Thomas’ sake. They just had to work together.

"Aww," said Patton, desperate to break the chilly silence the only way he knew how. "It's nice to all be together, isn't it?"

He scanned everyone's faces for some trace of happiness, grasping for something, anything. Eye contact, half a smile. Just some hope that he hadn't broken things beyond repair.

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, which was… Well, it was something. It was more than Logan's sickening lack of expression, it was more than Janus' closed-off scowl. Roman made a noise that Patton recognized at once as a choked sob, and continued to stare into middle distance.

Logan had gathered them into a conference room, evidently of his own invention; Patton had certainly never seen it before. Sitting down felt wrong, since they usually had these conversations standing and facing each other, but there wasn't really anywhere to stand. So they all sat in the high-backed leather chairs, spread out around a massive wooden table so varnished and clean that it reflected the fluorescent lights overhead.

Patton, not Logan, sat at the head of it. He hadn't noticed, at first, until they were all seated and everyone had turned to face him. The ensuing case of nerves made his stomach turn. What did it say about him, that he had taken the seat at the head of the table without even thinking? No one else had gone for it… Had Patton trained them all so well, manipulated them into being obedient for him?

Over to Patton's right, Janus planted his elbow right on the lacquered tabletop and rested his chin on his knuckles. "Alright, let's see Paul Allen's card."

From Patton's left, he heard Virgil snicker and clear his throat, but when Patton turned to look, he had gone back to glaring at Janus.

"American Psycho?" Janus continued, evidently unbothered by the lack of response. "No? Tough crowd."

Patton frantically tried to think of an American Psycho quote to answer back with, but he hadn't been paying attention when Thomas had watched the movie. All the blood made him feel queasy, not to mention the drug use and sex.

He was paying for it now, with no way to support Janus. Not that Janus seemed to mind; he was lounging in the stiff leather chair like it was his own personal throne.

"Let's begin," Logan said. He was sitting straight upright in his own chair, all the way down at the other end of the table. He sat across from Roman, the two of them as far from Patton as they could possibly be. "As you all know, Thomas doesn't know what to do in his immediate future. He is currently lying in bed staring at the wall, a behavior which was previously considered unacceptable. The purpose of this meeting is to determine how we should guide Thomas through this… fraught time."

Logan stopped speaking, and what Patton had thought would be a pause stretched out into an awkward silence. "Uh, don't you have any suggestions, Logan?"

"No."

"Well, um. Shouldn't he get up and make breakfast or something?"

"If you feel that is the best course of action, I will write it down." A legal pad and a pen appeared before Logan and he began to write.

"Roman?" Patton said. "Anything? Maybe he could watch Parks and Rec while he eats? Or, uh, something else. Whatever he wants to watch."

"I don't care," Roman said in a hoarse, ragged voice.

"What?" Patton's heart wrenched, and the sensation was painful enough to make him twitch.

"I don't care," Roman repeated. "Whatever you say."

The scratching of Logan's pen seemed to echo in Patton's ears and he swore he could feel a physical weight on his chest. "Wh-whatever I say?" This wasn’t right; they were supposed to contribute… They were supposed to help...

"Oh," Janus' voice cut through the fog. Patton focused on him, the only light in this storm. "You've got to be kidding me." He laughed, all his features lighting up in a parody of mirth. " That was your takeaway from last night? That Patton should be in charge of everything?" He lifted his head and shifted in his seat, bringing up his hands in tandem like an orchestra conductor. "I'd love to know what factored into that decision. Was it the part where he cracked under the pressure you already put on him? Because that makes perfect sense. What do you do when a bridge is collapsing? Put more weight on it, of course! How very logical!"

"And I'm sure you'd prefer it if we all put you in charge?" Virgil snapped. Patton turned his head to look at him, not wanting to be rude, but Virgil didn't seem to notice. He had somehow found space to draw his knees up to his chest and wrap his arms around them. Only his eyes peeked out from behind his legs, and his gaze never wavered from Janus.

" Yes , Virgil, that's my point! Take all that pressure off Patton and put it on me, that's exactly what I want. Congratulations, you uncovered my evil scheme to work myself into a nervous breakdown. I wonder what video game character I'll turn into."

"Like you haven't been aiming for a total takeover this whole time! Patton's probably your next target."

Janus actually laughed at this, which Patton almost couldn't conceive of. How could Janus laugh when Virgil was throwing such terrible accusations at him? They were both being so-- so ugly . The idea that Virgil might be right-- No. Patton couldn't even consider it. He had made the choice to trust Janus and he had to stick with it, right or wrong.

He slammed his palms onto the tabletop, marring its spotless surface with his touch. "Just stop! Stop arguing!" Great, everyone was looking at him now. "I can't be in charge of Thomas all by myself. Please help me."

Roman planted his forearm on the table and buried his face in it. Logan made a note on his legal pad. Patton had never been a violent soul, but for a moment he was nearly overcome by the sudden urge to grab Logan's rollerball and snap it in half.

"Patton," Virgil murmured.

"Just help me," Patton repeated, staring at the smudges his palms had left on the lacquer.

Janus stretched one arm across the table and stole Logan's legal pad and pen. He tore off the first page and began to write, speaking aloud as he did so. "Breakfast. Cereal, something easy. Parks and Rec. He gets three episodes, then he's getting up to brush his teeth, then going for a walk around the neighborhood. With headphones."

"Without," Virgil said. "In case someone tries to sneak up on him and jump him."

Janus paused in his writing and stared at Virgil. Then his gaze flicked to Patton and, to Patton's surprise, he nodded and went back to writing. He was honoring the truce after all. "No headphones." He pursed his lips, as though physically holding back whatever comment he wanted to make. After a moment's pause, he added, "In fact. He's putting his phone on 'do not disturb.'"

"But what if--" Patton blurted before he could stop himself. He covered his mouth with his hand until he noticed Virgil glaring at Janus. He shook his head at Virgil and dropped his hand. "What if someone needs Thomas?"

"And they think he's ignoring them," Virgil added. "And they get mad and stop trusting him."

"Any point on this list is negotiable," Janus said, and Patton had known him long enough to tell that Janus was only setting up the pins for the sake of knocking them down, "but only if your argument is reasonable. Hypotheticals are not reasonable arguments."

"Told you so," Virgil said to Patton. "He wants total control."

Janus slapped the pen down on the table with an unpleasant crack and pushed the legal pad toward Virgil. "Behold! My nefarious agenda."

Before Virgil could move, before Patton himself could be tempted to look, he flipped the legal pad over and slid it back to Janus without reading a single word. "I believe you."

"Patton--" Virgil protested.

"We can work this out like adults," Patton said.

"Well," Logan said frostily, standing up from his chair. "It appears as though you have matters under control without the need for my further involvement." He sank out before Patton could even start thinking of something to say.

Roman lifted his head, revealing tired eyes. At least he hadn't been crying at the table, Patton supposed. "I'm going to go, too," he said, and sank out without another word. The temperature rose noticeably, but remained uncomfortably cold. Poor Roman. It wasn’t often that he got so upset that he lost control of his imagination.

"You next," Virgil said to Janus. "Me 'n' Pat have got this handled. We can do this on our own." He looked expectantly to Patton, gesturing with his head for Patton to dismiss Janus.

Patton sighed. Why was Janus the only one who didn't seem to want something from him? Janus, who Patton even a day prior had suspected of puppeting them toward some bleak apocalypse, was the only one not trying to get him to do anything. Patton almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Everything was wrong.

"I don't think I can do this," Patton murmured, staring at his palm prints. Even after his colossal screw-up last night, they were all looking to him. He had failed, let them all down. He was the one who had manipulated everyone into seeing him as a good person, a leader, a father . And even after watching him fall, they all still trusted him to make it right.

Everyone except Janus.

Patton never could have guessed that the idea of not being trusted would be so comforting.

"You have to!" Virgil said.

"I know."

"Anytime you want to wrap up this little soap opera," Janus said. He was lounging in his chair looking supremely unbothered, spinning Logan's pen across his gloved fingertips. "We need to decide what Thomas should eat for lunch. He just bought a bag of granola--"

"No!" Patton and Virgil shouted in tandem.

"Don't we have to worry about, like, nutrition or whatever?" Virgil continued, smoothing his hair back.

"Logan would know all about that," Patton said, staring at Logan's empty chair. "I wish…" He let the sentence go unfinished. It didn't matter.

" One day of mindless self indulgence isn't going to kill him," Janus said. "See what I did there?"

"Read the room, dude," Virgil said.

Patton let them bicker for no other reason than that he no longer had the mental energy to tune in. They were only arguing, after all, and he was here if they needed him.

He really hoped they didn't need him. That ugly desire dominated his mind, the sudden, selfish urge to be completely unavailable. It was wrong . It was wrong to be selfish, it was wrong to shut down like this when the others were depending on him.

Suddenly the walls felt like they were closing in. He wished Logan had included some windows or something, some decor. Anything other than this sickening seafoam green paint.

"Thomas can put his phone on 'do not disturb,'" Patton announced. He wasn't sure if Virgil and Janus were even still arguing about that, but they were definitely arguing about something.

"What?" said Virgil. "You're seriously taking his side?"

Janus said nothing, but the splotches of yellow and black in Patton's peripheral vision had gone very, very still.

"Virgil, I need you to understand, I'm not taking anyone's side. It's just that… Well, you heard what happened when I tried to guess the right answers."

"But you're--"

"Fallible," Janus interrupted. "As are we all."

"Except you, right?" Virgil said.

"When have I ever said that?" Janus demanded.

"It's obvious! You don't have to say it. Every time you come waltzing into one of our discussions, you just bring it with you."

Patton sighed and sat back in his chair. He couldn't fix it. Everything he said and did was wrong . Everyone was at odds, and it seemed they all wanted Patton on their side.

He stared at the legal pad and thought, seemingly out of nowhere, of the Judgement of King Solomon. "We'll do it half and half," he said.

"What?" said Janus.

"Virgil decided that Thomas won't listen to music when he goes for a walk. Janus gets to decide whether Thomas puts his phone on 'do not disturb.' Virgil gets the next decision. And so on."

"Fine," Virgil said. "He's going to have salad for lunch."

"And then he's going to take a long shower and sing as loud as he wants without worrying if anyone can hear him."

"Fine, but then he's going to watch true crime videos and start working on a strategy for what he would do if he ever ends up getting interrogated by the police."

"He's watching cat videos afterward to cheer himself up."

Patton sighed, seeing that they had forgotten about the legal pad, and started writing.

The plan they settled on was a lazy one. If Thomas stuck to it, he would ultimately accomplish nothing with his day. But Logan wasn't there and Roman wasn't there, and Patton barely had the will to advocate for himself . He just wasn't strong enough.

He wondered, briefly, if there was some way he could split himself up, and give a little bit of support to Roman, to Logan, to Virgil. They really seemed to need it, and it had to be hurting them that Patton wasn't there. And the rest of him, whatever was left, could seek comfort in Janus and his total lack of expectations. What else was he supposed to do?

"That's a wrap," Janus said, pulling Patton out of his morbid fantasies.

"Good job, you two," Patton said, and the praise sounded hollow even to his own ears. "Great teamwork."

"Don't get used to it," Virgil said.

Janus stood, sending his chair rolling back until it bounced off the wall. "I'll be going, then. Virgil, it was a pleasure ."

"Wait!" Patton yelped, suddenly panicked. "I wanted-- I…" He faltered and looked at Virgil, who was watching them closely. "I want to talk to you."

"I'm not gonna leave you alone with him," Virgil said, and Patton wasn't sure whether Virgil was addressing him or Janus.

"It's okay, Virgil," Patton said.

Virgil shook his head, and Patton's heart dropped when he noticed that Virgil was shaking a little, his breaths coming shallow (but thankfully, even). "It's not okay. He's dangerous, and I… I couldn't protect Roman. I couldn't protect Logan. I can't let him get you, too."

Patton thanked all the stars in the sky that Janus had the good sense to keep his mouth shut and not wind Virgil up when he was clearly upset. "It's okay, kiddo. That's a lot of pressure to put on yourself. And… I know you don't trust Janus, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

"I-- I guess so." Virgil bit his lip, looking like he wanted to say something else. He dropped his voice to a murmur, so much that Patton had to lean in to be able to hear him. "I just want to help. I spent so long causing problems; I just want--" he sighed "--to be good."

"You are good, kiddo," Patton said, reaching out slowly. Virgil didn't flinch or shake his head, so Patton put his hand on Virgil's knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. "But if you really want to help out, maybe you can go try to cheer up Roman? I haven't had much luck with him, but he might listen to you."

Virgil nodded. "Are you sure you're going to be okay? I'm never gonna forgive myself if Janus hurts you."

"Ah, your ol' pop star will be just fine," Patton said. "Better than fine! I'll be gay-OK."

Virgil didn't smile, exactly, but the corners of his eyes crinkled a little and that was good enough for Patton. "Alright. I trust you." With one final dirty look over Patton's shoulder, he stood and sank out.

Patton turned around slowly, suddenly nervous. Part of him knew it didn't make sense. Logan had created this space; he and Janus were on neutral ground here.

"Parley?" Janus asked from the far end of the table. He had summoned up a chessboard and was evidently playing a game against himself.

"If we're gonna parley, should we do it in a par- lor ?" Patton joked, chuckling weakly.

Janus' smile was crooked and Patton couldn't tell if it was sincere. "You're absolutely right." He vanished the chessboard with a wave of his hand and stood up. "Follow me."

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #moceit #spicywrites #spicywrites intertwined

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thevampiresiren · 4 years

Text

Helping Yoongi Shave

Word Count: 2.5K

Genre: Fluff, Humor

WARNINGS: Soft!Yoongi, Tooth Aching Fluff, Cursing, Slight Suggestive Themes (nothing major, just some suggestive flirting and a little talk of sex. Yoongi also puts his hands on the reader's butt)

Summary: Yoongi needs to shave, but he's too tired to do it himself. So he teaches you how to shave him.

A/n: So… This is the very first Fanfic that I wrote and I’m not going to lie; I was a very nervous about posting it until one of my friends read it for me and loved it. I’m not sure if I’ll be doing this stuff as a part of my blog ALL the time, but if I can think of anything and if it comes out good; I’ll definitely post it. Also I just REALLY wanted to do a Yoongi shaving fanfic because I think helping your significant other shave is SO intimate and involves a lot of trust. I hope you guys like it!

I was passed out on the couch in the living room when I woke up to the sound of keys jingling outside the apartment door. As Holly got up from laying next to my feet, I picked up my phone and saw that it was around 1:30 am. As the door opened, I heard the brown toy poodle bark happily while he was spanning around in a circle while footsteps stopped to where he was. "Shhh, Holly. You're gonna wake Mom up." My boyfriend whispered petting the fluffy canine.

"Too late, she's awake." I yawned while stretching with a smile on my face. Yoongi looked up from petting Holly.

"I'm sorry, Jagiya. I thought you were in bed." Yoongi said while taking his shoes off, setting his work bag down, and walking over to me. I smiled as he tilted my chin up to gently peck my lips. When he pulled away, he laughed loudly. "What?" I asked.

"Nice bed head, babe". He said smirking while nodding at me. I ran my my finger through hair and sighed. "Hey, don't be upset. It's cute." He said standing up and kissing my check. I felt a slight roughness on my skin once he made contact. I look at his upper lip and chin, smirking.

"Nice stubble, babe." I copied. He touched his face and groaned. "Don't be upset. Its cute." I mocked. Yoongi smiled.

"I'm gonna go get changed. I'm too tired to shave tonight." He said yawning while walking to our bedroom. Holly and I followed not far behind and he laid down in his little bed starting to doze off again knowing his dad was home. I walked in and saw that Yoongi had put his glasses on and changed into his black sweatpants that hung loosly on his hips and was topless. He was by no means the buffest man in world, nor did he have majorly defined abs; but he was toned enough that you could see his pecs, and when the light hit right at the correct angel; his faint abs from him most recently working out would show up. He was perfect. His arm muscles slightly moved as he threw his clothes into hamper. I was too busy admiring him before he broke me from trance. "You okay over there? If I didn't know any better I'd get the feeling you're checking me out." He said with a cocky smirk. I smiled and pushed myself off the door frame I was leaning on.

"Nah, I think your hideous and by no means attractive. And you do it to me all the time." I said jokingly.

"Your loud noises from me pinning you down two nights ago and those dark marks say otherwise, baby girl". He said smirking. I blushed while trying to cover the "love marks" on my neck and where my shoulders met.

"Shut up and let me enjoy my hot boyfriend's body when we aren't fucking." I said laughing. Yoongi let out chuckle before he went off to the master bathroom to brush his teeth. I changed out of my day clothes into nothing but his white Fear of God shirt that hit my mid thighs and put my hair in a high ponytail.

"Aish! Its so fucking bad" Yoongi groaned loudly. I looked in and saw him examining his facial hair, clearly upset with how fast it was growing. "Yoon, just shave it tomorrow before you go to work. You need sleep." I said walking over to him. I knew he was beyong exhausted by how irritated he sounded and by the slight bags under his eyes. It was comeback season and I knew he was over working himself a bit. He was eating healthy and was taking care of himself like he has been, but I still worried about him. "I can't, we have an interview in the morning and we have dance practice. Plus, I need to finish up a song in the home studio once I wake up." He said leaning his head against the mirror pouting; his raven bangs falling and covering his eyes. I wrapped my arms around his bare torso and leaned my cheek on his broad shoulder making him shiver at the contact. "What if I do it for you?" I said quietly.

"My work?"

"No, dumbass." I said pulling away laughing while he turned around. "I mean shave your face." I said poking his chubby cheeks and kissing his pout.

"You sure you're not to tired to do that for me?"

"I wouldn't be offering if I was."

"Yes you would, because I'd do it too for you."

"I've already gotten at least 4 hours of sleep. You've been up since 6 am. I have more energy and I don't want you stressing out over it. Let me do it, baby. Let me take care of you." I said seriously.

"God, I can't wait to make you my wife." He said sighing. I laughed loudly "Who said I would say yes if your proposed?".

"We've talked about it and you were weak at the knees when I told you I would give you as many kids as you want and I would find a way to make it work for you, the kids, and music. Plus, you let me take your v-card. You've already said yes based on that like I did." Yoongi said laughing.

I blushed. "Just go get your damn razor and everything else." I said crossing my arms over my chest. Yoongi turned around and opened the medicine cabinet to pull out his shaving cream, aftershave, and the black leather case that he kept his razor in. He set everything in front of the sink and scooted out of the way for me to work. I opened up the case and saw exactly what type of razor it was. Anxiety shivered through my body as I pulled the razor out carefully. I just came to the realization that I had never actually SEEN his razor. He usually was using it on tour or even over at the dorm with the rest of the guys. Whenever he did shave here, it was in the shower.

"Yoongs..."

"Yeah?"

"This is a straight razor...". I said quietly.

"I know. It gets closer to my skin and the shave lasts longer. It works better for me than a normal one.". I carefully opened the blade far away from either of us at the risk of us getting cut. I stared at it and my anxiety just continued to grow. These were dangerous and I'd never used one before.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Yoongi said looking at me concerned while reaching out and gently rubbing my shoulder.

"I'm scared I'm going to pull a Thomas Brown Hewitt and slit your throat while I shave you. I can't afford a lawsuit as big as you." I said casually as I carefully set the razor down after I slowly put the blade back. Yoongi busted out laughing loudly at my comment.

"You'll do fine, Kitten." He said calmly after he collected himself. "I'll show you how to use it on yourself first if that'll make you more comfortable.". I thought for a moment and nodded my head agreeing. Yoongi grabbed the shaving cream and turned the water on so it was hot but not scolding. "Fuck." Yoongi said looking down, his deep raspy voice just slightly about a whisper as he just noticed what I was wearing. I smirked at him with a face that said "really?" .

"Sorry, you just look really fucking cute." He said blushing. Yoongi showed me how to put the cream on my legs which was no different than I normally do. He then grabbed the razor, instructing me to put my hand where his was. He lightly wrapped his large hand around my wrist, and started.

"Okay, so the trick is to go with the grain of hair; never against it. It can cause bumps and ingrown hairs. Also keep your hand at a 30-degree angle. Anything more will cut yourself. Make sure the skin is always taught as well. And go slow and gentle. Like this.". Yoongi began helping me shave where my ankle was and guiding me with the right amount of pressure. After a few more strokes of him helping me, I had enough confidence to do it on my own. It wasn't as hard or scary as I thought. After 20 minutes, I had both of my legs shaved and set the blade down on the sink. I ran my hands down my legs and noticed how smoother my legs were. I had no cuts, bumps, or anything like I normally would. "I DID IT YOONGI! I DIDN'T KILL MYSELF!". I yelled extremely happy that I didn't have to go to the ER, wrapping my arms around Yoongi's neck . He laughed at how excited I was.

"I told you that you could do it. Are you ready to try it on me now?" He said picking the blade back up. I smiled and told him to sit down on the counter of the bathroom sink. Once he was sat down and his glasses were off, I put the water on and shaving cream on his face. Just when I had turned to grab the razor; I felt a large warm hand on my wrist. "Um.. wait a second."

While I went to look over at Yoongi; I felt a soft, light, pressure on my left cheek followed by a muffled sound. I looked between my face and part of my hair covered in white, to Yoongi's right hand also covered in white and the right side of his face showing his skin underneath. It took me a second to get over my shock before I began processing what had just happened. "MIN YOONGI." I yelled, waking Holly up, making him barm from the disturbance of his sleep before going back to bed. Yoongi busted out in a full-on laugh attack causing him to almost fall off the sink before catching himself. As I washed the shaving cream off of me, I looked annoyed but also amused at him being playful. "I want a divorce already." I said laughing with him. Once we both settled down and Yoongi had his face covered in shaving cream again; I grabbed the razor and was about to start shaving him when my anxiety started getting the better of my again. Yoongi sensed my anxiety sparking and grabbed my hand that wasn't holding the razor.

"Hey." Yoongi said while he looked up at me lovingly, running his long fingers over mine soothingly. "I trust you okay. I know you won't hurt me." He said before kissing my knuckles, careful not to get the shaving cream on my hand. I nodded smiling and slowly started shaving him. Several minutes in shaving him, while I was concentrating, I felt Yoongi's hands reach behind me to my upper thighs, pulling me closer. He gently started rubbing soothing circles on them and messaging my ass.

"Keep it PG, Min. I have weapon and I'm not afraid to use it." I said jokingly making him chuckle.

"You know what you in my clothes do to me." He said with a tired smirk. His dark lashes hit his cheekbones as he relaxed under my touch. I smiled at a how serene he looked, and it took everything in me not to kiss him. Once I was done, I rubbed my nose against his causing him to open one eye and smile. I grabbed the washcloth and gently cleaned whatever was left of his shaving gel. I grabbed his Invictus aftershave and put some on his face.

"Okay, I'm think done." I said proud of myself. Yoongi put his glasses back on and grabbed the handheld mirror I had held out to him and examined his face closely. A huge smile hit his lips and he wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders and pulled me to his broad chest. "You did amazing Jagi. Thank you." He said as he muzzled his face into my neck.

"You're welcome, Yoons." I said tiredly as I ran my fingers through his soft locks, laying my head on top of his. The faint smell of his aftershave along with the smell of him in general hitting my nose made me feel tired as I gently messaged his head. Yoongi hummed quietly into my neck before placing chaste lazy kissing to my neck, chest, below my ear lobe, cheeks, temple, nose, and finally my lips.

"I love soft, cuddly Yoongi." I said giggling. Yoongi looked at me with a soft smile, our noses touching.

"I thought you loved rough, dominate Yoongi?" He said rubbing our noses together.

"Ehh, I like all sides. I'm an easy woman to please." I said looking at him smiling before telling him it was time for us to go to bed. He yawned while nodding and we headed to our bed, setting his glasses down on the nightstand. He pulled me close, so my head was laying on his chest and placed his hand on the side of my face. Our centimeters away from each other he smiled and looked into my eyes with his full of love, care, warmth, and passion. "I love you so much, Jagi." He said tired while stroking my cheek bone. I leaned it connected my lips to his in a sweet but passionate kiss. We both pulled away with giant smiles on our faces. I responded looking tiredly into his eyes. "I love you too, Yoongi.". I layed my head on my pillow, my face buried in his neck breathing in his scent while he buried his in my hair, arms wrapped tightly around me. "I can't believe you smashed me in the face with shaving cream." I said quietly.

"That's what you get for staring at me and then parading around our bedroom in my shirt and your lace panties you brat.". He responded letting out and airy chuckle. I smiled before closing my eyes and falling asleep to his light breathing.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #bts yoongi #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfction

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zutaraangtastic · 4 years

Note

Could you do a little drabble about zuko and aang sharing dreams? maybe that is how zuko’s relationship with aang and katara starts, like it is what sparks it all :)

Also inspired by this post by @vomara! (Reminder that we are not accepting new prompts; we received these before July 1.) - Mod J

The moonlight pools in a pale circle on the dark water, perfectly still until Aang lands. His light footsteps cast ripples outwards as he spins Katara for an extra few beats in the air. Her eyes are squeezed shut with laughter as he guides her down gently, but she opens them, a gleam of mischief in their blue depths, and takes the lead as soon as she finds solid footing.

Aang gladly follows, letting her twirl him out to the end of her arm’s length and bring him back in. They sway together for an easy, quiet moment, with his back to her front and her smile pressed to his shoulder. He feels secure, wrapped up in her embrace, as he always does.

It’s a dream he has often, dancing on the sea with her—it’s one he never tires of. In the back of his mind, he knows she’s sleeping peacefully right next to him, so it’s not like it’s coming from a place of unfulfilled desire, as far as he can tell. They dance together all the time in their home, at fancy Republic City functions, at the Fire Lord’s galas. It’s just nice to steal away this extra secret time with her between night and day.

Even if it’s not quite the same as in real life, his mind does a pretty good job of conjuring Katara in a sleek sky-blue dress that tapers down one leg, her shoulders bare and her hair cascading in waves down her back. She’s utterly enchanting.

She dips him low, and Aang raises a hand to her cheek, his heart so full of love he feels like he could drown in it. “Baby, you’re my moon and stars,” he whispers, watching for the way the corners of her eyes crinkle with a smile as she leans in to kiss him. His own eyes flutter shut.

Something changes at that moment, heats up on his skin, brightens against his face. He doesn’t think much of it until he peeks his right eye open just a crack and gets a close-up look at an unmistakable scar—closer than he’s ever seen it in real life, close enough to see rivulets of pale tissue and faint pockets between rough scarlet ridges.

“Uh,” says Zuko.

“Um,” says Aang.

Neither of them moves. Around them, the scenery has turned to a soul-baringly sunny day, the water glittering beneath their feet. Zuko’s hands are where Katara’s were, one supporting Aang’s backwards lean and one resting high up on his thigh, Aang’s other knee raised up to frame Zuko’s side. Golden light, reflecting off the pool, dazzles in Zuko’s wide eyes, which soften little by little with something like gratitude.

Finally, he breaks the stillness of the moment with a somewhat dismayed laugh, letting go of the breath he seemed to be holding. Aang could almost swear he catches a sharp firewhiskey aftertaste brushing warmly over his lips. It’s an oddly specific detail, for a dream.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Zuko says, his mouth curving in a rare, secretive smile. “You’re just the person I wanted to see tonight.”

Something about it rubs against the grain in Aang’s mind, doesn’t quite add up the way it should, but he finds himself laughing, too, settling with ease into the firm hold that shifts to his waist. His own arms naturally find their way to wrap behind Zuko’s neck.

“You’re a lot smoother when I’m asleep, sifu hotman,” he remarks, and if Zuko’s brow furrows momentarily, he doesn’t really think twice about it after Zuko quickly twirls him a few times, catches him again by the hand and shoulder and steps with him in perfect sync.

Briefly, in the back of his mind, he wonders about Katara, but she wasn’t really here, and neither is Zuko. Even if his keen gaze makes Aang feel just as flustered as it does in real life, when he judges Aang’s firebending forms to “keep him sharp.” Even if the hand gliding up his side through the open slit of his robe makes him feel as hot as the sun.

He loves Katara. If he could love Zuko, too, he would—or, well, he already does, he thinks, but what difference does it make? All he knows is the real Zuko is sleeping soundly on the other side of the world. This can’t do any harm.

A little bit of sparring seems to blend naturally into their exchange. Instead of breaking apart to do the full Dancing Dragon, they stay close, trailing rainbow fire from their footsteps and trading precarious kicks around each other’s knees, legs crossing back and forth over one another as they move to and fro. The water doesn’t sizzle when their bending makes contact with it but splashes up into crystallized leaves of amber flame, scattering in their wake.

Aang ends up in the lead at some point, supporting Zuko’s weight in a high lift and a descending spin, their orange and red robes catching with a friction that might as well make a spark of its own. Several long strands of hair have strayed from Zuko’s topknot, falling messily around his face, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. There’s a simmering, unwavering intensity in his eyes now, never leaving Aang’s face. Aang flings him this way and that, dips him low and whispers, grinning, “Baby, you’re my sun and stars.”

Zuko smirks invitingly, only to backflip over Aang’s bracing arm before Aang can act further. He lands easily, links his hand with Aang’s again and steps in close and fast to snap one leg up around Aang’s hip. They lean together, an unbroken line of contact from chest to thighs, breathing heavily. The shared hallucination of rhythm and music fades, and the utter brightness of the sky, too.

The closeness is so tempting, would make it so easy to kiss Zuko, but Aang decides to let his subconscious decide whether Zuko might make the first move instead.

“I didn’t know you could dance like that,” he says, with just a teasing note of accusation.

Zuko snorts, rolls his eyes with a distinctly affectionate exasperation reserved for Aang alone. Unthinkingly, Aang reaches to brush the loose hair back behind Zuko’s ear. His hand lingers gingerly against Zuko’s scar, warm, real, solid. Zuko doesn’t flinch away. Aang expects this dreamed image to melt away at any minute, but it doesn’t.

Before he loses the nerve, he blurts, “I didn’t know you would ever want to. With me.”

At that, Zuko chuckles, a self-deprecating sound edged with hopelessness that makes Aang’s heart clench. He closes his eyes and says, seemingly more to himself than Aang, “I knew this was all just stupid wishful thinking. That’s what happens, going to bed after too much to drink. Stupid.”

His eyelashes paint delicate, spidery shadows towards the arch of his cheek, shining damply, and his eyebrow digs down into a tense furrow. Aang doesn’t know what to do. This doesn’t make sense anymore—everything was going so well, and he thought that at least in a dream he might get a happy ending. He can’t put his finger on what went wrong.

Lost, he bends his head slightly to press his lips to Zuko’s forehead, as the last golden light is swallowed up in the gray dawn all around them.

When Aang blinks slowly awake, the morning sky through the window is the first thing he sees, the first rays of sun stretching up into the receding blue. Katara is snoring gently, facing him, with her hair spilling over half her face. Aang lifts her sleep-heavy hand and works his fingers between hers, bringing her knuckles to his lips to kiss them softly.

He doesn’t know how long he lies awake there, watching the sun turn the clouds a rosy orange. Normally, he would get up and find somewhere to meditate. But he feels reluctant to leave Katara’s side this morning.

He stays long enough that she wakes up, though he’s sure she’ll doze off again soon enough. She squints at him with a reflexive, familiar smile and rasps, her voice rough with sleep, “What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Like what?”

“The way you always did when you thought I wasn’t watching you, back then.”

Aang laughs, and Katara does too, their breath stirring together between. “I can’t help it. I just love you.”

“Mm.” Katara scoots closer, snuggling her head under Aang’s chin and draping her arm over him. “Something’s on your mind, though. You always looked at me like that, all in love, ’cause you didn’t know how to tell me yet.”

Aang falls quiet. Reading the tension in him, Katara raises her hand to rub his upper arm gently, expectantly.

“I had a dream,” he says eventually. “About you…and Zuko.”

Katara leans back to look at him sharply. “Sweetie, you know you can’t let the tabloids get to you like that. I love you,” she says, with just a hint of scolding in her voice. “Zuko’s just a good friend.”

Aang opens his mouth, then closes it. “Yeah,” he says, pushing down the regret in it. “He is a good friend.”

He can’t explain this to her, can’t ask her to understand something that might very well tear them apart. And that dream, as weird and real as it was…there’s just no way that Zuko feels like that, too.

When Katara eventually does slip back into sleep, Aang kisses the crown of her head, carefully disentangles himself, and wanders down to the seashore to practice his firebending forms.

#zutaraang #kataang #zukaang #zutaraangdrabblechallenge #mod j #fic #Anonymous

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squishneedsahero · 3 years

Text

The Crash

Trust and Emotions

Part 1 of 2

Word Count: 3487

I'm on both a starwars and marvel kick so like.... Peter Parker x Reader

So... things weren't going very well. There were many reasons for this but the largest was probably the fact that you were in a malfunctioning escape pod, hurtling across space at close to light speed. How you were going so fast, you had not a single clue though.

Lower on your list of problems, but not much lower, was the fact that you had kind of sort of just run away from the clones. They were your friends, hell you'd practically grown up with them. The war was won and the next moment you and your master were being shot at by the clones you had thought to be friends.

The final of the big three problems on your list was the one that was causing you the most grief. Your master, the one person in the galaxy you were closest too, the closest thing you had to a parent was now dead. They had sacrificed themselves to shove you into this escape pod and make sure you got out alive.

Okay, maybe those weren't your biggest problems, though they were all related. Your biggest problem was that you had no idea how many rotations you'd been stuck in this pod with very little food and water, but even more limited air. It had to have been at least 7 rotations at this point, you'd spend a ton of time trying to fix the pod. More time sleeping and even more crying over your lost master.

You were probably going to die stuck here in this pod, which was an alright way to go you supposed but honestly it's probably more painful than being shot in the face by your friends. At this point most of the air was gone, leaving you fading in and out of sleep as you struggled to survive. Hopefully you'd be asleep when the air finally ran out but with your luck probably not. This was your plan, to die in your sleep as peacefully as possible, but as a Jedi since when did things go to plan?

The pod around you shuddered, a sensation you'd felt a million times, you were entering an atmosphere. The pod slowed significantly from how fast it had been traveling, causing you to slide off the seat and across the floor, into the opposite wall. You struggled to keep yourself awake, but ended up passing out again before you could hit the planet's surface. It was probably good that you did, so you wouldn't have to face your death as you crashed into the ground at terminal velocity.

Once again things don't go as planned. You wake up in what has to be a med bay, attached to machines beeping and making a million other various sounds. You're familiar with med bays, you had ended up in one many a time, you aren't worried until you try to sit up and find yourself strapped to the bed.

The restraints cause instant panic to swell up inside you. Where were you and why did they need to keep you there- In your panic you struggle to free yourself, trying to get a hand free to be able to get out without alerting anyone or anything thing.

"Ma'am," your thoughts are interrupted, not by a medical droid as you had thought but by a person, a tall man with an eyepatch. "I'm afraid you're going to have to stay there until you explain yourself and how you crashed on our planet."

You can only stare at him in shock. What did he mean explain yourself- you couldn't do that, you'd just be killed if they knew you were a Jedi- SHIT- your lightsaber where was it, in your panic you feel for your hip- nothing.

The man notices, "I assume you're looking for this," he holds up your lightsaber, "don't worry we'll give it back to you- we just need to know you aren't a threat first."

He was holding your lightsaber and had no idea what it was or who you are. This calmed your nerves some, but you still couldn't bring yourself to tell him everything, so you start with a name, "my name is y/n l/n. What's yours?" You ask, possibly using the force to get him to answer easier.

"Nicholas Fury, you can just call me Fury." He pauses before continuing, "so, y/n why are you here?"

You pause, staring at him confused, how dense was this guy- "I crashed here, wherever here is," you answer shortly, trying to keep your patience with his questioning. You needed to know where you were before you tried to get out of here.

"This is earth, in the case you really do not know. How is it you crashed here?"

"I..." you pause deciding how much of the truth to tell.

"I suggest you tell the truth. Things will go much smoother for all of us that way."

"I was in a malfunctioning escape pod. Couldn't control it. In fact I was about to die from lack of air when I entered earth's atmosphere." The man stares at you, judging what you had shared, then he just- leaves the room the door closing behind him and he doesn't even say goodbye.

Once again you felt anger racing through you and you forced yourself to relax. Strong emotions were not the way of the Jedi. You let your head flop back onto the pillow and you close your eyes. You didn't need to rush, you'd figure out how to get out eventually, you weren't in any immediate danger.

You must have fallen asleep yet again as you lay there because you jump awake at the sound of your door opening and people entering. "She says her name is y/n l/n, female, human and about 17 years old. As far as we can tell she is not a threat but feel it would be best if you all kept an eye on her while she finished recovering from her injuries received in the crash."

You sit your head up and look to the voices. It was that Fury man once again, but this time he had three other people with him, two men and one woman. That's when he turns back to face you, "ah, you're awake very good. This is Steve, Tony and Natasha, they will be keeping an eye on you while you recover along with some others."

You wanted to protest you were fine, but somehow you thought that would be fruitless so you just nod and look at the three. They were strong, probably hard to escape from, but you'd escaped worse. Granted those were all with the aid of your master, this time you were on your own. That was fine, you'd take your time with it unless there was any sign of real danger from them.

"Do I have to stay restrained on this bed or can I be let go?" At their suspicious looks you come up with an excuse, "I was nearly dead when I crashed, that was before the impact. I have no idea how long I've been here, but I'd like to stretch my legs before they disappear."

Fury looks at the three and they seem to shrug, though Steve nods, "she hasn't done anything for you to be suspicious of has she? I mean besides being an unknown who crashed on earth."

"Not yet," Fury says begrudgingly before moving over to loosen the restraints an let you up.

You ignore the hand offered in help, sliding off the bed and carefully steadying yourself. Your legs were weak, but you could manage to hold yourself up. You look once again at the adults, feeling as though you were surrounded by the Jedi council. "So, what were you talking about? With them watching me while I recover?"

"They have a large secure place you can stay as you finish recovering. You have yet to do anything to prove that you need to be kept in a cell, but you also have yet to prove you aren't a danger so you'll be watched," Fury explains.

You nod, you could live with that. "One thing- could I have," you pause, unsure what to call it, "the thing you showed me the last time you came in that you took from me?"

Fury nods, but hands your lightsaber over to Tony, "we've yet to figure out what this is but it's obviously important to her. You take a look at it, and you decide when she gets it back."

Later that rotation you arrive on the landing platform of a tall building. "This is Avengers tower," the one named Tony says, "you'll be staying in here with us until Fury decides otherwise."

"Alright," you purse your lips and shrug your shoulders. This was fine, the place was similar to many places in Coruscant, though this also seemed to be the high tech place on this planet. That was fine, it was similar enough to the temple that you were comfortable in the room that you were shown too.

"We will have dinner in an hour and you can meet the others then," you can only nod as the door closes behind you. How long an hour is and what dinner was eluded you but you would try and be there on time.

It seemed you finally had a moment to yourself so you found a comfortable spot on the floor to meditate. You get settled and begin to get in the zone when there is a knock on your door. "Come in," you call as you stand and go to open the door for the visitor.

To your surprise it's a young man close to your own age, "uh- hi," he offers a smile, "I'm Peter, Mr.Stark said you'd be staying here and that you were close to my age... so he thought I could help you adjust a bit since I'm his intern and am here a lot."

You look at him, quietly and using the force to poke and prod, figuring out that he had no ill intentions even if he had some sort of secret. "Very well," you say and move aside so he can enter your room.

He comes in and hesitates before taking a seat on the edge of your bed. "So, where are you from? All they told me was they you were from out of town."

You go and take a seat on the bed near him, deciding it would be harmless to answer his questions even if he's reporting back to Fury. You tell him the name of the planet you were born on and he tries to figure out where that is until you finally just have to explain that it's another planet all together.

"Wait- so you're an alien?! That's awesome! How's you get here? Are you like the Asgardians where you look human but have super strength and magical powers?"

You're bombarded with questions and you only answer some of them, "I suppose you could call me an alien." "What is an Asgardian?" And so forth.

Despite him asking most of the questions you're able to learn quite a bit from him. And even though you don't really trust anyone here you feel that Peter is the most trustworthy, freely offering you information in exchange for information. Your conversation is interrupted sooner than you'd like with a knock on the door and Steve sticking his head in to let you both know it's time for dinner.

Your brow furrowed in confusion for the millionth time but you get up and follow Steve and Peter to whatever this dinner was. It was food. And good food at that, not the normal military rations you'd get stuck with on missions or the simple food they served at the temple.

You take the seat next to Peter's and look at the other adults you hadn't met yet. They were all wary of you but that was fine. They introduce themselves, Thor, Clint, Bruce, Wanda and Vision. Six men, and three women including yourself.

This was everyone, Clint, Natasha, Steve and Thor posed the most obvious threat to you. Wanda seemed to just be a normal civilian who was here for some reason, as did Tony and Bruce. But Tony had to be a threat of some sort considering he was one of the three sent to get you. Bruce on the other hand if anything seemed scared of you and that was alright.

"Hey Mr.Stark, is y/n going to school while she stays with you guys?" Peter speaks up.

"No kid, y/n will just be staying here. I'm assuming that you've figured out that we don't know who she is or where she's from considering that Steve found you in her room just now," Tony says.

Peter's face reddens and he stutters for a response, "you're the- the one who told me to go talk to her!"

Clint joins in, "wow, Pete, you're already sneaking into her room? Tsk tsk I expected more of you."

Whatever the hell they're on about eludes you so you continue eating as they banter. "So- y/n," Natasha interrupts, "seeing as you don't have any clothes with you, Wanda, Vision and I will be taking you shopping tomorrow to get you something to wear other than that ill fitting SHIELD uniform they gave you."

You looked down realizing for the first time what it was you were wearing. All black just a long sleeve shirt and pants, it wasn't bad but it wasn't what you liked. "Okay," you respond, it would be nice to get a better look around this place called earth.

The next day goes smoothly, the three help you find clothes that will allow you to blend in, jeans and tshirts and shorts. They were all brightly colored, hardly any greys and nothing brown, and just a few black items. When you had spotted a robe in one of the stores and grabbed it they let you, saying something about Tony paying for it and if it'll help them get on your good side.

That light grey robe becomes your constant companion. They are surprised when you wear it absolutely everywhere and over any of your outfits, you had a strange sense of style but it was fine it wasn't like you left the tower.

When what they call a month passes you realize that you had only gotten closer to Peter, not any closer to escaping this place. But overall it wasn't bad, no clones had shown up to hunt you down and the others living there seemed to be the protectors of this planet, similar to the Jedi over the galaxy. So you were actually kind of content, despite being restless after exploring every inch of the tower with Peter.

Sure they had tons of books and other scripts to read, but you were used to always going never stopping. Now you were stuck, not even able to train thanks to Tony still holding your lightsaber hostage somewhere.

Other than that it was fine though, Peter had asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him, some form of entertainment. Seeing as you had nothing better to do you accepted. As he showed you how to make popcorn and got to the television room he was blabbering on and on about what was apparently his favorite movie series. It was something called Starwars and he was so excited to show it to you sure that you would love it.

A New Hope is the first that you start with and it held your attention from the moment it started. Peter doesn't think anything of your fixated silence, thinking you to just be enjoying the movie. At least until you stand up when something familiar comes on screen. "What is this?!" You demand almost angrily.

"What's what?" Peter asks, nearly terrified as you glowered at him.

"That!" You point once again at the screen, more specifically the lightsaber.

"It's a lightsaber-"

A million things rush through your mind and you grasp the sides of your head, "how do you know about lightsabers?! We are no where near Coruscant and only the Jedi can have them! How do you have record of them here- here on earth?"

Peter is flabbergasted by your outburst, normally quiet, almost stoic, here you were shouting at him over a movie. A movie you claimed to have never seen before and yet here you were knowing stuff about the prequels when he'd started you on Episode 4.

"I- I- I don't know what you're talking about y/n it's just a movie! I thought you hadn't seen them before?!"

It's at this long you relax enough to realize how scared he truly is and you calm yourself down. You look at him and he truly is clueless as to what you're on about. You take a breath and calm yourself before taking his hand, "we need to talk, somewhere private-"

He grabs onto that, you calming down and just talking it out with him, "follow me," he says taking you along by the hand to a closet, one of the few spaces in the tower without a camera. Once the two of you are in there you're standing nearly nose to nose and Peter's face reddens yet again at being close to you, why he did that you didn't know and right now you didn't care. "What are you talking about y/n?"

You take a breath, "those movies- how do you have them? All that information about the Jedi and the Sith- Tatooine and R2 droids-"

You could keep going but he cuts you off, "it's all made up y/n, a guy named George Lucas, he made up those stories they aren't real. He went and made some movies for fun, that's all those are, stories, made up stories."

You throw your hands up in the air, you'd gone backwards in your progress of not showing emotion since being here, "Peter- no, you don't understand- those things, they aren't made up." You pause and grab his shoulders, looking in his eyes, "I'm a Jedi- I'm a padawan. That's why I haven't told any of you anything about me. The clones killed my master while they saved me. They shoved me into an escape pod and launched it- it malfunctioned and I crashed here then I've been here ever sense. But somehow you know about the Jedi and lightsabers and think it's all made up-"

You finally let go of him and let yourself fall to the floor, grasping your head. This was madness. What in all the known systems is a movie and how is there one having all the secrets of the Jedi on a planet that doesn't know you even truly exist.

You're snapped out of it when Peter kneels in front of you and takes your hands so you stop pulling at your hair. "Okay, okay- we can figure this out y/n, we'll go and talk to Tony, figure out why you think all of this is real."

As soon as he mentions Tony you're crawling away from him, muttering, "no no no no no no no no," as you struggle to get the door open.

"Y/n, it's okay I promise, trust me- no one here wants to hurt you, let's figure this out together-" he tries to stop you in your panic. But nothing he says helps, it's only when he does something, something that shocks you out of it that you stop to listen to him.

His hands cup your cheeks and his lips crash against yours. You don't respond for a moment, until you pull away and look at him in shock. What was that? You think but no, you can't get distracted by strange earth customs.

You relax and close your eyes, when Peter tries to remove his hands from your cheeks you hold them there with your own. It's a minute before you open your eyes and look at Peter again, "okay... we can figure this out..." you say gently, "I just- not the others- not yet. I'm still not sure I can trust them... but you- I feel safe with you," you admit.

Peter's face reddens again but he nods, slowly removing his hands from your cheeks to wrap you in a hug. You can't help but lean into it, putting your arms around him in return, "we'll figure it out. Just us, no Tony, no one else, promise."

For as long as you don't let go of him he doesn't let go of you. But eventually you do move, you don't know what it is but there's something different about Peter, something different from any other life form you had met. The two of you move together, getting up from the floor of the storage closet, then go back to your room.

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winzenni · 4 years

Text

butterfly (nakamoto yuta)

Summary: when your secret tattoo is discovered and you're scolded during dance practice, the nice Japanese boy group trainee can't help but interfere.

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

Pairing: trainee!yuta x trainee!reader

Word count: 1.9k

Author’s note: trigger warning! unwanted touching? also, we all know that yuta respects women af so i thought this would just be something he’s probably done

“and uh 5, 6, 7, 8.”

“smoother movements, people.”

“y/n, you’re late on the third count.

“one more time from the top.”

“y/n, fix your left arm.”

“last time from the top.”

It was just another day in the practice room, preparing for your next dance evaluation, but today’s practice felt a little harder than usual. Maybe it was the fact that it was over ninety degrees outside (a typical summer day in Korea), or the fact that you were wearing a fairly thick T-shirt with long sweats that were made for chilly weather.

When you woke up from your nap two hours earlier, you had completely forgotten about the group dance practice scheduled in ten minutes, and grabbed whatever clothes you saw first in your closet before dashing to the practice room, where your trainee friends were already warming up with the teacher.

“Ok, 10-minute break. Get some water and come back ready to clean up your moves.” said the instructor, Mr. Kim.

The trainees scattered from the center of the room, with some girls leaving to stop by the water fountain, some guys grabbing a towel to wipe their sweat, and some just plopping down on the floor to catch their breath.

“It’s so hot, Jiwoo. I think I might faint from heat exhaustion,” you tell your friends. Like you, Jiwoo has been training under SM for the past two years. Though make and female trainees were often divided during the training process, today, all trainees, both male and female, were learning the same hip-hop routine for the monthly evaluation.

“It's not that hot though? Maybe it's because you're wearing fleece sweats. Y/n, you really are going to pass out if you keep wearing that. I have extra shorts that you can wear.” Jiwoo pulls out a pair of black athletic shorts from her duffel bag and hands them to you.

“Really? Oh my god, Jiwoo, I don't know what I would do without you.” You take them from her, standing up. “I'll be back, I'm going to go change.”

The shorts definitely helped with the heat, but Jiwoo’s size and proportions were a little off from yours. She was a little shorter than you, which made the shorts barely reach halfway to your knee, yet the shorts were a little loose around your thighs, allowing the fabric to fly up each time you squatted or jumped. Nevertheless, it was better to show some skin than pass out from heat exhaustion.

Still, you didn't want the male trainees to see anything that you didn't want them to. And in particular, you didn't want anyone to see the tattoo on your inner thigh.

Not only were tattoos considered ugly and immature, but they were also a nuisance to makeup artists and stylists. Just knowing that you had an inked design on your body would make you less eligible to debut.

So to prevent the shorts from rising up and revealing your tattoo, you put less energy into the jumps, but this compromised the appearance of the performance.

“Ok, everyone stop,” said Mr. Kim. “Y/n, why are you jumping like a half dead frog? At this part, everyone needs to jump up like a spring, a slinky! You're a rusty wire right now, fix it.”

“Sorry, Mr. Kim. I’ll do better.”

In the next rounds of dancing, you decided to put your all into it, fearing a scolding from the teacher. Hopefully, no one would pay attention to you enough to notice what was under your shorts.

“From the top to the second jump,” Mr. Kim ordered.

1-2-3-4, 5-6-7-jump. 1-2-3-4, 5-6-7-jump. You counted in your head, focusing on only the dance and your movements.

1-2-3-4, 5-6-7-jump. 1-2-3-4, 5-6-7-jump. In this moment, you only noticed yourself, your swaying motions, your posture, your expressions.

1-2-3-4, 5-6-7-jump. 1-2-

“STOP!” Mr. Kim roared.

Everyone's eyes widened, unsure if they were the ones going to be scolded. At this point, it had been a longer practice than usual, and as practice dragged on, Mr. Kim’s mood and tolerance dwindled exponentially.

“Y/n. Step up.”

Your heart suddenly began pounding a mile a minute. What did you do wrong? You could have sworn your movements were perfect. You stepped forward from the grid formation, to the front of the class with your back facing them. In the mirror, you saw your fearful face in front of all the other trainee’s wide eyes and pitiful stares.

“Y/n. What is this?” Mr. Kim pointed to your right inner thigh, right where the fabric of the shorts ended and revealed a black mark on your skin. “Lift up your shorts.”

With shaking fingers, you slightly pull up the edge of the shorts to reveal a small inked butterfly on your thigh, just a few inches wide. In your peripheral vision, you could see the other trainees, sending looks of surprise? shock? confusion? to each other.

“Y/n……” the edge of Mr. Kim’s lips slid upward, almost laughing in your face to mock you. “You've been messing up all day and now this. You really continue to surprise me.”

He pulled up the edge of the shorts once more to get a glimpse of your tattoo, his foreign touch on your thigh making you flinch.

“If you're going to be a rebellious bitch and get a tattoo, at least make it creative!” He laughed. “A butterfly?”

At this point, you looked down at your feet in the mirror’s reflection, too embarrassed to face how the other trainees were looking at you. You blinked quickly to prevent any tears from falling. Would you have to get the tattoo removed to keep training? Or worse, would you maybe even be kicked out? Having a tattoo was one thing, but you had been causing some trouble during today's practice with your mistakes.

Mr. Kim’s scolding continued in the back of your mind, but you tuned it out with the clouded thoughts of what might happen to you. You were brought back to the current situation when Mr. Kim’s hands pulled up your shorts again to see the tattoo, this time a little too high, revealing a sliver of your black underwear. You took a step back.

“Hey!” A new body appeared in your field of vision, pushing away Mr. Kim’s hand and stepping in between you and the teacher with his y'all figure.

“M-mr. Kim,” you started.

“Hah, look at this-this,” Mr. Kim didn't know where to start with cursing you. “Y/n, you're dismissed. Leave now. Yuta, get out of my way and go back to your position.”

It took a minute for you to process Mr. Kim’s words. Dismissed from practice? Dismissed from the monthly evaluation? Dismissed from the training you had put the past two years of your life into and given up academics and friends and good food for? With all these thoughts in your mind, you couldn't help but let some tears slide down your cheek as you left the room and went into the hallway. You couldn't even hear the roaring voice of another teenager behind you.

“You can't touch her like that! That's not-"

Sitting in an empty recording room, you couldn’t help but let the tears run down your face.

You had worked so hard for so long to get to where you were, and you might have just lost it all because of a stupid butterfly tattoo you thought would be cute a year ago. In your head, you could only hear the sound of your own crying and the troublesome thoughts plaguing your mind.

A boy sat next beside you. Looking at you through his straight blond bangs, he says, “Sorry about what happened to you back there. That wasn't cool at all.”

You try to even your breathing and control your tears for a moment to respond. “Thanks, but it wasn't your fault so you don't need to apologize. Why are you here? Aren't you going to get in trouble for leaving practice?”

“Well, I just didn't think it was fair for you to be treated like that back there,” the boy says, looking down at his feet. “I-I wanted to see if you were ok. Oh, and I'm Yuta by the way. Nakamoto Yuta. Nice to meet you.” He offers a hand to shake, and you grasp it weakly to give it a friendly shake.

“I'm y/n,” you say in an almost silent whisper. “You should go back. One dismissed trainee is enough.”

“No, I'll stay here until you stop crying,” Yuta declares firmly. “I-I just really think it was so unfair for you to go through that. It's so dumb, like honestly, it's just a tattoo! It's no different from… from me wearing this earring or choosing to have blond hair!” He says, readjusting the beanie around his bangs.

After a moment of silence and looking down at your shoes, your sweaty legs and tired ankles, Yuta gently breaks the silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if it will be burdensome to release your tensions and worries into this stranger you've just met today. However, his aura radiates a warm, welcoming feeling, like a close friend you've reunited with after a long time.

“I just… I just did so much to get here. I don’t think I can live with myself if this is what gets me kicked out.” Your mind reverts back to flashbacks of all the meals you skipped, tears you cried, hours you danced, and sleepless nights you had dedicated to your journey to debut. To throw that all to waste over sweating a little too hard and changing pants at dance practice -- it would be a burden you would not be able to live with.

Coming to terms with the tragic future you’ve set up for yourself, a tear slips from your eye down onto your shoes, not going unnoticed by Yuta.

“Hey, hey, y/n, look at me,” he says.

You look up to him from under your tear-stained eyelashes, meeting his honey-like gaze.

“You’re not going to get kicked out. It’s gonna be ok,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and squeezing it comfortingly before sharply retracting his arm.

“S-sorry, I… is it ok if I put my arm here?” He asks.

You nod, leaning into his touch and putting your head on his shoulder.

You sit together for a while like that, without exchanging any words. Though he doesn’t say anything besides softly rubbing circles into your shoulder, Yuta’s mere presence and the warmth radiating from his body brings you a sense of consolation.

“I think it’s cute,” Yuta says, after what feels like ten or fifteen minutes of silence.

“Hm?” you say.

“The butterfly,” he explains. “I think it’s cute. Don’t listen to what others say about it. I think it’s really cute.”

“Thanks. It’s supposed to represent, like, hope and endurance,” you say. “I got it a few months into training because it was a difficult time for me. So whenever I mess up, I just look at it and think about…. I guess, I remind myself to keep going.”

Yuta nods, processing the symbolism of it and how much it must’ve meant to you. “I’ll be your butterfly,” he chimes in quietly.

“Huh?”

“You’re going to keep training here with me. I’m not going to let you quit now.”

Though his words sound motivational, you wonder, what power does he have over this? Well, whatever happens, you’re glad you were able to make a new friend. Little do you know that Yuta’s father has some... connections with the company.

#yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta scenarios #yuta au #yuta x reader #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct hurt/comfort #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 hurt/comfort #nct 127 fic #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 x reader

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 4 years

Text

When He’s Sick

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: sick!dean (it’s a thing, trust me), man flu (most women in relationships, also maybe some gay men would know the constant struggles when their man is sick the ‘man flu’ (usually it’s a cold)), mentions of depression, mentions of panic attacks, fluffiness

Word Count: 2,466

a/n: was reading @supernatural-jackles preference list, the title is same as her preference when the boys are sick. Here’s my imagination running wild when I should be preparing to post 7 Days to Die. But, Dammit Jen’s so good, plus, Jen, I hope this is okay...I never talked ahead of time with you about it, this happened spontaneously....I guess read and let me know if it’s all good. If not I’ll remove it.

They had been in the town for a number of days. Hunt finished, long finished. But it turns out, someone, somewhere, somehow, the boys got sick with a nasty virus.

Sam was the first down and out. Not throwing up, but heating up with a fever. But his gut feeling like he isn’t going to last. Even if he ate something light on his stomach.

Y/N offered a small variety of foods to the giant. Saltines, applesauce, banana, toast, mashed potatoes, soup, anything light. But he turned it down.

She heard retching in the bathroom. That leaves with the older Winchester. Now when he’s sick, he’s sick. Really sick. Hearing him lose the contents of last night’s supper told her he wasn’t going to be able to keep anything solid down. At least not heavy. But they need to eat something.

He came out after washing up, pale as a ghost. If not dead already. It worried her, seeing how pale he was.

“Any leads on Dick?” He asks, words slurred. A garbled burp escaped. Only to turn into another throw up session. When he felt something coming up, he turned at his heel to make it to the toilet.

It had been weeks since Bobby’s death, Dean was running himself ragged finding Dick. Both him and Sam both wanted revenge. But at least, Sam knows when to stop to sleep and eat. But Dean, has one speed. Go.

She could only shake her head. He needs to take a break.

“You are in no condition to keep this up Dean.” She says from the door.

“Rain or shine, I’m hunting Dick.” He says. He hears her snort. “Oh grow up.” he groans as another wave hit him. Only making him groan louder, unable to throw up.

She took the time to head out to grab some supplies for them before they leave to head to the hunters cabin where they hid out, but also primarily lived.

Grabbing canned soups, broth, and even grabbed a thing of potatoes to mash up. She had weird, not so traditional ways of getting nourishment when sick but also something to be easy on the stomach.

Driving back she heads to their room. Sam still in bed, sound asleep. She hears a moan from the kitchen. To find Dean on the floor.

“Dean!” she says, concerned. Dropping the groceries on the table before rushing over to help him up.

“I’m fine.” He slurs.

“You’re not fine, you’re on the kitchen floor for no reason.” She says, helping him up.

She could feel the muscles in his arms trembling, they were fatigued.

“The floor moved on me.” He mumbles.

As she struggles to get him up right, she had his back at her chest, so his head fell back on her shoulder. He was out of it. But she wraps an arm around to touch his forehead.

“Dean, you’re burning up. We need to cool you off.” She says. Pushing him up to his feet.

“Seriously, I’m fine.” He continues.

He’s up, but knees weak nearly gave out. She has his arm around her shoulder as she practically dragged him to his bed. When his but landed on the side of the bed he didn’t stop the rest of his body to fall onto the bed with a significant bounce.

“No you’re not. You got something, you and Sam both. You threw up, and are running a fever. You need to stop and rest. It’s not gonna kill you.” She says.

He didn’t have the energy to fight her. He doesn’t even fight her when she takes his boots off. Undressing him down to his t-shirt and boxers, tucking him in bed under a thin layer of sheets.

I’m gonna have to play nurse. She thought.

Pulling the thermometer out on the boys. Sam rang a temperature in the hundreds, but it was easily manageable.

“102, just rest up Sam, ‘kay?” she says.

Sam nods. “No problem, this sucks.” He groans.

“I’m making some soup and mashed potatoes. It’s cream of chicken and veggie soup. What’s best is you could also put some of the soup on the potatoes.” She suggests.

“Sounds good, my stomach has calmed down some, so I’ll try some.” He says.

“That’s good.” She says.

“How’s Dean?” he asked.

“His fever is nearing 104, he ate a few saltines before taking the fever reducer. He’ll try to throw up, but it just turns into dry heaves, I can tell they hurt. Whatever he got, it’s worse than what you have.” She says.

“If he gets worse?” he asks.

“He might need to go to the hospital then. For all I know it’s just the flu.” She says.

“The flu can get bad though.” Sam goes.

“In kids and the immunocompromised. And the elderly…And the uninsured…” she listed.

Sam chuckled. “It’s so sad how it’s preventable, but the government makes it a fucking hassle to just take care of your own health.” He says.

“And they die as the end result, because the meds they need or the care they need are too much for them, and they can’t get them. It’s wrong on so many levels. It’s like they’re bullies stealing our lunch money, they’re holding it out of reach and we’re too short to grab it.” she says.

“That’s what I was thinking of saying. But I’m not thinking straight.” He says.

“It’s the fever. Rest up Sammy. I’ll tell the caretaker we’re staying until you two are a little better. At least better enough for the road trip back to the cabin.” She suggests.

“I know I could, him I’m worried about.” Sam says. She nods, agreeing.

She was only able to get them the room for a couple of more hours before they had to move out. Sam was able to eat her soup and potatoes, Dean not so much. The smell of the food made him gag.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I just made it look like your food smells awful, and it don’t. it smells amazing, my stomach is just in knots.” Dean whines, rolling on his side in his bed.

“It’s okay Dean, I know. I could tell you wanted to try but your stomach is making it rough. I’ll just pack it up in some topper wear and I’ll pack us up and drive us back.” She says.

“Um, no, you’re not driving my car.” Dean says, trying to get up. Only to dry heave while getting up, lurching forward, nothing coming up.

“Dean, you’re in no condition. Neither is Sam. I couldn’t get us to stay longer. You’re just going to have to deal with it.” she says. “I’ll help you out to the car when we’re ready.” She says.

The drive was smoother than it could have been. Dean passed out in the back seat; Sam curled up in his usual sleeping position when it came to sitting in the passenger seat.

She didn’t like driving older vehicles. They drove like boats, and this was worse, it was a truck. The year wasn’t that far off, but it was old enough. The four door truck had comfy, inviting seats that took Sam and Dean into dreamland in the instant they got comfortable.

She managed to get the cabin just fine, unpacking without jostling them awake. She got their beds ready with cleaner sheets, Sam was easy to wake up. He was eager to get into a bed. Dean was reluctant, already cozy and relaxed he was content with sleeping in the truck.

“Dean, you can’t stay in here. You’ll make your fever worse.” She says, nudging him awake more.

“Fine.” He mumbles, sitting up sluggishly. Shoulders slumped.

“Come on Dean, I’ll help you.” She says.

“I can walk myself.” He snaps. He’s grumpy.

She snapped her hand away from him, letting him walk himself. But kept to herself after that. But it didn’t really stop her from checking in on him.

Cleaning the cabin she put on her phone her music she’d sing to while doing such chores. Grew up on country music she listened to some old Keith Urban Music, from his albums Defy Gravity, Love, Pain and the Whole Crazy thing, and Be Here, she dusted singing along to Standin’ Right in Front of You.

“Y/N, please stop singing! I’m trying to sleep!” she heard Dean shout from his room.

Feeling guilty, she just hummed the song as she cleaned. She felt bad for a minute, the feeling sticking with her throughout her cleaning.

She cooked up more soup for the boys, cleaned, and once done she just jammed out on the couch with the TV on Spanish Soap Operas. Trying to shake the guilt feeling she had early, as it crept back up on her.

That night, after the boys ate and got situated for bed, one Winchester had something on his mind.

She was watching cable television, surfing here and there trying to get away from Spanish Soaps, but always finding her way back when finding nothing else on. She heard the floor creak behind her.

Her headphones were off, music off, just relaxing watching TV, she turned to see the older Winchester standing adjacent of the couch. Looking exhausted.

“You’re not coming to bed?” he asked. Voice still rough from being sick.

“I’m not tired. Besides, you need the bed. You’re still sick.” She says softly.

“You’ve been cleaning all day, taking care of me and Sam, you’ve got to be exhausted.” He says, something off about his tone.

“Dean, it’s fine. Just go back to bed, rest.” She says kindly.

He doesn’t say anything to that, but sits on the couch with her.

“Do you even like Spanish Soap Operas?” he asks, hiding a chuckle.

“I don’t like Soap Operas period.” She says. “But we got only cable TV, and it’s 2 in the morning. There’s nothing on.” She says.

“I’m sensing there’s more going on.” Dean goes.

“Dean, why are you up in the first place?” She asks. “You’re sick, you need to rest to get better.” She adds.

“Well see, there’s this girl. She’s more than a friend to me. I’ve been kind of a dick to her lately.” He says.

“Dean, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have babied you; I should have kept it down when I was cleaning. It’s fine.” She says.

“And I know how sensitive you are, and can be. You love to take care of those you love. I’m the same way.” He says. “I guess I was more mad at myself for getting sick, I was so fixated on finding Dick I even didn’t care how sick I got.” He adds.

“You got a drive in you it’s scary, but it’s fine Dean. You’re only human. You have limitations, we all do. But you got to recognize your physical limitations and give yourself a break, and then get back at it again when you’re better.” She says.

“Back at you sweetheart.” He goes.

“Huh?” she asks.

“You got to know your mental limitations too. I’ve noticed how quiet you’ve been getting since we got sick. Plus, in the past, I’ve seen it happen. Sam mentioned it to me, Bobby knew it. Depression. It’s no joke Y/N. You got to take care of yourself mentally too.” Dean says.

She locks up, her walls going on. And he sees her tense. “And it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. but you can’t bottle it up. You got to deal with it. But you don’t have to do it alone.” He adds.

She nods, fiddling with her fingers.

“What has that demon told you in your head lately?” he asks.

“I’m not doing good enough to care for you or Sam.” She says quietly. Voice beginning to crack. “Stop trying.” She adds.

“You know that’s bull shit right?” he asks. He can see her shake her head.

“You snapped at me, yelled at me to keep it down.” she says. “That’s when it started getting bad.” She adds.

“And now?” he asks.

“It’s saying he’s going to throw you out; he doesn’t want you or your issues. You’re too much for him.” She says. Her throat holding back a sob.

“I’d never do that to you. You’re more than my friend, you’re my girl. I know I haven’t been the best friend lately. But I’m here now. Yes I’m sick, but I want to be there for my girl.” He says. “I’ll kick this demons ass for you, just tell me what you need.” He adds.

“I’m about to have a panic attack, I can feel it come on, can you hold me through it?” she asks, her voice disappearing.

Not saying a word, he invites her in his arms, and the two cuddle on the couch as she cries her eyes out, shakes and trembles, and works to get her breathing under control.

After a while she fallen asleep in the Older Winchester’s arms, when a wooden creak can be heard in the living room.

“How is she holding up?” Sam asks, walking in.

“She’s asleep now, that was a bad attack from the looks of it.” Dean says.

“How are you feeling by the way?” Sam asks.

“Better, but still a little under the weather. You?” He says.

“A bit better. Just a sore throat now.” Sam answers.

“I say we take care of her tomorrow, even if she’s not sick, but she needs us.” Dean says.

“I agree with that.” Sam says. “You up to carrying her or?” He asks.

“Dude, I’m exhausted. And I really don’t want to move her. Just grab us a blanket and some pillows, we’ll crash here.” Dean says with a groan.

“Sure thing.” Sam says with a tired smile. Heading into Dean’s room, grabbing a few blankets, a couple of pillows and heads back to the couch covering them up, and handing Dean the pillows.

“Night Jerk.” Sam goes.

“Night Bitch.” Dean says.

Sun rose high that morning. Dean woke up with, feeling a warm spot on his chest. Seeing her still asleep, not moving from her spot.

Brushing a strand of hair back, his fingers grace over her forehead. His brows furrow when he feels how warm she feels.

She moans, waking up, causing a dry cough.

“Sounds like someone got sick.” Dean says.

“I feel sick too.” She says, her voice rough and scratchy.

“I finally get to return the favor, and take care of you for a change.” He says with a big grin, hugging her close making her giggle.

“I’m loving it so far.” She says hugging him back.

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 10/2/2020

Dean Taglist:

@pandazombie69, @luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl

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jenoptimist · 4 years

Text

he had the personality, looks and kids loved him? the universe was really testing you, huh?

The day you were having was fantastic; the barista gave you three stamps on your loyalty card, the test that you took for your module went smoother than you thought it would, the group project that you had for another module went surprisingly well, and you even found some change on the ground. However as you sat in the diner with your cousin, you had a creeping suspicion that the day you had was to lull you into a false sense of security.

“I think there’s something wrong with my hearing,” you said in disbelief, slowly dropping your cutlery, “because it sounded like you just said that you want me to babysit.”

Yangyang did nothing but smile sweetly at you. “Nope! You heard right!”

You couldn’t believe it. You and kids? Yeah, you guys did not mix. It was as if you and children were the same opposites of a magnet which was a shame because you actually adored kids. You weren’t ready to have your own at the moment so you became a plant parent instead–your succulents were your pride and joy. You had six in total and as sappy as it was, you named each of them after your friends. Although admittedly, you were missing a plant for Kunhang. Not that he knew, of course. Or, well, at least you didn’t think he knew?

You hummed. “Whose kids are they?” Yangyang gave the name of your aunt, the one with triplets and you swore your cousin was trying to get back at you for something. “No. You know how I feel about those kids, Yang! They’re the frickin’ spawns of the Devil!”

Even though the triplets were only four years old, they have caused nothing but trouble for you. Before, you were swayed by their cute little faces but as time went on, you figured that they had some sort of vendetta against you. Other children usually stared blankly at you when you tried to play with them, clearly unamused by your attempts, but those three? They lived to make your life difficult. But to everyone else? They were absolute angels! It was infuriating. What had you done to warrant that behavior from them?

Yangyang winced. “Well,” you arched a brow at him which had him sagging his shoulders, “yeah.” You nodded triumphantly. “But”–you groaned–“please, y/n?” You declined with a shake of your head. Yangyang pouted at you and clasped his hands together, “oh come on, y/n! Please!”

“Nope! There’s nothing you can do to change my mind.” There was absolutely no way you were going to expose yourself to their beady little eyes. “It’s your own fault you said yes.”

The pouting didn’t stop for the next few minutes. When it did, however, there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes that you could idenitfy. It was the look he had when he used drag you in whatever shenanigans he was planning which, more often than not, resulted the two of you getting into trouble.

“I’ll tell Kunhang that you were the one who knitted him that horrible scarf!” Yangyang wasn’t wrong. The scarf was horrible because when you gave it to him, you had only knitted one or two items during a few weeks at that point. The stitches weren’t anywhere near perfect and there was a slight difference in color because the yarn that you originally used was sold out. But even with your awful craftsmanship, Kunhang never said anything bad about it. Instead he said that he was thankful that someone took the time to make it for him. Those words, paired with his angelic smile, was enough to make your heart flutter.

“You wouldn’t.” You said back, narrowing your eyes. All you got was a smirk in return. “Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll do it.” It was hard to fight your smile at his nonstop cheering.

You stood at the driveway of your aunt’s house, gathering the willpower to walk inside and make your presence known. You had spent the whole night mentally preparing yourself but now that you were there, you wanted to book it. You could do this. It was only six hours. What could they possibly do to you in that timespan that they haven’t already?

“Thanks for doing this on such a short notice.” Your aunt said as she moved in a flurry, wrapping her scarf around her neck before shrugging on her coat. The triplets were watching her and you were glad that their attention wasn’t on you yet. That was short lived because as she was hugging her children goodbye, they were watching you like a hawk. You internally cursed at your cousin, typing him a quick text.

from: y/n

to: yang2

you so owe me for this >:(

from: yang2

to: y/n

don’t worry, i already got it covered~

from: y/n

to: yang2

what’s that supposed to mean?????

from: yang2

to: y/n

(>ω^)

You took a moment to pull at face at his response before stuffing your phone back into your pocket. What was he up to now?

“I left some money on the shelf in case you want to order some food,” your aunt informed you as she pulled you into a quick hug. “Thanks again, see you later!”

The sound of the door slamming shut behind you officially sealed your fate. It left you and the triplets staring at each other and you shifted from foot to foot as you thought of something to do to pass the time. When you managed to smile at them awkwardly, your hand going up for a wave, one of them started screaming and ran off. It had a domino effect on the other two and so you were stuck in a house with three screaming children.

You scrambled after them, trying to capture them in your arms and maybe hoist them into the air–kids normally liked that, didn’t they? Unfortunately, they would somehow escape your grasp and blew raspberries at you before running off again. By the time you got them all to sit on the couch to watch a Disney movie, you were extremely exhausted.

When the doorbell rang you groaned, unsure if you could even walk to the door. Your legs felt like jelly and you were sure that if you were to look at yourself in the mirror, your appearance would be haggard. Another ring had you up, eyeing the triplets just in case they made any sudden moves, and made your way to the door.

“Um,” were your eyes deceiving you right now? “Kunhang! Hi!” He was wearing the scarf you knitted which just about covered his entire neck.

“Hey,” he smiled brightly, “sorry I’m late. I had to pick up a few things.”

“Late?”

“Yeah. Yangyang said you wanted my help with the kids?” So this is what that brat meant when he texted you. You didn’t know whether you wanted to yell at him or hug him. Maybe both, in that order.

“Oh, yep! I did. That’s what I said.” You replied with an awkward laugh at the end, stepping aside to let him in. The beautiful smile he was wearing still hadn’t disappeared. In fact, it seemed to grow larger as you led him into the living room where the triplets were, by some miracle, still watching Ice Age.

When the movie ended, Kunhang took the opportunity to introduce himself to them. You watched with a fond smile as they immediately took to him, your thoughts going haywire. Of course the kids liked him. How could they not? The three of them clung onto him and you didn’t know how he managed, but he stood up and started spinning them slowly. They erupted in giggles, excitedly calling out his name.

From there every little thing that Kunhang did with them made your heart melt. The way he paid attention to every single one of them, the way he praised them and his exaggerated reactions that had the kids stumbling in laughter. In turn, the triplets imitated him to get him to laugh and fought for his attention. Kunhang even took to helping them feed themselves, encouraging them enthusiastically and motivating them to finish the entire plate with the promise of ice cream.

The ice cream was a mistake. The children were practically bouncing from wall to wall, leaving havoc in their wake; cushions were thrown in different directions along with their toys. You and Kunhang sent each other twin expressions of horror as they started disappearing up the stairs. By the time they were tucked into bed, Kunhang was looking worse for wear than you were with his hair spewn in different directions and his hoodie had a couple of stains on them.

“We should probably get cleaning.” You suggested, already dreading the mess you were going to face when you stepped downstairs.

Cleaning the house was quicker than you expected. It was probably because you were actually having fun since Kunhang kept making you laugh. By the end of it, the two of you were talking about random things as you collapsed on the sofa. There was a brief period of silence that took over as he leaned his head back to rest on the back of the counch, closing his eyes.

With a soft smile, he murmured, “I hope our kids are as cute as they are.” That had your heart racing as you stared at him incredulously. That had to mean that he had some feelings for you too, right? But as soon as you were about to reply, he seemed to come back to himself. Kunhang shot up from the couch with an awkward laugh. “I mean–! That–! Um.” He groaned loudly, hand rubbing his face.

Again, you couldn’t even begin to respond because your aunt’s voice came from somewhere, announcing her arrival, as she shut the front door. She barely batted an eyelash at Kunhang’s presence, instead thanking the two of you and handed over some cash. She kept talking to the two of you until you exited her house and then a heavy silence blanketed the atmosphere. From the way Kunhang was gripping onto the straps of his backpack, you could tell that he was feeling just as nervous as you were.

“I’ll drive you home.” You nodded mutely at his offer.

How were you going to approach the situation? Clearly he was embarrassed, what with the way he was avoiding your eyes. But he didn’t even give you any time to answer. Knowing him, he was probably thinking that you would reject him or something. Which was entirely false. You have had a crush on him for as long as you could remember and to find out that he was possibly feeling the same? You fought the smile that threatened to creep up on your face. Was him mentioning your imaginary future kids a red flag? Maybe, if you didn’t know him.

After he parked somewhere near your apartment, neither of you made a move to say your goodbyes. Sunflower by Post Malone and Swae Lee was playing loudly until he drastically lowered the volume.

“So,” he started, after clearing his throat. “about, um, what I said earlier.” He trailed off after that, as if he was unsure of what he wanted to say.

“Well,” you said as you felt a surge of courage, powered by the thoughts of Kunhang–about how cute he was, how you have had a crush on him for the longest time and how you had dreamed about telling him how you felt. “You could at least take me on a date first.”

If it were any other circumastance you would have laughed at how his eyes practically popped out of their sockets, his mouth agape. But as it was, you were practically shaking with nerves. All you could hear was the pounding of your heart and your hands were starting to get clammy.

“Date?” The word came out like he was testing it out. “You and me? On a date?” There was a beat of silence and then, “seriously?” You nodded. “Oh wow. That’s– I can’t believe this.”

You gave him a winning smile. “Are you free tomorrow?” Then you frowned slightly. What if he thought that you were too eager? “You know what, how about next week?”

“No! Tomorrow is great! I’m totally free!”

“Great!” The two of you erupted in laughter after a moment of silence. “Well. I guess I better get going.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, sounding dazed. “I guess you should.” You went for a hug and shot him a quick smile after you shut the door of his car.

Just as you were about to walk up the stairs to your apartment, you heard him calling out your name. When you spun around, you found him running up to you with something in his hand that you couldn’t make out.

Kunhang heaved. “Got this for you.” He told you as he bent over to catch his breath, his right arm extending towards you. It was a succulent. A very pretty one at that. “I was gonna give it to you after we left ‘cause I was gonna ask you on a date. But then I said that.”

“I love it.” You took it from his hand gently, staring it at adoringly. “Thank you so much, Kunhang!” Now you had one to name after him. You would put it next to the one you named after Dejun, on the small table next to your bed.

“Now you can have one named after me.”

In your shock, you almost dropped your new plant. “What? How do you know about that?” You didn’t give him time to respond, already knowing the answer. “Yangyang.” You grumbled. When you got your hands on that kid, he was going to get it.

“Yangyang.” Kunhang confirmed, eyes twinkling with amusement. With a quick peck on your cheek, he quickly spun around and sped off to his car. As soon as he drove away, you took out your phone.

from: y/n

to: yang2

you are SO dead

from: yang2

to: y/n

snagged a date though didn’t you? now you can stop telling me about how much you like him ۹⌤_⌤۹

from: y/n

to: yang2

yeah i did but it doesn’t mean that you’ll get away with telling him i didn’t have a plant named after him >:(

from: yang2

to: y/n

ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡

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