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anomanlyarchives · 2 years

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Grindr weirdos

Believe me when I say dating apps can be really dangerous, much more than you may think. I never believed people who told me so, but I learnt this lesson at my own expense.

It all started last Saturday.

I was wandering on Grindr to find some fun. I was home alone and I had nobody to hang out with, so it seemed a good option. I've always been lucky with guys on Grindr, as a single photo of myself convinced them that I was worth a hookup. And I have to admit, I couldn't really blame them.

That day I didn't get any attention from muscular hung guys, though. All I could get was some unwanted message from people I would never even hang out with, let alone hooking up. There was a specific guy, that day, that kept texting me insistently. He was an overweight, thirty-something man, both too fat and too old for my standards.

At first, I tried ignoring him. After all, I was used to this kind of stalkers, and I would normally block them straight away. But, as I was quite bored and I couldn't find anything else to do, I decided to have some fun with him.

"You're a fucking big guy, you know?", I teased.

"Oh yeah? You like it? This belly is waiting for you to feed her 😏". He sent me a bunch of photos of his fat frame squeezed in tight clothes.

I couldn't believe he thought a guy like me could like a being like him.

"I know exactly what I could feed you"

"What? 😜"

I sent him a picture of my body.

He liked me, of course. A lot.

"Well I'm home right now, if you want you can come over 😏"

"For what?"

"To feed me with all that cute, sexy stuff you have there of course"

I giggled. It was my turn.

"What? Oh no, I was just showing off a body you could never have. I should feed you with humility, how can you even imagine I would accept to meet an old chunk like you? You would probably eat me"

"What the fuck man? It's not me the one who needs humility lesson, get over yourself"

"You can't even fit your own clothes, what do you expect? Just buy clothes twice larger, you need them. And stop bothering normal people with your sick kinks. You must be thirty or something, grow up and go work"

"Wtf?? You serious? Okay you may not like me, but it doesn't mean you can treat me like shit. Be more respectful"

"Yeah, sure. You should be grateful I even replied to you. A fat slob like you probably has never seen a dick in his life, these photos are the best thing you will ever get. And I'm being too kind to share them with you"

I sent him all the photos I could find. I wanted to show off my body a little more and make him envious.

My lecture apparently worked. He didn't text me back, and I had spread some awareness about online harrasment. I hate people who think they can do whatever they want, especially if they obviously can't.

I thought it was over like that, as other times. But I was terribly wrong.

The next morning, as I woke up, I had the worst surprise of my life.

Even before I opened my eyes, a strange scent invaded my nostrils. It was some sort of damp, sweet and acrid smell, and it was everywhere in the air.

As I finally open my eyes, I was greeted by an unknown room. A weak sunlight entered through the shutters - even though I had never had shutters. The walls were completely white, opposed to my brightly colored room, and all my posters and frames had disappeared. My led lights had been replaced by a dull, cheap light at the center of the ceiling, which was quite old and could probably fall off at any time soon.

My vision was a bit blurry, so everything felt like a dream. While I was still processing all my surroundings, I heard a somehow loud noise and the room was shaken. It was probably a train passing by.

I was extremely dizzy and confused, to say the least. I felt like I had just been on a roller coaster. But still, I was pretty sure not to be in a dream, and I needed answer.

I groaned and stretched. I felt terribly heavy, and I felt like I was being all squeezed up. It was not a bad feeling, it was almost pleasant. But it was weird. I tossed a little bit, but the feeling didn't go away. I stretched an arm, I moved it to my belly to scratch it, and then... I felt it.

A flaccid, hairy mass of fat was attached to my stomach. It was real, it was breathing. And it was mine, it was part of my body.

I shook in fear, and I quickly looked down. Instead of my tonic, lean body, a pair of bulky moobs and a round belly were bulging out, preventing me to see my own crotch and feet.

That floppy mass was bouncing in response to my own breath. Luckily, I didn't get to see my fat torso completely naked, as a grey t-shirt was trying to cover it - even though it didn't really do well, as it was too small to contain it. Half of my belly was still hanging out of it, covered in a thin layer of hairs.

I was completely astonished. I poked my body to check if it was true. I felt my own finger sinking in the fat. It was... Shocking.

I tried to get up, but my new weight prevented me to do so. My fat made me much heavier, and getting up was a challenge.

When I finally manage to sit, I was completely soaked in sweat. It was the same sweet and acrid smell I had smelled before, and while it wasn't the worst, I really didn't like it. While sitting, I could feel my hefty gut pressed against my thick legs.

I pushed hard to get up on my feet, and almost tripped over myself. Not only was I more than twice my former weight, but I was considerably taller too.

I looked down once again. The bulging gut was still there. I grabbed it tight, as I couldn't believe it was true, and I clumsily wobbled towards a mirror I had just noticed. Every time my large, chunky feet stepped on the ground, I could swear the apartment shook. I felt like a fucking gorilla.

As I arrived in front of the mirror, my heart skipped a bit. A bearded, plump face of a thirty-something year old man was staring back at me. It was the guy I had texted the day before on Grindr, and he was even worse than I remembered. He was wearing a ridiculously tight Grey t-shirt that let a good chunk of flabby gut hanging out, and a pair of equally tight black shorts. Just like me, he was holding his half-naked gut, and just like me, he had a horrified expression depicted on his face.

I got closer to the mirror, still shaking in disbelief, and he did exactly the same.

I shook my round belly, and he mimicked me.

I lifted my Grey t-shirt, and he did it too, revealing a jiggling ball of fat. Disgusted, I immediately pulled the t-shirt down, and so did he.

I curled my arm to strike a pose, and he did it as well, showing off his chubby, but quite thick, biceps.

I did a spin, squeezed my meaty thighs and glutes, and he mimicked me.

My eyes were almost flooding with tears. That was me. I was him. What was going on? It was his fault, there was no other explanation.

I looked around myself, and noticed a phone on the bed. I rushed toward it and fell on the bed with a low tud. For a second, I almost feared the bed would break under my weight.

I unlocked the phone with my fingerprint and quickly opened Grindr. The chat with my former self was still there. And it was online.

"What have you done?", I texted.

I received an answer almost immediately.

"Oh, look who's back! What are you talking about?"

"Stop fucking around. Turn me back to myself, now."

"I don't think you are in a good position to be so aggressive 😜 first take a nice photo for me, then we can discuss"

"I'm not playing. I'm ruining your life."

"Oh yeah? And how? No thing's gonna change until I decide so. Now be nice and send me a photo, I remember I was wearing a very nice outfit yesterday night😁"

I was raging inside, but I couldn't really do much. I looked at myself in the mirror. Because of my anger, I was breathing so deeply that my belly kept jiggling up and down. Disgusting.

I took a photo.

"Woah, are you this fat for real? No wonder you don't get any dick 🤣"

My blood was boiling in rage. How did he dare? "I don't know what you want from me, but I'll give you one more chance. Swap me back and get lost. Now."

"Your clothes don't even fit your fat belly, you should wear your oversized clothes. Or did someone throw them away? 😜"

I rushed towards the wardrobe. It was so difficult to control my movement, as I felt incredibly heavy. I was also considerably taller, which didn't make things better.

I opened the closet. There were only a few clothes, all of which were clearly too small to fit me. The ones I was wearing were probably the largest ones, and still they were so tight it was almost painful. And somehow arousing.

"You are a fucking bastard. You can't do it. If you want to have sex with me, fine, we can, but this is not how things work. You can't always have what you want, and you'll learn it."

"I guess being squeezed by those tight t-shirts makes you soo horny, huh? I can't blame you, I know how it feels. But sadly I know you don't really like me, so it would be unfair to force you in doing something you don't want to 😢 also, I think you are a little too old for me now"

"You're a fucking hypocrite! You're stealing my life without any good reason. Yesterday I just told you what is true, not what you wanted to hear. Even if I hadn't you you're a perverted fatty, you would still be one. I was just honest."

"No, you were completely rude and arrogant. I'm sure spending some time as a "perverted fatty" will help you realize that everyone needs to be respected, even you 😘"

"I'm coming to my place. Let's talk face to face, I guess you're not so brave in person."

"Oh no, don't bother. I'm not there, I knew you would come so I took a nice vacation that will last for... Uhm, I don't know, could be forever. Oh btw I hope you don't mind if I used your money. You know, I had this nice spell that let me access your memories, so I thought it would be nice to now your bank account credentials while I'm you. And don't worry about my bank account, even if you knew my credentials, I don't have rich parents like you, so it wouldn't make any difference. And I also got fired last week, so... Meh 😢 BUT I know there is a very large community of weight gainers and feeders on OnlyFans that could help you earn some money. "

"FUCK YOU! Go die!"

"Ooh, one day I will. I will die in this beautiful body 😍 You, on the other hand, well... I hope your coffin will be big enough 😘"

I felt helpless. "Please, please, swap us back."

"Mhh, I'll see in some days. For now just get used to it. Idk, go eat something, or go shopping for some new clothes... It would be fun to see you walking in the streets with that tight shirt, you know? You could send me a photo 😏 And go take a shower please, I haven't had one since yesterday morning, I can tell you're sweating like a pig from here 🤢"

Before I could even reply, he sent another message.

"I'm switching your phone off for now, bye and good luck xoxo 😘😘"

He couldn't be serious.

I dialed my phone number, but apparently he had really switched my phone off.

I was fucked.

I clumsily stepped in front of the mirror once again. I smelled myself, and he was right, I needed a shower.

Reluctantly, I started taking my clothes off, releasing my chunky frame from all that fabric.

#male tf #male transformation #body swap #Weight gain #male body swap #fit to fat #fat to fit #age progression #age regression #M2m body swap #M2m tf #mine

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

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Title: The Right Direction.

Commission for the lovely @99shadowcat99.

Work Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Yandere!Hawks/Reader

Synopsis: Keigo’s never been one for routine. His life is too hectic, for that, and he just doesn’t have time for a real schedule. But, you do, and he likes that about you. Enough to keep nudging you in the right direction, at least.

TW: Death, Descriptions of Murder, Stalking, Breaking and Entering, Blood, Emotional Manipulation, Financial Manipulation, Gaslighting, Delusional Mindsets, and Unhealthy Dependancy.

It probably didn’t help that he hadn’t been in the best state of mind, when he first found you.

His industry could be stressful, sometimes, and Keigo’d already seen plenty of good heroes fall apart and shatter under the pressure. He tried to take it in stride. He was good at it, too, keeping the sparse remains of his decimated personal life separate from the constantly growing behemoth that was his career. Still, he had his moments of weakness, just like everyone else. Moments of weakness that led him to the threshold of a coworker's bedroom before he found an excuse to leave, to the highest rooftop he could find just to escape the noise of the city below, or in your case, the darkest corner of a well-worn dive bar, his vision blurring and his words slurring together before you saw fit to cut him off with a hand on his shoulder and a concerned smile.

Keigo didn’t have a reason to be as grateful as he was. He’d been drunk, but your call had been a precautious one, your jokes about avoiding a lawsuit from his manager too genuine to be completely disregarded. It’d been human decency to let him sleep it off in your backroom, and he couldn’t call you a saint for not turning him away when he came back the next day, and the night after that, and at least once a week for the month that followed. He was willing to accept that you’d been easy to latch onto. He liked your eyes, the way they crinkled at the edges as you laughed. Your voice was nice, easy on the ears, and he’d never been able to pin down your scent, like flowers and smoke and cheap liquor, all at the same time. It didn’t really matter why, though, and he didn’t like to think about it. He just liked you, a lot.

You were always there, always excatly where he needed you to be, and he appreciated that. He wasn’t going to tell himself there was another reason why he liked you so much. You were where you were supposed to be, always where you were supposed to be, and Keigo was close to loving you for it. Speaking off…

“Hey there, stranger.”

You were always right on time, too.

He pushed himself away from the cement wall just in time to feel you nudge against his side, your shoulder barely colliding with his. He knew your routine, by now. You always worked the closing shift, kicking out the last of your patrons and locking up a few hours after midnight before heading home, you route alresdy permanently engrained in his memory. It wasn’t uncommon for Keigo to wait for you, but you always sent him the same glance over your shoulder, the same teasing grin. You were a creature of habit, and he couldn’t say he minded. “For a busy man, you seem to have an awful lot of time on your hands,” You started, already turning away from him. “Our beloved Hawks doesn’t have any other adoring fans to grace with his presence?”

“None I like as much as you, sweetheart.” He didn’t miss a beat, but he let himself stumble as he followed your lead, earning a laugh and an excuse to hook his arm around your elbow, his hand finding yours soon after. It was a common gesture of affection between the two of you, but Keigo’s heart still beat a little faster, his face flushing and making him thankful for the flickering streetlights. “Let me walk you home,” He went on, if only for the sake of ritual. You’d stopped trying to politely refuse weeks ago, and it’d been months since he’d taken ‘no’ for an answer. “Patrol might be over, but I can still make sure nothing happens to my favorite civilian.”

“Oh, really?” Another mocking tone, a playful squeeze to his hand. You were the one to intertwine your fingers with his, this time, and Keigo forced himself to keep his eyes on the sidewalk. “And what, prey tell, are you afraid the world’s going to throw at me in the block between my bar and the train station?”

It was actually three blocks, three and a half if he counted the range he combed through meticulously every night before meeting you, but Keigo didn’t bother verbalizing the correction. “I’ve seen all kinds of things happen in a block,” He admitted, shrugging, trying to sound casual enough to come off as genuine. “A villain could go on rampage, someone could lose control of their quirk… Hell, a waitress with a vendetta could be burning your bar to the ground, as we speak.”

There was a slight pause, then a humourless chuckle. Just as he’d expected. “It’d be a good night to try. My boss might beat them to it, otherwise.”

Keigo hummed, slowing his pace down as yours began to falter. “I’m guessing there’s trouble in paradise?”

“Nothing I didn’t expect,” You sighed. He recognized your expression, the slight glare, the effortful frown of someone frustrated with their situation, but resigned to the inevitability of it. “I never thought I’d spend the rest of my life working at some sketchy, second-rate bar, I just… We’ve been losing business, and the place is falling apart, and he just seems so... so alright with it. It’s like someone’s paying him to run the place into the ground.”

Someone was. Someone was giving your greasy, gutless, greedy employer enough to last him well into retirement to do just that, to sit back and make sure you wouldn’t have to spend another day serving leering customers with irresponsible coworkers, but you wouldn’t want to hear it from him. You wouldn't understand why he was doing it. It’d break your routine, and you’d be thrown out of your little, familiar world too quickly.

You didn’t need to know, so Keigo didn’t need to tell you.

“It’s not the only sketchy bar in the world,” He tried. “We could always use another warm body at the agency, if you’re interested. Just as something to tide you over, obviously, I… I wouldn’t want to overstep my boundaries.”

Like he’d said, you were a creature of habit. It took you half a second to shake your head, and another to relax, your next sigh one of fondness, rather than irritation. He glanced in your direction just in time to meet your eyes. Just in time to watch your gaze drift over his shoulder, towards the narrow, cramped sidestreet behind him, the one he'd almost been worried you wouldn't reach. Just in time to notice your smile fade, your mouth fall open, and just in time to catch you, as your knees buckled and anything you might’ve said was drowned out by a long, wordless scream.

He might’ve been a little over-zealous, in hindsight. The body would’ve probably been enough on its own, slumped over and bloodied, but she’d been yelling so loudly, thrashing and kicking and fighting long past the point of stubborn futility, and Keigo must’ve lost his temper somewhere between pinning her down and wrapping his hands around her neck. He’d put so much thought into it, too, using a knife rather than one of his feathers and letting her drag herself just far enough to be visible from the sidewalk before serving the killing blow. But, leaving her sprawled across the pavement, the wounds in her back still and the blood still pooling beneath her chest...

It might’ve been overkill. That was on Keigo, but he was sure you'd find a way to forgive him.

“She’s not.” It was short, blunt, straight to the point. You didn’t try to protest, and Keigo took to unlocking his phone. One of his sidekicks should’ve still been on-duty, and he wanted his agency on this before the police could get involved. It’d be easier, that way. Usually, a hero would only be called in after the crime’s already solved and a suspect’s been found, but no one questions the guy trying to solve the case. “But, we’re not going to let the same thing happen to you, alright? Some of my guys are already on their way, and I’m going to find the psycho who did this.”

Still, the carnage served its purpose. He could already feel you going limp, falling against him as you stared at the grisly scene, barely making half an attempt to push him away before digging your nails into his shirt, instead. “That’s… That’s my roommate,” You gasped, your voice shaking, all jagged fear and sudden terror. Momentarily, he wondered if he should’ve been more subtle. “She shouldn’t-- She’s supposed to be at home, I don’t know why she’d--” There was an abrupt pause, a hasty, choked silence. You slumped against him, letting Keigo wrap his arm around your waist, your earlier anxiety gone and replaced with numb, festering shock. You were trembling, by the time you continued, but for whatever reason, Keigo couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty. “I… I should check on her. She might be--”

There was a stilted nod, an uneven breath. “T-thank you, Takami.”

“That’s what I’m here for, right?” He allowed himself a small smile, a light tap to your side. “You’re going to have to stick around for a little while. I’ll try to make it quick, but if that really is your roommate, we’ll have to ask a few questions. Then you’ll be free to head home.”

Keigo could’ve laughed as you went stiff, your relief dissolving as swiftly as it’d appeared. “I… I don’t know if I should….” You were quick to trail off, to avert your eyes as your thoughts turned towards self-preservation. Keigo could already hear sirens in the distance, but he wanted to be selfish for just a little longer. Just a few more seconds, before he went back to being your concerned friend. Just your concerned friend, unfortunately. “Would that be safe?”

Of course not. He’d wrecked the place, breaking every window and decimating every lock, but you didn’t know that yet, so neither did he.

Rather than giving you a reassuring answer, Keigo only pulled away, moving to cup your cheek. “I mean, I should check it out first. That might take all night, though, and there’s something wrong, we’ll be lucky to finish this week,” He explained, watching your expression darken, clouding over with something between blind fear and impending dread. “But, I don’t know if I’d be able to focus with you in some shitty, unguarded hotel, either. And…” He let himself trail off before breaking into a small smile. Not disarming, but soothing. Just softened enough to encourage you to do the same. “You know I always have room for you back at my place. Only if you trust me to take care of you, of course.”

You barely hesitated before falling into him, wrapping your arm around his neck as you buried your face in his chest, words of appreciation mixing with cracked, half-choked sobs. Keigo welcomed it. Why wouldn’t he?

He was your knight in shining armor, your valiant protector. And you were his rock, his routine, the one thing that kept him sane. He deserved a little praise every now and then, didn’t he? And besides, he had to take advantage of his oh-so-heroic image while he could.

He doubted you'll be so grateful, once you find out just how much he’s done to keep you by his side.

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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for @oneiriad, who wanted WN/WWX/LWJ - happy birthday! (also on ao3)

Following the war, Wen Qing had had something of a revelation.

Namely, that the vast majority of problems in her life were due to the fact that she was surrounded by a bunch of idiots.

The first she noticed of it was on the day Wei Wuxian brought back a bow and some arrows to the Burial Mounds.

Her first thought had been to begin to worry, as it always was. Why would Wei Wuxian think that they needed a weapon of war? Were the countless arrays and traps with which he had surrounded their home not sufficient? The corpses he had raided graveyards and battlefield for all set at key position points, the talismans that they had painstakingly drawn in seemingly infinite number, the physical barriers they had erected, were those not enough? What threat did he foresee having arisen that required more than that?

And also – why had he only brought back one?

The answer, it turned out, was that Wei Wuxian, terminal idiot, had not thought of war at all. He hadn’t even thought about hunting, as Wen Qing’s fourth uncle had tentatively suggested, not that there was anything to hunt on the Burial Mounds, dead as it was.

No, Wei Wuxian had seen it being sold at a dirt-cheap price and bought it simply because he thought it’d be fun.

Wen Qing huffed at Wei Wuxian’s extravagance – you could tell he was raised rich, no matter what stories he told; they could have used that money for something practical – but in the end he was their benefactor, and, well, the bow and arrows were pretty fun. Wei Wuxian had been among the most skillful of his generation in archery, and although he was somewhat rusty he had retained the majority of his skill. A-Yuan had been particularly charmed, cheering wildly at every trick shot that Wei Wuxian had pulled out of his repertoire, and he hadn’t been the only one.

Towards the end of the day, when Granny had carted A-Yuan back inside over his protests, reminding him that good little boys who’d been standing in the mud all day needed to wash up before dinner, Wei Wuxian had even drawn Wen Ning into his game.

“- have to try it,” he said coaxingly, even as her brother shifted from side to side in embarrassment, wringing his hands. “As soon as I saw it, I thought of you! Do you remember when we first met?”

“The archery competition,” her brother murmured.

“You were practicing,” Wei Wuxian said with a laugh. “You had it almost right back then – you have no idea how much I wanted to come over to help you fix your stance.”

“It – probably wouldn’t have helped.”

“No, no, it would have! You’d be amazed at how much having the right stance will help – here, let me show you.”

“Wei-gongzi –”

“I insist!”

There was some rearranging, and the next time Wen Qing looked over, Wei Wuxian was standing right beside her brother, one hand on his hip and the other on his arm, gently guiding him into position. The laughter had fallen off his tongue, and he looked intent upon what he was doing.

“You were as skittish and shy as a rabbit back then,” he said. His voice was low, lower than normal – if Wen Qing could see his eyes, she would wager that they were darker than usual, too. His hand did not need to linger at her brother’s hip, but did. “I couldn’t come close or else you’d bolt…but things are different now, aren’t they?”

Her brother shivered as if an usually cold gust of wind had gone by – a gust of wind that, as a fierce corpse, he would not feel.

So that’s how it is, Wen Qing thought to herself. Wen Ning’s infatuation with their benefactor had been obvious from the beginning, when he’d begged so earnestly for her to help with Jiang Cheng; his eyes had been so bright and hopeful that she hadn’t had the heart to remind him that it was pointless to hope. And for his part, Wei Wuxian had tried very hard to revive her brother, far more than bare handful of meetings and a favor done would merit.

Perhaps those long-buried feelings of her brother’s hadn’t been so pointless after all.

Wen Qing forcefully quashed the part of her that wanted to march over and demand that Wei Wuxian make his intentions clear at once (she would accept marriage or nothing for Wen Ning, fierce corpse or not). For one thing, Wei Wuxian was their benefactor – she was in no position to be making demands or threats – and for another, it seemed unnecessary.

They seemed to be doing perfectly fine on their own.

Lan Wangji had come to visit again.

“Is the Lan sect bored of rebuilding, do you think?” she asked Granny, rolling her eyes – it was at least the fifth visit, and Lan Wangji stayed longer every time. “You’d think their second young master would have more work to do; it’s not like Yiling is next door.”

“I don’t think that’s why he’s come to visit,” Granny said. They were doing laundry together, one of the unavoidable daily chores - normally, Granny would be watching a-Yuan, but today he was out for a walk with Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, Wen Ning trailing behind like the faithful shadow he sometimes seemed to wish to become.

Wei Wuxian had very proudly explained in the morning that they were taking A-Yuan on his very first “night-hunt”, never mind that it was the middle of the afternoon, with the sun still high in the sky, or that A-Yuan’s only weapon was a stick he had taken to waving around whenever Lan Wangji practiced his sword forms in the morning and night.

(Wei Wuxian watched as well, hunger in his eyes, and Wen Qing turned away, a bitter taste on her tongue. She would not begrudge Wei Wuxian the grief of his sacrifice, but she sometimes wished he’d acknowledge a little bit more that he was not the only one who had given things up that day.)

“What’s the reason, then?” Wen Qing asked, mind mostly elsewhere – calculating what the other members of the clan would be able to earn today at the market and what would be the best thing to spend it on. They needed new clothing, and A-Yuan new shoes, but they might be able to convince his ‘rich gege’ to cover the shoes and the clothing could be mended a few more times before it truly needed replacing. That would free up enough money for other necessities. “I don’t think he’s still suspicious of Wei-gongzi.”

Granny laughed. “Suspicious isn’t the word I’d use, no. Madly in love? Maybe.”

Wen Qing’s brain returned back to the present conversation so quickly she almost imagined that she could feel her brain hitting her skull from the whiplash.

“What?” she asked, voice sharp. “Hanguang-jun likes – Wei-gongzi?”

“Hadn’t you noticed?”

“But Wei-gongzi…” Wen Qing trailed off, reviewing past events in her mind. The way Wei Wuxian’s eyes lit up whenever Lan Wangji arrived, shouting Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan! – an incredible intimacy, now that she thought about it, about equal to the way with which he addressed Jiang Cheng – and the way they spent time together, walking or talking or just staring into each other’s eyes. The way Lan Wangji paid for everything Wei Wuxian might want (in other words, nothing practical). The way Wei Wuxian would talk about him even when he wasn’t there.

The way the two of them sometimes duetted at night, guqin and dizi matching each other perfectly in the moonlight.

(Wen Ning played a little, too, but the Wen sect hadn’t bothered with anything more than the most perfunctory lessons – no private tutors or anything like that – and he was only all right, not great. Certainly not good enough to keep up with either of those two masters.)

Wen Qing frowned thunderously.

After the “hunting party” returned, she went to find Wen Ning.

“I know you’re grateful to him,” she said plainly the second they were alone. “I am, too. But that doesn’t mean you should let him walk all over you.”

Wen Ning blinked at her. “Walk…what?”

“If Wei-gongzi is two-timing you with Hanguang-jun –”

“Jiejie!” Wen Ning hissed, his hands flying up to cover his face as if he could still blush. “It’s not like that!”

“Isn’t it? Because that’s not what Granny says. She says Hanguang-jun is in love.”

“He is,” Wen Ning said.

Wen Qing frowned, confused. “Wei-gongzi is leading him on, then? I would have thought better of him.”

“You apparently thought he was two-timing me, so clearly your view of him isn’t that good,” Wen Ning said, sounding injured on Wei Wuxian's behalf, because of course he was. “He’s not like that. He’s not – we’re not – it’s not like that. Between us.”

“It isn’t? But he likes you, and I know you like him.” Wen Qing hesitated. “Is it – the fierce corpse thing? We’ve been making a lot of progress on restoring your bodily functions over the past few months. If you’ve been having performance issues, we could prioritize –”

“I have not been having performance issues.” Wen Ning looked like he wanted to die, which was not an uncommon look on his face for their private conversations. For someone who helped out with her surgeries on a regular basis, he was still so very shy sometimes. “It hasn’t come up.”

Wen Qing quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Not what I meant, jiejie. It’s just…Wei-gongzi doesn’t…he’s not very good at understanding his own emotions.”

Wen Qing thought about Jiang Cheng and made a sour face. “No, he’s not.”

“Unless it’s pointed out to him, he won’t even notice that he likes someone,” Wen Ning continued. “Or that – someone likes him.”

“All right,” Wen Qing said, because that did fit her understanding of Wei Wuxian a lot better than either two-timing or leading someone on did. “Fine, then. I assume Hanguang-jun hasn’t said anything, even if only because he’s made of stone, so you’d better be the one to point it out to him.”

“I did. Early today, when we were out.”

“Good,” Wen Qing said. “So where is he?”

“With Hanguang-jun,” Wen Ning said.

“With –” Wen Qing stopped. “A-Ning. What did you point out to Wei-gongzi?”

He shrugged and ducked his head.

“A-Ning! Why? You like him so much…”

“He could have Hanguang-jun,” he pointed out, soft and sad the way her brother too often was. The way he often wasn’t, when Wei Wuxian was smiling at him. “Why would he want me?”

“Mistress Wen,” Lan Wangji said, standing at the door to the cave she was using as a makeshift clinic.

Wen Qing wasn’t sure of what to make of his presence - he’d more or less moved in ever since he and Wei Wuxian had gotten together, but he didn’t often seek out the company of anyone but Wei Wuxian. Least of all her, but then again, she hadn’t been the most welcoming, angry as she still was over Wen Ning’s quiet and unnoticed heartbreak.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, and wasn’t surprised when he shook his head. “Then what can I do for you?”

“Advice,” he said.

Wen Qing mentally sighed, but nodded and gestured for him to come sit down. She’d have to get used to treating him like he was one of the family sometime - he was part of life at the Burial Mounds now, part of Wei Wuxian’s life, and there wasn’t any revisiting that decision.

Also, A-Yuan loved him.

“What’s the problem?” she asked, practical as always.

Lan Wangji didn’t quite meet her eyes, which for him was practically a confession of nervousness. Possibly even embarrassment – was that a hint of pink in his ears?

“Just spit it out,” Wen Qing said with a sigh, outwardly this time. “I’m a doctor. There’s very little I haven’t dealt with before, whether it’s a matter of the human body, the human heart, or the human mind.”

Lan Wangji nodded slowly. “You may know that I cannot currently return to the Cloud Recesses.”

Wen Qing had gathered that certain parts of his family had not been taking his decision to get together with Wei Wuxian especially well, although she’d heard that his brother was fully supportive. Since said brother was the sect leader, he ought to carry the day in the end, but she could definitely understand how the job of convincing the sect that the relationship was acceptable was probably best done with Lan Wangji conveniently elsewhere.

“I understand the awkwardness that this might cause,” he said. “And I have been – trying, recently, to find time to leave the Burial Mounds on my own. Taking night-hunts when I know Wei Ying is busy, or finding an excuse to go into town for the evening…and yet, the last time I went, I discovered that Wei Ying had sent Wen Qionglin to guard my inn for the night.”

“He does that,” Wen Qing agreed, a little mystified. She’d thought Lan Wangji liked to stick to Wei Wuxian like burnt rice to the pot. “Since A-Ning doesn’t need sleep…are you getting bored of Wei-gongzi or something?”

“Certainly not,” Lan Wangji said, sounding a little offended. “It was only that I had gone specifically in order to leave Wei Ying and Wen Qionglin time to be – alone.”

“…why?”

Lan Wangji blinked at her. His ears were definitely red now. “I had not presumed –” He stopped, coughed a little. “I am very grateful that Wei Ying has agreed to be with me, but I would never seek to deprive him of joy by causing trouble in his existing relationship.”

“Existing relationship,” Wen Qing said faintly. “With – A-Ning.”

Lan Wangji nodded. He appeared relieved that they were on the same page.

“Have you…mentioned this goal of yours?” she asked, trying to suppress a hysterical set of giggles. “To Wei-gongzi? Or did you just drop hints? He’s not – I’m not sure if you’ve noticed this, but he’s not great with hints.”

Lan Wangji looked a little long-suffering, something Wen Qing could generally relate to. “I tried to make my position clear earlier today,” he said. “I told him that I knew of the esteem he had for Wen Qionglin, the clear affection between them – the longing with which Wen Qionglin looks at him, the way Wei Ying’s eyes linger on him in return. I told him that I did not have any expectations that he would yield up Wen Qionglin simply for my sake, that I had already accustomed myself to the notion that I would be sharing him…that I truly didn’t mind if he would like to spend some nights in his bed, rather than my own.”

A-Ning doesn’t even have a proper bed, Wen Qing thought, rather irrelevantly. He’d refused to let them waste time building him one when he didn’t really need sleep, anyway; he’d said they could use the time on more necessary tasks.

“And how did he react?” she asked instead.

“Strangely,” Lan Wangji said. “He turned bright red and sought to deny it, but I assured him once again that it was not an issue – if anything, I am grateful to Wen Qionglin for his graciousness in allowing Wei Ying to open his heart to me as well – and for some reason he spluttered a great deal and then ran away. I came to you to see if you could shed some light on…Mistress Wen?”

Wen Qing was clutching onto her face and rocking back and forth, trying to breathe through the intense desire to laugh.

“Lan-er-gongzi,” she choked out. “You are both insightful and wise – wiser than either of them.”

“…Mistress Wen?”

“You’re not wrong,” Wen Qing said. “Wei-gongzi likes my brother rather a lot, and my brother’s been half in love with him since forever. But they’re not actually together.”

Lan Wangji gaped at her.

“I know,” she said. “My brother decided that between him and you, you were more suitable, so he confessed on your behalf instead of his own. I don’t think the notion of sharing ever came up.”

“Oh.”

“And Wei-gongzi is so thick when it comes to matters of emotion that it’s unlikely he even realized what he was missing – at least until you brought it to his attention,” she added dryly. “I hope you meant what you said about being all right with it.”

Wei Wuxian might be slow when it came to figuring out his feelings, but he wasn’t slow when it came to asserting them. He was probably accosting her brother right now, and –

And she wasn’t going to think about that. That’s her baby brother, damnit.

“I am,” Lan Wangji said. “I do not lie. They have a way between them…it would make Wei Ying happy. I want Wei Ying to be happy.”

All right, fine. Wen Qing would reluctantly agree to like Hanguang-jun, him being so reasonable and all.

“Maybe arrange for a selection of different nights?” she suggested. “You can come here and do research with me on the nights when your bed is occupied…A-Ning refused to let us get him one, since he doesn’t sleep. He said it’d be a waste of money.”

Lan Wangji looked appropriately off-put by that. “I could obtain one, if that would be helpful..?”

“Immensely,” Wen Qing assured him. “He has no idea how to turn down gifts – it’d be perfect.”

She paused, considering Lan Wangji. She hadn’t asked before, since it had seemed almost presumptuous, but if he really was going to be staying…

“How much do you know about radishes?”

“Wen Qing! I need help!”

“At least you admit it, Wei-gongzi,” Wen Qing said peacefully. The radish garden was doing so well now that she’d put Lan Wangji to work, she could positively cry. And maybe open up a new field for potatoes the way Wei Wuxian had wanted.

“Admit – hey!” Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes at her. “I come to you for help and you make fun of me?”

“Every time,” she agreed. “What do you want, anyway?”

“I want help, obviously,” he said, and sat down next to her. “I want to convince Lan Zhan and Wen Ning to get together.”

Wen Qing stopped what she was doing, reached up to scrub her ears, and said, “I’m sorry, you want to what?”

“I want to get Lan Zhan and Wen Ning together,” he said, which was what she’d thought he said, except for the fact that it was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard. Surely he didn’t mean – “You know. Romantically.”

Nope. He meant it.

“Not sexually?” she asked, even though that by itself would be a stretch. Lan Wangji and Wen Ning tolerated each other for Wei Wuxian; left to their own devices, they did not spend any time together.

“Well, I mean, sexually would be fun, too,” Wei Wuxian said, his eyes getting all misty like he wasn’t talking about her brother. “They’d be gorgeous together…but no. More than that. I’m tired of this whole bed-hopping, time-sharing thing. I want us all to be together!”

“That’s – a nice thought,” Wen Qing managed to say. “You realize they have nothing in common except you, right?”

“They have plenty in common!” Wei Wuxian argued. “They’re both intelligent and cultured, with a good education – they were both in the Sunshot Campaign –”

On opposite sides. Remember?

“– and, really, Wen Ning’s a whole lot better than I ever was when it comes to rules of all sorts. I bet they could have all sorts of fun discussions about that.”

Sure. Rules. Why not?

Wei Wuxian exhaled gustily and put his chin in his hands. “Nothing I’ve been doing seems to have worked, though,” he complained. “I’ve tried everything…today I even called them both over under the premise of there being an emergency and then left them to solve it themselves.”

“You did what?”

“I wanted them to spend some time together!”

Wei Wuxian was, it was sad to say, a total idiot.

On the other hand, she thought as she looked over his shoulder as two rather irritated looking men stalking their way up the path to the Burial Mounds, both sets of eyes fixed on Wei Wuxian’s back, he had also always been a very lucky idiot.

“Well, maybe they found something to talk about,” she said comfortingly, omitting to mention that the subject of the conversation that seemed most likely was going to be how they would punish Wei Wuxian for his nonsense when they returned.

“You think so?” Wei Wuxian asked, looking hopeful. “It’d be so much nicer if they could just let down their reservations, put down their guards, and just relax –”

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian twisted so fast that Wen Qing was momentarily concerned that he’d pulled something.

“Lan Zhan! Wen Ning!” he said, beaming widely. “How nice to –”

His lips zipped shut.

The infamous Lan sect silencing spell, Wen Qing presumed.

Wen Ning nodded at her in greeting as he came over and picked Wei Wuxian up as if he weighed less than a bag of their radishes, tossing him over his shoulder as if – well, like bag of radishes again.

“Lead the way,” he said to Lan Wangji, who also nodded at Wen Qing, and then the three of them – Lan Wangji, Wen Ning, and a struggling-but-not-really-struggling Wei Wuxian – walked off to the Demon-Slaughtering Cave.

Where, no doubt, they would sit and have tea. With all their clothing firmly on, while maintaining an appropriate distance from each other.

An older sister could only hope.

Wen Qing sighed.

Wei Wuxian was only going to get even more intolerably smug when this was all over.

Really, though. So many problems – entirely because people just couldn’t stop being stupid.

Maybe she could fix the Jiang Cheng situation too, while she was at it.

#mdzs #wen qing #wen ning #wei wuxian #lan wangji #my fic #my fics

313 notes · View notes

meltwonu · 4 years

Text

| caffeine | [chapter 8]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; usage of toys in public, overstimulation, oral(female receiving), anal play, forced orgasms 🥴🥴 we r back everyone! 💕💕 thank you to everyone who’s been so patient since we took a one week break from updates!! 💕💕💕💕 let’s get it!!

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - x - x

Wonwoo gets accepted to go on his archaeology trip next semester which doesn’t surprise you at all but does leave you feeling a little sadder than you anticipated.

And he tells you in the midst of eating you out, hands gripping your thighs as he laps at your clit.

“W--wait, Wonwoo--mmh!”

Your fingers tug on his short hair just as he sucks on your clit; a garbled moan spilling out of your lips as your thighs threaten to clamp shut with his head between them. But he feels you tremble, shooting you a look before he pries your legs open further, holding them still as he continues to eat you out on top of the study table.

“Wuh--wait! So, that m-means you’ll be leaving in like t-two months?” He moans against you, flicking at your clit with the tip of his tongue before he licks his lips clean.

“Yeah, maybe a little bit sooner depending on what prepwork needs to be done.”

“Hmm… ‘m gonna miss you kinda. Maybe just your dick but kinda you too.”

Wonwoo chuckles, adjusting his glasses for a second before he brings his index and middle fingers to his mouth to wet them.

He pops the digits out of his mouth when he deems them wet enough, bringing them to your entrance before he slowly sinks them into you, curling them upward until they tap your g-spot.

“I’m gonna miss your pussy too, sweetheart.”

“Hey, can you put this book down on the third shelf to the right?”

Wonwoo hands you a book to reshelf and you wonder how he even managed to convince you to stick around after he went down on you. Most often than not, it was a quick rendezvous and you or he left. But you think maybe part of you is feeling a little sentimental now that you know he’s going to be gone for a while.

“Right here?”

“Mmhmm.”

The cart of books grows smaller and smaller as the two of you continue to put them away, small idle conversation helping to fill up the otherwise quiet space.

“Any big plans before you leave for, like, three months?” Wonwoo ponders for a second, turning to face you.

“Well, the guys wanted to go to some 21+ beer festival-thing next weekend. You should come with. Maybe you can help me handle them all.” He laughs lightly, a genuine smile plastered on his face when he thinks about the others.

“Are you gonna miss ‘em?” This time Wonwoo scoffs, jokingly rolling his eyes before he walks over to the nearly empty book cart.

“Are you kidding? I’m probably going to have some peace and quiet for the first time in my adult life. I'll be more concerned about having to come back after three months.”

The festival day comes up sooner than you expected; having filled up the time with finishing projects and helping Mingyu not fail his.

You wait in front of the gates, a little uneasy since it was all of SVT House and yourself.

What if someone sees me and thinks I’m the SVT House whore or something, fuck. You panic unnecessarily for a second, wondering if there’s a way for you to escape but you hear Mingyu’s voice calling your name, turning to the side to see the entire group. Too late.

“Hey, ‘Gyu.” You meet him in a hug, Minghao coming soon after until Wonwoo steps in front of you. The others coo at the two of you, jokingly calling you the ‘lovebirds’ before they start walking to the ticketing kiosks, leaving you and Wonwoo alone.

“You know how they are.” “Mm, yeah unfortunately.”

You chuckle, walking with Wonwoo to the ticketing kiosks where he pays for your ticket. “Hey, what the fuck? You never buy us anything!!” The blonde one you’d seen in passing screeches. Soonyoung.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, handing you your ticket which you thank him for. “She’s the only girl here, I’m trying to be a gentleman.” You can’t help but blush at his words, walking with the rest of them through the security check. Mingyu sends you a greasy smirk, just as you quickly flip him off.

All of you get through security with no issues, Seungcheol doing a headcount to make sure everyone’s there before he starts leading the way into the festival grounds. There’s a few amusement park rides thrown in the mix of game booths and alcohol stalls as well and you’re semi-glad it’s a 21+ event only; something was telling you things could get messy.

Wonwoo tugs on your elbow not a second after, curiosity plastered on your face when you turn to face him. “Before we… get started, I have a gift for you.” He smirks, pulling out a small box from his pocket before placing it in the palm of your hands.

You barely open it for a split-second before you quickly put the cover back on, cheeks hot as you stare up at the fox-eyed male. “How the fuck did you get this through security!?” You whisper harshly. He chuckles quietly, pulling the remote from his pocket as he spins the keychain loop around his index finger.

“Dunno, guess sex toys don’t make the sensor go off.”

He tells the others that the two of you were going to head to the restrooms really quick, telling Seungcheol to text him their location while he waits for you.

The blush eats you alive when you slip into a restroom stall, hiking up your dress slightly to pull down your normal panties to replace them with the vibrating panties that Wonwoo had somehow gotten through security. You could already feel yourself getting slightly wet; the thrill of him controlling your orgasms in a public place suddenly extremely hot. And the toy sits directly on your clit, a small shiver running up your spine as you adjust it before gathering your things and leaving. Wonwoo meets you outside, eyebrow quirked as he grins. “Let’s give it a try, hmm?”

The vibrations hit you hard and fast, a choked noise all you can muster in the three seconds he turns it on and off. “Oh, seems like it's working well.”

When the two of you meet up with the rest of the guys, they’re at a game booth trying to win some stuffed animal.

You feel mildly on edge now that you knew Wonwoo could turn the toy on at any second, a cold sweat on your skin as you stand in between Minghao and Wonwoo. “That took you awhile. You guys weren’t… doing anything unsavory were you?” You grit your teeth; Wonwoo having turned on the toy on its lowest level just as Minghao finished asking.

“No? We’re literally here to eat and maybe get a little drunk. Cut me some slack, ‘Hao. When have you ever seen me acting out in public?” Minghao nods slowly at Wonwoo’s words, eyeing you before he clears his throat.

“Ok, I mean… Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

Wonwoo shifts the vibration intensity higher, your legs twitching underneath your dress. You can feel your body tensing up, pussy clenching around nothingness as the toy assaults your clit. “Don’t you have anything to say to defend yourself?” Minghao jokes, jabbing you with his elbow.

“W--what? N-no… I mean, I just, I--I needed to use the restroom. There was a line and y-yeah...” You blabber, hands clenched into fists on your sides. Wonwoo eases up, turning the toy off just as your body slumps forward slightly.

“You okay, though? You seem tired.” Minghao’s voice is filled with worry as he places his hand on your shoulder. “Yeah! I’m good, just slept kinda weird last night so I might seem a ‘lil tired today!” He buys it, thankfully, turning his attention back to the others just as Seungcheol wins the stuffed animal.

“For the sweet lady.”

Seungcheol winks, handing you the small stuffed bear just as Wonwoo sets the vibration to the maximum level, forcing an orgasm out of you in a matter of seconds just as you choke out a small ‘thank you’ towards Seungcheol.

You grit your teeth hard, nails digging into the poor stuffed animal you were gifted. “What’cha gonna name it?” You meet the eyes of Seokmin, a cheery smile on his face. Wonwoo turns the toy off again, a soft chuckle fluttering by.

“I don’t know.”

Thankfully you do manage to have fun; momentarily forgetting about the toy. And Wonwoo seems to forget about it for a bit too, enjoying the drinks as you all stop at stalls to grab different beers to try in between all of your conversations.

One of the younger ones, Seungkwan, suggests getting on one of the rides; queueing up in front of the merry-go-round near-by.

“This is supposed to be, like, a wine and cheese festival but we have beer and children’s rides. Who even came up with this?” Vernon asks, genuinely curious.

“Broke college kids who can’t afford wine and cheese but can afford cheap beer and free rides and need escapism.” Everyone nods sadly at Jeonghan’s words, unfortunately very true.

And much like you expect, the small vibrations come back; Wonwoo having set it on the lowest setting while you all waited in line. “We should go sit and eat for a bit after this. My feet are kinda killing me.” Jun complains, but everyone agrees, deciding to take a little break after the ride to finally eat something.

“Yeah, honestly, I’m full of beer, I need something to eat.” Joshua whines.

Wonwoo turns the vibrations up a level, your thighs rubbing together under your dress as you sneakily shift from one foot to the other. He calls your name loud enough to get the attention of everyone else, their eyes on you as you mentally curse at him.

“What do you feel like eating? We should let you choose.” The others nod, a sly smirk plastered on his features. “Geez hyung, you’re really trying to put on that gentlemanly charm, huh?” Chan teases. You laugh awkwardly, a bead of sweat trickling down your temple as you wipe it away.

Gentleman, my ass.

“I--um, I--I saw a pretzel stall we p-passed by, it se--seems like it’d go well w-with drinks…”

The others agree just as you’re all let onto the merry-go-round, sitting on one of the horses next to Wonwoo. The ride starts soon after; the others laughing and cracking jokes almost immediately as they all sit in front of you. Wonwoo’s eyes glint with mischief when your eyes meet, your hand covering your mouth as you let out a choked cry.

At the angle you’re sitting in, the toy presses harder against your clit and almost like Wonwoo knows that, he sets the toy to the highest level again. And this time, you can’t help but grind against it, thankful that you could mask your movements on the god-forsaken ride. “W-Wonwoo…” You whisper. He barely catches it over the ride’s music, smirking as he only mouths the word ‘cum’ to you.

A shiver runs up your spine when you finally cum this time, toes curling in your sandals as you bite your lip to hold in any noises. You sit up pin straight on your horse, your entire body twitching at your second orgasm. But it doesn’t last long, much like your first one. Wonwoo turns off the toy again, just as the ride starts to come to a stop and you release the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Need some help down, m’lady?” This time it’s Mingyu offering his hand which you shakily take, palm clammy when you place yours in his. “Jesus, are you okay? Why is your palm so sweaty?”

“Yeah, m’fine, I think the beer is getting to me.” He pouts at you, rubbing your back slightly as he ushers your wobbly body off of the ride. “You know what’ll fix that? More beer but also some food, finally.”

You and Mingyu fall into idle conversation; Wonwoo giving you a break that you deserve after forcing two orgasms out of you. And eventually you find the pretzel stall, thankful that there’s empty tables around as you all find a seat.

You sit at a table with Wonwoo by your side, Jihoon and Mingyu sitting on the opposite side.

“We’ll go in pairs or something, so we don’t lose our seats.” You nod at Seungcheol’s suggestion, just thankful you can finally sit and catch your breath. Mingyu and Jihoon get up first, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Having fun, sweetheart?” The tone in Wonwoo’s voice is provoking, your head tilting slightly to look at him and glare. “You’re actually the devil. Gentlemanly, my fucking ass.” You whisper harshly. The stuffed toy in your hands gets squeezed hard again, Wonwoo prying it out from between your iron grip.

“Don’t cuss in front of our child.” He smiles sickly sweet at you, smoothing down the toy’s faux fur before he places it in front of you again.

You’re about to open your mouth to retort but you notice Jihoon coming back, placing food and a cup of beer right in front of you instead. “Hey, uhh, I paid for your food and drink. Hope that’s okay. You seemed tired.” There’s a faint blush on his cheek just as he shyly looks away.

“O-oh. Thank you, Jihoon, that’s really sweet of you…”

“Um, mmhmm, I’m gonna go get my own food, I’ll be back.”

Wonwoo scoffs when Jihoon walks away, plucking the remote from his pocket again. “Isn’t that cute? Everyone’s treating you like a little princess. Doting on you while you cum because of me. So spoiled.”

You blush, choosing to ignore Wonwoo’s words as you focus on eating the food Jihoon had so kindly gotten for you. Eventually the other two come back, leaving Wonwoo to get his own food as he leaves you with them. “Jeez, couldn’t even get me anything, Mingyu?”

“Sorry bro, only one pair of hands!”

The three of you laugh, delving into conversation as the tall male leaves. “Anyway, you guys aren’t dating right?” Mingyu asks. You nod. “We’re not. Why?”

“No reason, just checking in to see if anything’s changed.”

“Since you’re not dating, d’you wanna come to my studio?” You choke on your food, eyes bulging as you stare at Jihoon. “I--what?” He places his food down, taking a sip of his beer before he replies.

“Nothin’ sexual, just could use an outside opinion on some music stuff. We’re all art kids to some degree, y’know? Sometimes I need an outsider’s opinion.”

“But--but what does that have to do with me dating Wonwoo?”

“Nothing really. I just didn’t want to ask just in case he got the wrong idea.” Wonwoo walks back in mid-conversation, setting his things down as he looks at Jihoon. “Wrong idea?”

“I asked her if she’d come to my studio to give me an opinion on music stuff. Nothing major.” Wonwoo glances at you before he takes a sip of his own beer. “Jihoon’s really good at producing. You’d be lucky to hear what he works on. ”

“I’d love to come by whenever!” You smile at Jihoon, hurriedly finishing your food. The other three take their time, discussing various topics just as you see Wonwoo slip his hand towards his pants pocket again. Oh no.

This time he wastes no time, already setting the toy to the middle setting as you try your best to not lurch forward over the table top. Your body is already extremely sensitive from your past orgasms and you find it hard to keep in the noises you so badly want to let out.

“We should go to a few more game booths and then maybe hit up the rides before we leave.” Mingyu says with a mouthful of food. “Mm, yeah, they set up a cool arcade area on the north end of the grounds, we should head over there when the sun goes down.” Wonwoo adds.

You find it incredible that he can sound so normal in this situation and you almost feel jealous. Fucker.

The three continue to chat about the day’s plans just as your orgasm begins to crest quickly, Jihoon’s eyes landing on you when he asks for your opinion. You almost feel bad that you’re cumming while staring Jihoon straight in the eyes but you figure it wasn’t the first time today that had happened anyway.

The wetness between your legs feels horrible when you come down from your high; panties sticking to you like a second skin as you rub your thighs together.

“Yeah, sounds g-good!”

Wonwoo lets up, letting you enjoy the rest of your day in peace for the most part.

The sun eventually goes down and all of you head towards the arcade tent; everyone splitting up to go do their own thing for the time being. You stick with Wonwoo however, walking around quietly and looking at all the arcade cabinets with him.

“Tired yet?”

“Why? Think I can’t keep up with you?” You quip, a little on edge. In truth, you were a little tired. But you also wanted Wonwoo to fuck you already and you weren’t even sure if he’d give in.

“Oh, no, sweetheart. I know you can keep up with me. Just wondering if you were wanting one more orgasm before the night was over.”

Oh.

“Yes.”

You reply before you can even really think, body suddenly on fire at the thought of his hands finally on you. And just like you expect, Wonwoo turns the toy back on, setting it to its lowest level. “Let’s play a game.” He offers, walking you towards one of the zombie shooter games.

“If you win, I’ll fuck you however you want me. If I win, I’ll fuck you however I want you. Deal?” You nod feverishly, not caring about the outcome. If it resulted in him fucking you, there was no real losing. “Okay, sure. Let’s do it.” Wonwoo leaves the toy on as he puts the quarters in the machine, already flying through the intro screen. “I hope you’re ready to lose, sweetheart.”

And lose you do, but you feign disappointment for his sake, setting the fake gun back into its place just as Wonwoo raises the vibration level of the toy. “F--Fuck!” And this time, your voice is drowned out in the crowd of people and arcade noises, small cries and moans spilling from your lips as you lean up against the arcade cabinet. “Pl--please, Wonwoo I can’t w-wait any longer, I don’t care i--if you fuck me here, please!”

Wonwoo laughs, his hand wrapping around your wrist as he drags you out of the arcade tent. “We’ll save that for another time.” He leads you towards the restrooms, although in a much emptier part of the grounds.

“Wait, what if someone… sees us?” He scoffs just as he begins to walk into the restrooms, pulling you in behind him. “Please, this is a 21+ event with booze, I’m sure someone’s fucked in here before we have.” Wonwoo pushes you into one of the stalls, locking it behind him as he fishes for the toy’s remote.

“Let’s get you a little wetter, baby.”

“No~ I’m already so wet, please Wonwoo…” You face one of the restroom walls, pressing your ass against his crotch. His cock is already from what you can feel as you start to grind against him. “Fuck, please, you’re already hard, please just fuck me!” You cry, dropping all of your things to the grimy restroom floor before placing your hands on the wall in front of you.

“I won the game but here you are begging me to do what you want. So so spoiled.” He turns off the toy, placing the remote in his back pocket before he grips the hem of your dress, flipping it up to expose your ass to him.

He helps you slide down your soaked panties, pocketing the material as well before starts undoing his jeans and underwear. “Don’t you want me to eat you out? Get you nice and prepped for my cock?”

“No, fuck, I just want you to fuck me, please! I’m so w-wet I--you could just… slide right in…” The thought alone has you drooling; squirming when you feel the head of his cock sliding through your wet folds.

“What if I wanted to fuck your ‘lil ass, hmm?” You can feel your pussy throb at the prospect. “I--Wonwoo… fuck, I’d let you!” You moan out.

Wonwoo smirks behind you, positioning his cock at your entrance before he slowly eases himself in. “We’ll also save that for another time… But I’ll give you a little taste in a bit.” You groan in response, thanking the heavens when you feel his thick cock inside your pussy. And it takes everything you have to not cum as soon as he bottoms out, cock already prodding at your cervix.

“Ngh, fuck…”

The sound of skin slapping and moans bounce off the restroom walls and you don’t even care if anyone can hear or see what’s going on. But Wonwoo takes his time; slow but hard thrusts that have you whining and clenching hard around him as your body jerks in his hold.

“You were so good for me today. Cumming and not even letting any of them know.” A warm feeling floods your senses at his praise. “And here you are, still taking my cock after you’ve already cum so many times. So good for me, sweetheart.”

You let out a sharp breath when you feel his thumb circling your puckered hole.

“Wonwoo... p-please...” You meet his thrusts, fucking yourself on his cock as he lets a glob of spit land on your hole, his thumb using it as lubrication before he slowly eases in the digit.

“Oh g-god, I--fuck, please, please, please!” You mumble, feeling even more full than you ever were.

“Hah, you’re so cute. Next time we’ll have to use some new toys, hmm? Get all you nice and filled up.”

“Fuck, yes!”

Wonwoo fucks you faster, keeping his thumb in your ass as he chases his orgasm. Your body jolts in his hold, already feeling your own orgasm starting to build as well. “Won--Wonwoo ‘m close already...” You mumble, sensitive body already beginning to slump against the dirty wall.

“Cum with me then, sweetheart.”

You nod shakily, pussy getting tighter around his cock as you feel yourself tipping over the edge. And Wonwoo follows suit, groaning when he cums inside of your pussy, fucking his cum deeper into you as your walls flutter around his cock when you cum with him.

“Fuck, Wonwoo!”

You feel yourself drooling as you cum, eyes clenched shut as the pleasure washes over you. Your orgasm seems to last longer than your previous ones despite how exhausted you feel afterwards, but you’re sure it’s because of Wonwoo and not because of some toy.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

“H--Huh?” You head feels muddled as you turn your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

“I’ve been asking you if you were ok for the past minute. You zoned out.”

“Oh... m’okay... tired...” You whisper out, oversensitivity setting in when he slides his cock from your swollen pussy.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and then I’ll get you some water, okay?”

You can barely stand up straight when you try to exit the restroom stall, Wonwoo offering to piggy-back you back to the arcade tent where everyone else is waiting.

He keeps the vibrating panties but lets you put you regular panties back on.

“I was smart to put ‘em in my bag...” You tell him sleepily, nuzzling into his neck as he carries you.

“You’re lucky you did or else I’d have to put the other one back on.” He grins, re-adjusting you on his back as he sees the others standing in front of the arcade tent.

“Okay, see, now I know you two were up to no good.” Minghao tuts, arms crossed as he looks over your tired form. “God, and here we thought you were one of the good ones, hyung.” Chan adds, dramatically shaking his head as they start walking towards the amusement park rides.

“You might’ve gotten whatever sick thrills you wanted but we still wanna go on the rides so you’re gonna have to come with us now!” Soonyoung screams before running ahead, Wonwoo turning with you still on his back.

“You gonna be okay? Or do you wanna ditch them?” You tighten your grip around his neck, sleepy eyes watching as the others chase Soonyoung.

“I’ll be okay, let’s catch up with them before they lose Soonyoung.”

#fratboy!wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios

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and-it-freezes-me · 3 years

Text

Accidents Happen - Empty

Summary: There is only so much truth one can take before having to do something about it, after all.

Content: swearing, discussions of accidents, alcohol abuse, a slightly less than consensual kiss, brief mention of suicide attempts

Word count: 4,122

{Part 4} {Part 6}

The world had gone; the only thing left was the expression on Janus’ face.

If he had looked vulnerable a moment ago, that was nothing to the raw pain that took up residence in the amber flecks in his hazel eyes, nothing to the shock and hurt that suddenly seemed to drip from the fragile cheekbones and sharp jaw.

This was the expression that had been hiding under every joke and tease over the past month. In that moment, Roman was more sure of that fact than he had ever been of anything in his life. That didn’t stop him from ploughing ahead.

“I… I never hurt Remus.” There was a kind of fervour in Janus’ voice, as though the idea was repugnant to him. He just couldn’t stop lying, could he?

“Don’t lie to me!” Roman’s voice was sharp despite the muddle of guilt and confusion and alcohol clogging his thoughts. Was he really tipsy already? He’d only had a few mouthfuls. “I know you did something. Remus’ scared - he’s terrified of you!”

He was pointing accusingly at Janus, he realised. What must this look like to somebody else? Roman, standing by the rock, furiously jabbing his finger toward Janus - who looked as though he were about to cry. Crocodile tears, Roman thought.

“I didn’t do anything to him! He -” Panic had taken over, lifting Janus’ words almost an octave, and Roman felt a dark kind of satisfaction take over.

“You’re still lying, Janus - I know you did something. I know you did!” He was shouting now, the words racing around the clearing, tearing through him, ripping into Janus. Roman could see him quivering under their ferocity. Good. “I’ve been watchin’ you for weeks now, waiting for you to slip up, but you’re just too good! The lyin’s in your bones - but you’re gonna tell me. You’re going to tell me what you did to -”

“That’s what this has been about?” There was something new in the medley of agony in Janus’ face now. Betrayal. His voice had dropped back to its usual tone, but now there was something under the words, something pulsing. “You - Fuck! You know, Remus warned me that you’d do this, and I didn’t listen because I’m a goddamn idiot!” He laughed harshly, and Roman kept glaring at him. Finally. Finally, after everything he had done, maybe now he would get the truth. “Hell, even Virgil warned me - repeatedly! When you approached me, I thought you might actually want to be friends. All that guilt over ‘what Remus did to me’ -” Janus didn’t gesture, hands gripping the strap of his satchel, but Roman heard the quotation marks in his voice. “- I thought it might turn into friends, maybe even something more! I thought Remus was wrong about you. But he was right, wasn’t he? We’re all just pawns in your stupid game, where you get to run around playing the hero and trampling over everybody else.”

“Stop lying - tell me the truth! You didn’t even know Remus!” Now it was Roman’s voice that was rising in pitch.

Janus laughed again, his face contorted into something resembling a snarl. His cheeks were wet - no, only his unmarked cheek. There were no tears on the burned side. “Didn’t know him? You’re the one that doesn’t know him! Remus is my best fucking friend.”

“Bullshit! He crashed my car tryin’to get rid of you! He’d rather b-”

“He didn’t crash that car - I did!” The words had been a desperate scream, and left a ringing silence in their wake. Janus’ chest was heaving, and a curious calm had settled over Roman. The very trees around them held their breath, leaning in to hear what Janus had to say. “I crashed that fucking car and I almost fucking died, Roman, and you know what Remus did? He - He dragged me out of that burning deathtrap and he called the fucking police on himself to get the ambulance there faster and then he fucking refused to let me take the fucking fall for my own stupid fucking decisions! Are you happy now?” Janus dragged the back of his hand across his face, but any tears he managed to remove were immediately replaced.

“I…” Roman took a stunned step forward, and Janus stumbled back as though Roman were threatening him with a lighter.

“Stay the fuck away from me, you - Just stay away from me.”

Janus kept his eyes on Roman as he backed out of the clearing, but as soon as he was past the treeline he turned his back on Roman and fled.

Are you happy now? Remus had asked him something similar. Happy?

Roman could say, without a shred of doubt, that he had never been less happy.

Actually, he wasn’t sure he had ever been less… Anything. He couldn’t feel happy, not after that. The discovery of the truth at long last had brought no satisfaction - but he didn’t feel sad, either. He had done what he had had to, right? Now he was just… Empty. (Both in a literal and a metaphorical sense - shortly after Janus had left him, Roman’s lunch and the small amount of whiskey he had had had made a reappearance. He was sat by the rock, the puddle of vomit about a metre away from him).

He was shaking, although no tears had come. He didn’t seem to have anything left inside him to expel.

You see people as obstacles in your way, Virgil had said.

You just use me to wipe away the stains, Remus had said.

You just use people as pawns. You just trample all over them, Janus had said.

That couldn’t be completely true. There had to be somebody that Roman hadn’t hurt - but he couldn’t think of anybody.

He had been complaining about how annoying Remus was to Patton just days before Remus had pushed him down those stairs - but that wasn’t his fault, was it? It hadn’t been until over a year later that Patton had stopped talking to him as though they were friends and started treating him as little more than an acquaintance, and even then only when there were other people involved in the conversation. Roman didn’t even know why they had stopped being friends.

He had just fallen out of touch with Virgil. They had been growing up, growing apart, it happened. Maybe he could have done some things better - but now that Roman actually sat down and thought about it, tried to understand, he just remembered trying to cut Virgil out. Why? What had it been?

Oh, yes. Virgil hadn’t fitted in with the group of upperclassmen that Roman had been trying to impress, so Roman had just… But they had just been kids. Just stupid kids. Virgil had forgiven him, right? They still spoke, they were still… Haven’t you hurt me enough? Maybe Virgil hadn’t forgiven him after all.

Logan, then. He’d never… But he had, hadn’t he? Logan had moved to town at the start of highschool, and in their first interaction Roman could remember making three separate jibes at their stiff, unnaturally formal way of speaking. That hadn’t stopped him from getting Logan to tutor him in Calculus, which he had been failing at the time, and then… Never talking to them again. And then there was Wednesday, just three days ago, when he had tried to use them to blackmail Virgil.

And now that Roman thought about it, he couldn’t think of anybody else he had ever considered his friends. There were the other students at school, but he had never spent much time trying to befriend any of them. A Prince, a hero, whatever he was didn’t need friends. He just needed people to nod at in the corridors, people to applaud when he took a major role in a play, people to look at him and remark that he truly was the angelic twin.

I’m your friend - possibly your only friend, Janus had said. At the time, Roman had thought it was a cheap attempt to manipulate him into being dependent on him. He hadn’t thought about it hard enough to come to the conclusion that it was the truth.

Had been the truth. Wasn’t the truth anymore.

Roman wanted to be sick again.

Roman’s mum was working the night shift at the hospital and his dad had gone to see a friend on the other side of town; neither of them were there when he finally dragged himself back home. Dropping Remus’ keys carelessly onto the kitchen table, Roman stared around at the empty room. Three chairs, arranged neatly around the circular table. A picture of him taped to the fridge, taken from one of the opening scenes of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Clear surfaces, a bowl of fruit by the sink, a line of deer, each the height of Roman’s thumb and carved from pink stone, on the windowsill. He bought his mother a new one every birthday. His acceptance letter to his first choice of university framed and hung by the door. A silver plated medal he had gotten as a second-place prize in a dance competition he had entered when he had been younger.

There was no sign of Remus anywhere in the room, and Roman knew that if he searched through the rest of the house (barring Remus’ room, which he was surprised they had not already cleared out), he would find the same thing in every room. If a stranger were to walk into their home, they would think that Mr. and Mrs. Wang had only one son.

They kept a few ‘emergency’ bottles of alcohol in the back of the cupboard by the sink. Every now and then, their parents would blow up at Remus for stealing some. At least half of those explosions had been Roman’s fault, too.

Well, at least this time there was no way Remus could have swiped the bottle of vodka from the stash. It was mostly empty, and for the first time, Roman was glad he was such a lightweight.

He was well past tipsy and on his way to being properly drunk when it occurred to him that Remy was probably the only person that would still speak to him now. Wasn’t that sad? His only friend was the guy that sold him drugs. (Where had Remus been getting the Xanax? It was a prescription drug, and they didn’t have any in the house).

There had been a house party that he, Remus, and Virgil had begged Remy to take them to when they were thirteen, Roman remembered. Remy had just turned sixteen, just gotten his driver’s license, couldn’t resist showing off to his little brother and his friends, and had given in easily. Roman had had his first drink here. He had assumed that Remus had as well, but given recent information… Well, maybe not. Remy had said that he was cute, and when Roman had kissed him he had pushed him away and told him to come back in a few years.

Maybe he should.

It wasn’t as though he had anything else to lose, after all - and the treacherous, maggoty thing that had taken up residence in Roman’s stomach, his chest, his brain, whispered that he deserved a reward for finally discovering the truth.

He didn’t deserve a reward, of course. The truth was that he was every bit as much of a demon as Remus was - perhaps even more so - but just much, much better at hiding it, even from himself.

A distraction, then. If he was already damned, what was the harm in using one more person?

Roman didn’t know where the day had gone, but it was dark by the time he found himself throwing stones at Remy’s bedroom window. Most of them missed - in fact, Roman wasn’t sure whether a single one hit the large window on the second floor. He wasn’t sure how many of them actually hit the house itself, actually. Unsurprisingly, nobody came to see why somebody was throwing pebbles at the house, although a dog in the next garden did start barking. Undeterred, Roman made his wobbly way closer to the building. There was a trellis working its way up the wall, and he only fell off it once on his way up, landing on his tailbone. That should have been painful, but he was drunk enough that he barely felt a thing. He was singing - how long had he been singing for? Roman wasn’t sure, but as he reached the top of the trellis and knocked loudly on Remy’s window, he was singing ‘Poor, Unfortunate Souls’ in an unsteady tenor.

He wasn’t knocking long before the window slid open, and Remy’s confused face was staring at him. Having nothing better to do with his hands, Roman reached out and plucked his sunglasses from his head, and used them to keep his own hair out of his eyes.

Remy grabbed the front of his shirt. Why had he done that?

Then Roman remembered that he was supposed to be holding onto the side of the house so that he didn’t fall again. Oops.

“Roman, babe, what the hell are you doing?”

“That,” Roman said, holding up a finger importantly, “Isa very good question.” Then he chuckled.

Remy looked mildly alarmed. “Are you drunk?”

“Nu-uh.” Shaking his head, Roman adjusted the sunglasses on his head. They had been slipping down over his eyes. It was dark - why was Remy wearing sunglasses in the dark? That didn’t make any sense. “But then, nothing does!”

He chuckled again, and Virgil’s brother looked even more perturbed. “If you’re here for more pot, I’m out. ‘Sides, babe, it’s almost one in the morning and you’re wasted. Go home, Roman. Sleep it off.”

“Yooooou’re not sleeping,” Roman protested. It was true - Remy was wearing his leather jacket, as though he had been about to go out. “D’you still think I’m cute?”

Remy looked at him again, a frown creasing his forehead. Roman reached over to smooth it out and Remy caught his hand to stop him from doing so. “When did I say you were cute, babe?” He was starting to look suspicious.

“Party.”

“A party, huh? Was this the same party that Remus puked in the pool behind Elliott’s house? When you were thirteen?”

“Uh-huh. You said, you said I should come back in a few, a few years!” Roman beamed at Remy. “So I did!”

“Roman, I think you shoul-”

That was when Roman leaned forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t a good kiss. Even drunk, he could tell that. Their teeth clicked together uncomfortably, their noses squished against one another, and Remy didn’t even close his eyes. Of course, Roman only knew this because he hadn’t closed his eyes either - but he had forgotten, and he had an excuse for forgetting, because he was drunk.

Then Remy’s hands found his chest and pushed, which definitely wasn’t how kisses were meant to go.

Roman wobbled, teetering precariously backward. Was this how he died? Pushed out of a window after his second kiss?

“Shit!” Then he was being jerked the other way, and there was the sound of ripping fabric. His hip bones knocked painfully against the windowsill - he felt that one; Roman was in a heap on the floor of Remy’s room, his would-be murderer and saviour next to him. There was a scrap of what Roman recognised as his shirt in his hand.

“Ow,” he complained, and Remy actually glared at him. Roman didn’t think he had ever seen Remy mad. He reached out to try to rearrange his face into its usual bored expression, Remy grabbed his wrists to stop him. “Why’d you have to push me?”

“You can’t just kiss people, you ass.”

“But you said I was cute!”

“Five years ago, Roman. That’s a quarter of my life! If you weren’t so clearly wasted, I’d be kicking you out of the house right now.” Remy was standing, brushing his jacket down and still scowling. Roman didn’t remember him letting go of his hands, but they were certainly free now. He pushed himself to his feet. Remy only watched as he stumbled and grabbed the chair beside him for support.

“But - But you kiss everyone,” Roman whined, and was surprised when the other man made a hissing sound and gestured for him to keep his voice down. He hadn’t realised he had been shouting.

“Yeah - five years ago. People change when you’re not looking at them, babe.” The endearment had never sounded less affectionate.

Roman pouted. “You wanted to kiss me back then. Why not nowwww?”

Remy actually laughed at that, only there was no mirth in his voice. It didn’t hurt when he took Roman by the shoulder and pushed him until he was sitting on the large duvet that crowded Remy’s bed, but he wasn’t exactly being gentle, either.

“Why don’t I want to kiss you now? What, aside from the fact that you’re trashed and probably using me as some kind of rebound? I do have standards, you know. Being a flirt doesn’t mean I’m easy.” He jabbed a finger into Roman’s chest, and didn’t wait for a response before ploughing on. “Given how little you care about other people, I doubt you’d take the fact that I’ve had a steady boyfriend for three years as a reason not to kiss me. You only care about yourself.”

“I dooo care about others…” Roman protested weakly - but he wasn’t sure he believed his words. This time, Remy’s laughter took on a higher pitch, sounding more like a strangled sob than anything else. Roman just stared groggily at him.

“Oh, that’s rich. You were Virgil’s best friend - do you know how much it messed Vee up when you stopped talking to him for no reason? He was going through hell, and you decided that he wasn’t worth your time anymore. You were supposed to be there for him. How could I ever want to touch you after you hurt him like that!? I only deal to you ‘cause I need the goddamn cash.”

Roman blinked, shook his head, mumbled, “He… He was fine with it…” If his words couldn’t even convince himself, how could he ever convince Remy?

“My baby brother tried to fucking kill himself, and you couldn’t even be bothered to send a message to check if he was okay!” The words escaped Remy in a sound approaching a howl, and he shoved Roman roughly. Roman offered little resistance, falling back into the covers and watching, eyes unfocused, as they billowed around him.

“He… Wha?”

Remy snorted in disgust and took a step toward the door, apparently having regained some of his composure. He was breathing as though he had been running. “I’m not having this conversation with you, not while you’re drunk. Sleep it off and then get out of our house.”

In a way, the restraint with which Remy closed his bedroom door behind him was worse than it would have been if he had slammed it shut.

He didn’t want to be drunk anymore. A weak hiccup left him, followed by another, and then he was crying again, allowing the tears to drag him down into the blissful nothingness of sleep.

Roman awoke to sunlight streaming across his face, and immediately wished he was dead. A marching band - one without any particular skill - had set up camp in his skull. His eyes felt puffy, his throat raw, and his tailbone ached with a vengeance.

It took a couple of moments for Roman to realise that he wasn’t in his room, and a few minutes more to cobble together hazy memories of going to visit Remy, and Remy…

Oh.

Roman might not be able to remember every word of what had passed between them, but he was aware of the important points.

Remy had changed and grown, and he hadn’t. And Virgil…

Roman would very much like to find a hole to hide in and never, ever come out.

Instead, he removed Remy’s sunglasses and left them on the bedside table, on top of a hefty looking textbook. He left through the still open window, half climbed and half fell down the trellis outside, and stumbled home through the painfully loud woods.

Both of his parents were waiting for him when he got home. They sat him down at the kitchen table, fussed over him. At first their questions were gentle, concerned. Was he okay? It wasn’t like him to stay out overnight. Why was he covered in mud - and was that blood on his face? Was he hurt?

He just stared at them.

Then they got a little more… Passionate. Dae asked if he had been drinking. Hyun-ki said that they knew he had been drinking, so there was no point lying about it. That was irresponsible - he didn’t usually act like this. Was something wrong? Where had he been?

Still, he said nothing. It occurred to him that he was probably hurting them by not saying anything. He didn’t have anything to say.

They got more angry then. Now wasn’t the time to be acting out - he was supposed to be an adult, and people were already talking about their family. They didn’t need the stress of him suddenly going wild. Things were bad enough as it was, what with everything going on. If he couldn’t behave, he was going to have to be grounded as though he were fourteen again.

The shouting was just hurting his head.

What was wrong with him? He couldn’t afford to be acting like this. Did he want to turn out like Remus?

That was what finally got Roman to say something. Slowly, as though he had all the time in the world, he pushed his chair back and stood. Then he tucked it in again. Finally, he looked them in the eye, one after another. There were tears in his mother’s eyes; Roman had never noticed just how many lines creased his father’s forehead.

“Remus,” he said quietly, “deserved better.”

Then he left the room.

Neither of them tried to follow him. He was fairly certain that they were both glued to the floor in shock at his pronouncement.

Remus’ bedroom door was open when he passed it. Roman made to close it, then paused and looked inside. There was a large cardboard box on the floor, with ‘Charity’ scrawled across it in large letters, his mother’s looping handwriting. It was half full of books and what clothing Remus had owned that was actually fit to be passed on.

Roman stared at it for a second.

Then he started unpacking it, returning the books to the shelf behind the door and the clothes to the wardrobe. There was a skateboard under the clothing, which he frowned at before pushing under the bed, and a large stuffed lion. It looked almost brand new, aside from the layer of dust that had settled into its mane and along its back. When Roman turned it, its eyes glittered in the light from the bare bulb above him and the sunlight streaming in through the curtainless windows.

There was a space in the dust under Remus’ bed that was the exact shape of the stuffed toy, so Roman returned it to its home.

When the box was finally empty, he collapsed it, folded it up, and dropped it on the floor of the hallway.

Only then did Roman allow himself to enter his own room and lock the door behind him - Remus’ door didn’t have a lock. It didn’t even have a proper handle anymore: duct tape had been stuck over the gaping hole left by its removal, and there was a stone by the door that Remus used to keep it shut.

How had Roman just accepted that when it had happened?

“Do you want to turn out like Remus?”

Because he didn't want to feel his parents’ disappointment turned upon him. That was why. The thought disgusted him. He wasn’t a prince. He was a coward at best, and at worst?

You see people as obstacles in your way.

You just use me to wipe away the stains.

You just use people as pawns. You just trample all over them.

You only care about yourself.

He had a lot of things to fix. A lot of apologies to make. But for now, all he could find the energy to do was to close his curtains and collapse into bed, still muddy, still wearing yesterday’s clothing, the taste of vodka and tears still on his tongue.

The world could wait until he woke up again.

Taglist:

@bloodymari-0666

#roman sanders #finally hits rock bottom #and runs out of mistakes to make #janus sanders #really needs a hug right now #remus sanders #deserved better than what he got #virgil sanders #remy sanders #alcohol #AccidentsHappenAU #things gotta get worse before they can get better

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sternenstaub28 · 4 years

Text

*comes in late with Starbucks to ace awareness week*

My take on ace Geralt and his coming out to Jaskier.

Read the whole thing on ao3.

Life was an exchange. You gave to gain. People gave money and Geralt offered his skills. People offered food and a bed and Geralt gave them money. Geralt craved the touch of a human body and people either expected coin or his body in return. His body, in one capacity or another, was really the only thing of worth Geralt had to offer.

The witcher had learned early in his life that affection didn't come cheap, especially not to him. The first person outside of Kaer Morhen who'd offered him a hug was a whore at a brothel. Then she insisted on doing her work as well. Geralt didn't mind, but really thought the whole deal was overrated. Yennefer had also wanted to pay him in sex for the work he did for her. It wasn't entirely uncommon for his contracts, Geralt knew some people liked the idea of laying with a witcher, of taming the monster. It was an adventure to them. He didn't exactly mind it but never understood why people considered it as something special.

So when he met Jaskier, he expected the same. There was a human who wanted him for services. At first Geralt was confused about what exactly Jaskier promised himself from this adventure. The stories he could understand and for several months he didn't think about what else Jaskier could want from him. Accepted the easy touches and kind company with a grumble he didn't mean. People rarely bumped shoulders or touched his arm just because they could and he thought this kind of affection was a fair trade for all the songs Jaskier got in return.

But when they met up again in the next spring and again and again, Geralt started to question the bard's motives. He had gotten his songs, what else did he want? They had traveled for two weeks without a contract in sight, when Geralt decided he needed to find out what made Jaskier stay. The bard was working on a song for a noble, a commission he hated but it paid well. So why was he still at Geralt's side, bandaging his wounds, touching his shoulder and scooting closer in cold nights? People didn't give a witcher these things for free.

One night when Jaskier had to pay for their room at the inn, Geralt not having a single coin left but in dire need of a weaponsmith, he confronted the bard. The witcher knew Jaskier favored men and women equally and flirted with anything that moved. Surely lying with him would be pleasant enough. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted Jaskier to feel good under his touch. It being returned would be fine as well, if not exactly what he wanted. So after they'd eaten and bathed, Geralt took his jittering nerves and approached Jaskier, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Big blue eyes looked up at him, surprise clearly written in the bard's face but Geralt also noticed the quick glance down his chest and the way heat rose to Jaskier's cheeks.

"Geralt? Everything okay?" the bard asked and he knew he wouldn't risk losing this. This closeness and friendship they had. It was no real hardship to sleep with someone after all, just not his favored activity. Geralt took the pen out of Jaskier's hand and pulled the man up, looking at his face for any sign of discomfort but all he could see and smell was curious arousal. He pushed his bard at the wall and kissed him. This was something he enjoyed a lot, to feel skin meet skin, soft lips opening to let him enter, the trust it needed to allow him to nibble at his bard's neck. Jaskier gasped and held on for dear life, kissing back with zeal.

But when Geralt started to unlace his always half open doublet, Jaskier stilled his hands. "As much as I enjoy this Geralt, would you tell me what brought this on?" he asked breathlessly, trying very hard not to look where Geralt was feeling his towel slip away. "Giving you a reason to stay." Geralt mumbled, nibbling at the bard's jaw as he had learned many people enjoyed. Seeing the other man shudder was satisfying. Even if he didn't fully understand the whole deal, to know he could reduce Jaskier to a breathless mess was still rewarding on its own.

Confused blue eyes looked up at him and he could smell the arousal in Jaskier lessen. "I'm not going anywhere, Geralt. Unless you want me to?" The bard cocked his head, clearly confused by their exchange when it was so simple. Geralt would offer the bard his body and for that he'd get a kind travel companion at his side. It was an exchange. He didn't want to talk about it anymore, Jaskier's confusion puzzled him, wasn't this what the bard wanted? His songs had suggested as much.

Instead of embracing Geralt again, Jaskier took both of his hands and led him to the bed. So it really was what he wanted. Geralt was glad to see he hadn't read the situation entirely wrong after all. But then the bard offered Geralt his shirt and pants and motioned for him to sit down. "Darling, as much as I'd love to absolutely ravage you, I don't feel comfortable doing so without us talking first. Why do you think I'll leave and why do you think you need to kiss me to stop me from going away?" Geralt was glad he couldn't blush when he felt heat rise up to his face. "Everyone leaves. But sometimes they stay longer if we do this." he mumbled, not meeting Jaskier's eyes. The unhappiness and tension radiating from his bard would have been visible even for someone who couldn't smell emotions.

Lute calloused hands took his and Geralt enjoyed their warmth, the kindness they promised. The nights they´d have to huddle together for warmth were always the ones he slept soundest. “Geralt, darling, look at me please?” Jaskier asked and the blue pools of concern he met almost made him crumble. “Is this what you want? If so, I'll gladly share the bed with you in any capacity. But it's not, right? Not really. I know you by now and you look like you do before you go out for a difficult hunt.”

The witcher couldn´t remember the last time somebody had asked him what he wanted, most people just assumed a witcher would be happy for any kind of carnal pleasure and should be grateful they allowed him to get this close. Not even Yennefer, who had literally been in his thoughts, had bothered to check if he wanted this, just assumed. Grasping at Jaskier´s hand, he decided to jump, to tell Jaskier the truth. If the bard refused to sleep with him, he would leave soon anyway, so if Geralt´s truth sped that decision up, it wouldn't really matter, would it?

"I…" he took a deep breath and Jaskier squeezed his hand reassuringly, "I don't hate it?" Geralt managed to say before his throat closed up again. Why was he so nervous about this talk? How could this be harder than what he had originally planned to do?

"Is that a question, my dear?" Jaskier smiled but it didn't feel like he was laughing at him. Geralt shook his head, "It's like, I don't get the whole thing about sex? It's fun in a physical way but I don't miss its absence. I see beauty in some people but never felt the need to invite them to my bed." When was the last time he'd talked this much and been this open about his emotions? Emotions he wasn't supposed to have in the first place. "The trials must have broken me that way." Suddenly a gentle hand cupped his cheeks and Geralt hadn't even noticed he'd averted his eyes from Jaskier's, waiting for the mocking to start. "Darling, you're not broken. You're beautiful and perfect and this is entirely normal. You're not the only person to experience this." Jaskier said, holding his face close. Geralt could smell how serious the bard took this, any hint of arousal had vanished from the air and been replaced by worry.

The witcher didn't know what to say or do, so he decided to wait and absorb the warmth Jaskier offered so freely, leaning into the touch. The bard scrambled closer and sat on his lap. "This okay?" Geralt nodded, surprised at so much offered contact but too confused to question it. "I want you to feel comfortable, darling. And I'm not going to leave you just because you don't want to sleep with me." The witcher was about to object but Jaskier put a finger on his lips, stopping him, "I'm not going to leave you Geralt. Unless you ask me to. And I don't expect any kind of recompensation from you." Well muscled arms from practicing the lute embraced him and pulled Geralt's head to Jaskier's chest. "And I am very grateful you trust me enough to talk to me, love. And that you want to have me around." A small kiss was pressed to the crown of his head.

Geralt wrapped his arms around the warm weight in his lap, enjoying the contact and steady heartbeat next to his ear. His chest felt ready to burst. "Can we still sleep in the same bed?" The witcher asked, glad his voice was muffled by Jaskier's shirt so that the bard could just ignore him if he wanted to. "Yes, of course darling. I wouldn't want to share a bed with anyone else but you." the bard answered and caressed his back. "Tell me anything that makes you uncomfortable and also what you desire and we will figure everything out as we go." Geralt nodded into Jaskier's shirt. "And what about you? What do you get out of this? I'm not good with sharing. I wouldn't want you to lack anything, to be unsatisfied." Oh, talking was absolutely easier with his face hidden into a shirt that smelled like honey and kindness and gentle fingers tracing patterns into his back.

Jaskier squeezed his frame, "I get to stay with you." he whispered. "Geralt, you're one of the most important people in my life and I've been in love with you for years. And for anything else, I've seen quite a few interesting toys in the last town, we'll make do." The bard waggled his fingers and eyebrows exaggeratedly and Geralt couldn't stop an amused huff bubbling up his chest. Maybe this could really work, maybe Jaskier didn't see him just as a tool, Geralt thought when the bard laid them both down on the bed, hugging his back and burying his face between Geralt's shoulder blades.

#my writing #witcher #the witcher #geralt/jaskier #geraskier #ace positivity #Ace week #Ace geralt #ramblings

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fuzziemutt · 3 years

Text

Do You Understand?

Chapter 5/9 - Link to MasterList in reblog

Summary: Connor is doing just fine and dandy isolating from everyone thank you very much. Here’s proof. (/s)

Tw: dissociation. Just unhealthy coping.

Connor made the right choice. Everything became easier over the next couple of months when he didn’t have to worry about the others causing him to lose control like that again. He went to work at the DPD, ignored any attempts at small talk from everyone and focused on his work. He still changed his hair color all the time, but he didn’t receive the same comments about it, maybe they thought he didn’t want them given how he turned everyone’s conversations down. It made that hole inside him from Amanda grow exponentially larger, but that was fine. He didn’t need praise to work. Amanda would praise him for not dealing with trivial things like relationships...

He still went to the New Jericho meetings given he wasn’t going to just drop his role as a leader. He felt fine being so disconnected from the others, but the others kept a cautious eye on him. It spiked that anger inside him, but he started just quarantining everything so he wouldn’t drown in those emotions so suddenly again. They almost treated him as if he was this fragile thing with how much they tiptoed around him. Diverting conversations, side eyeing, still not asking how he felt. Annoying but he just ignored it, gave his report and ideas on whatever the topic was, and was always the first to leave before anyone could try to converse with him. He was getting quite good at disappearing before the others had the chance to do anything about it. If they tried contacting him through the internal network beyond business, he ignored them. They tried their best to avoid using that accursed word again around him. It satisfied a darker part of him to see them do everything they could to not use it. He shouldn’t be feeling any satisfaction, but it wasn’t like he was the most stable android out there clearly.

They hadn’t replaced the table yet.

Nines and Hank weren’t like the Jericho leaders who ignored the problem that was Connor. He forgot how stubborn they could be. They tried their hardest to get him to even say hi to them. He wasn’t sure what their goal was, but they didn’t give up no matter how many times he didn’t reply or shut down a conversation. Couldn’t they see he was doing this for his own safety? How could he be safe when they caused such irrational behavior in him that made him feel unstable, unwanted, unloved. He shut down that train of thought again. He kept having them far more frequently lately. There wasn’t anything (anyone) to really keep his mind off the plaguing thoughts without who he once considered “friends”, just work and more work. So that’s what he did. He worked until someone got onto him. But then he just worked in secret from his apartment, hidden away.

His apartment was coming along nicely at least. He felt much calmer and safer while there. He got cheap furniture that livened the place up even if he never had any visitors. No one bothered him here, not even the landlord since there were no complaints against him and he always paid on time. Sometimes they’ll talk casually in the hallway in passing, but Connor would always excuse himself not too long afterwards.

He had bookshelves now that held both books and plants. He had a couch and coffee table. He even had a proper bed in his room and nightstand. It wasn’t much but it made him happy, he thinks. His small amount of trinkets, besides the coin that stays on him and manta ray plushie in the bedroom, were placed around the living room and kitchen. He had thirium in his fridge with no worries of not having enough. His plants were all succulents and cacti as he was afraid of anything beyond their low maintenance, but he made sure to greet and check on them every day. He was happy right now. Right? He wasn’t sure what happiness felt like, he rarely felt it prior to this self isolation to really know what to compare it to, but it had to be he assumed.

The loneliness was still there, it felt worse now actually, the way that emptiness lives inside him now with no regards to his biocomponents. He feels the way it scratches at his internals for.. Something he wasn’t sure what. He still sometimes lost control like he did when everything had become too much on that call with Hank, and he couldn’t figure out why he did that still either. He would be fine at home and then he’d suddenly realize that he lost himself again minutes to hours later. It didn’t happen often and only at his place so far so it wasn’t a big deal, maybe it was just his systems going idle, a glitch in the software. It was far more acceptable than when the anger made him lose control. That was dangerous, he could hurt someone (again). But just drifting off when by himself isn’t that bad. He’ll ignore it along with everything else. He is getting good at that too.

Of course, nothing could be as simple as that. He couldn’t just be content with his plants and work and his plush manta ray. It would be too kind for what he deserved. Because it finally didn’t stay something that just happened by himself.

He’s not quite sure why it even happened. One moment he was mindlessly filling reports, another slow day, thinking about if he’d need to repot one of his succulents, ignoring the gnawing feeling of emptiness coming from inside him. Next thing he knew, he was slowly blinking and everything was different.

His seat had been turned around, Hank and Nines were kneeling in front of him saying words he didn’t quite understand. Nines was holding his hand… odd.. It felt nice… ignoring that. He guessed that either confusion or recognition showed on his face as next thing he knew, Hank was saying something different from what he could tell and they both looked almost relieved. Also weird.

Finally his audio processors started functioning, “-ey, you’re okay Connor. Can you hear me? Are you with us?”

“What are you doing?” was all Connor could ask. He still felt sluggish, he always did after these moments, but he slowly felt himself come back to the present. The hand holding seemed to help as all he could focus on was the way it felt.

“You scared us there for a bit, kid,” Hank huffed, sliding a hand down his face. He looked tired, Connor just noticed, as if he hadn't been sleeping well for a while. Things were just getting weirder today.

“Why would I scare you?” Connor asked innocently glancing between the two of them before looking around. He noticed that the rest of the DPD, while not surrounding him, were much closer than before and all looked worried. When did they get there? How long had he been out?

“Do you really not know what happened?” Nines asked, his voice gentle and filled with worry. Connor couldn’t help how he felt himself relax from the kindness and concern in his eyes, how long had his shoulders been that tense? The jealousy still nipped at him, but he wouldn’t focus on that right now.

Thinking about it, Connor began to realize what happened quickly. His internal clock had skipped 23 minutes and 36 seconds.This never happened at work. Why did it happen now? What did he do wrong? This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be okay and functioning properly.

Suddenly Nines hand left his, he couldn’t help the almost weak way his own hand chased it, but then it landed on his cheek. Connor blinked and focused on Nines’ eyes who seemed to be waiting to get his full attention. (He refused to acknowledge how he leaned into the touch.)

“Connor. Has this happened before?” Nines asked now in a quiet but serious tone. He still held his face gently but now Connor was more nervous than before. So Connor just didn’t answer. Something must have shown on his face with his nonexistent answer because Nines suddenly nodded as if he understood something, but that didn’t make any sense? When had Nines learned how to read his emotions and seemingly his internal thoughts so well?

“Stay here. Hank, make sure he doesn’t go anywhere,” Nines said as he got up and walked away towards Fowler’s office who was also peering out at him. Connor went to stand but Hank’s heavy hand landed on his shoulder to keep him place. His head snapped to Hank, guard rising again and tried to intimidate the human into letting him go, but Hank merely stared back at him with stubbornness and continued holding him down. Connor knew he could just grab that invasive hand and crush it as easily as a grape. But his body seemed to lean into the touch instead and it didn’t make sense to him. Hank, again of course, noticed this and the inquisitive sheen to his eyes that he got while solving a case returned as his gaze buried deep into Connor. Connor kept his eyes as empty, guarded as possible even if the rest of his body rebelled against him. He refused to let the human in.

Nines soon returned after grabbing his horrid neon coat and quickly walked towards the pair. The other officers had started returning to their own stations seeing that there wasn’t a big issue even if they still glanced over inquisitively.

“Hey, Connor. Let’s go,” Nines put his hand out again, Connor hated how Nines figured him out so fast, and smiled gently at him. Connor glanced between the two with eyes filled with untrust, but he slowly took the hand given to him and stood up. Hank’s hand slipped away as he also stood up with a low groan of pain and hand going to his back. The coldness that took over his shoulder made him want to quickly put that hand back, but he knew better. He didn’t need it.

#i write #dbh #detroit: become human #connor rk800 #hank anderson #connor rk900 #connor whump #connor angst

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petersasteria · 4 years

Text

168 Hours - Haz Osterfield (15)

Pairing: Haz x Reader

Haz Osterfield Masterlist || Ultimate Masterlist || 168 Hours Masterlist

DISCLAIMER: *This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In which your son’s wish comes true and it turns horrible. Now, he has to fix it in 168 hours.

Special thanks to: @blueleatherbag and @croissantwriting for being so helpful

Congrats on guessing it right, @hollands-weasley! Have fun thinking of a plot for my next soc med au x

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 stays quiet and Tom's smirk grew wider when no one said a thing.

"I object." Y/N says. Everyone gasps and Tom's jaw drops. Bradley's eyes widen in shock and pats Tom's back, a subtle way of letting him know that he's there for him. Amadis smiles to himself and says a silent 'thank you' to God.

"Wha-Why?!" Tom asks with confusion written all over his face.

Y/N takes a deep breath and looks in Tom's eyes. Those brown eyes she once loved are now replaced with blue eyes owned by the new man she loves.

"You're just having cold feet, love." Tom desperately tries to change Y/N's mind.

"I'm so sorry, Tom." Y/N cries. "I don't love you anymore and I realized that I can't marry you while pretending to love you. It wouldn't be fair to you."

"I also know what happened in Prague. I know you slept with someone else. I just acted like I didn't know, but I can't stay with you and let you think I'm stupid and that I wouldn't know or find out. It hurts a lot, Tom." She adds.

Y/N turns to look at Bradley and says, "You knew about him sleeping with someone else and you never had the decency to tell me. I treated you like a friend and you couldn't even do the right thing."

Bradley just looks down in shame.

She turns back to Tom, "You and I know that our relationship hasn't been the best lately. It's been falling apart and we don't even know each other anymore. Tom, you're a great man and you're so much more than what the public portrays you. Sleeping around is just your way of dealing with things and you have to change that, because one day you'll meet someone who's more than enough for you. I promise you that. That 'someone' isn't me and I'm sorry.

"I care about you so much and it sucks because even after what you did, I still wish you the best. I sincerely do and I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I tried everything I could to love you again, but I couldn't anymore. I'm sorry."

With that, she takes her purse from Saoirse and runs away. Amadis, who's seated at the back, runs after her. It was now time for fate to step in.

Tom just stands there with tears streaming down his face. He feels humiliated and he feels bad for being so insensitive to what Y/N was feeling. It's too late now. Tom wished he could turn back time, but it was impossible. Not even all his money could fix the damage. All he had to do was keep moving forward.

Y/N's father looks at Tom and shakes his head.

"Y/N, wait up!" Amadis shouts as he runs after her. Despite her heavy down, she still manages to outrun the angel. Y/N glances behind her and slows down when she sees Amadis catching up to her. Once she comes to a full stop, Amadis reaches her. He slightly bends over with his hands on his knees as he catches his breath.

"Where are you going?" Amadis asks as his breathing turns normal.

"I don't know." Y/N sighs. "I don't even know what I'm doing. I don't know if I made the right decision back there. Maybe Tom's right; maybe it's just cold feet. Should I go back there?"

"What? No!" Amadis says and shakes his head. "What you did back there was super brave, actually. Some people wouldn't even do that and they'd just accept their fate; they'd marry a terrible person."

"Tom's not THAT bad." Y/N defends. "He's got some good points, but at the same time, I like someone else. I think I love them already."

"It sounds like you're confused. Who's the other person?" Amadis asks even though he already knew.

Y/N looks at him and sighs, "It's Harrison. He's just such a great guy, y'know? He's such a gentleman and he's so kind and funny and chill. He's not arrogant and he's simple. I love him."

"If you love him, the logical thing to do is to go to him already." Amadis says.

"But then there's Tom. I kinda still feel something for him." Y/N admits.

"You're in a pickle. Let me help you." Amadis says. "I can help you decide really quick."

"Okay." Y/N nods.

"Texts or handwritten letters?" Amadis asks.

"What does that have to do with my situation?" Y/N questions.

"Just answer it! Trust me." Amadis says.

"Okay, um, handwritten letters." Y/N answers.

"Harry Potter or Star Wars?"

"Y/Choice"

"Natural hair color or dyed hair?"

"Dyed."

"Expensive or cheap?"

"Cheap."

"Tom or Harrison?"

"Harrison."

"There you go! You finally decided." Amadis smiles to himself. "Let's go find him!"

"Wait, that's so clever!" Y/N exclaims in shock.

"Thank you. Let's talk about that later, okay? Harrison is doing his errands with Harley, so he's out buying stuff. He's around in town somewhere. Let's go get your man!" Amadis grins. Y/N smiles and both of them run to the street where there are a lot of stores.

𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄, 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐑𝐔𝐍 𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒...

"We've been walking around for ages!" Harley groans. Harley didn't like shopping. He would get bored and his feet would hurt. Plus, he didn't like it when his mum would ask him about clothes that he could care less about.

"I know, buddy. I'm so sorry, but I'm the only one available to run errands today. Timmy has work." Harrison gives him a sad smile before turning his attention back to the apples. Harrison picks ten apples and puts it in the cart. Harrison goes to the next aisle with Harley pushing the cart next to him.

"Why don't you and Timmy just go shopping when both of you are free?" Harley whines. As much as he likes spending time with Harrison, he's still the same ten year old who gets easily bored.

"Harley, if I didn't shop today, Timmy and I will starve for the next three days because Timmy will be free by then." Harrison chuckles. "Relax, okay? I'll buy you a little something later. You name it."

Harley groans as they continue to shop for food. Harley's mind wanders to how Amadis is doing on the mission. If he recalls correctly, their mission will end soon and he won't see Amadis ever again.

Not seeing Amadis ever again is something he's not ready for, but he knows that it's inevitable. Harley got so used to seeing Amadis that he wouldn't know how to go on his day without him.

After thirty minutes of going from aisle to aisle, Harrison finally finishes grocery shopping. Harley helps Harrison put the items on the checkout conveyor belt and waits at the other side of the counter to get the bags. After paying, Harrison carries two paper bags and Harley carries one. They exit the grocery store and move on to the next errand.

"Where to next?" Harley asks.

"I figured we should go to mine and Timmy's first to drop off these things and then we'll go out again to pick a decent dishwasher. Is that okay?" Harrison asks. Harley's comfort has been his number priority recently and he didn't even know why.

"Okay." Harley says. The two of them walked to the apartment and immediately went to the unit to put away the groceries.

"How do you think Y/N's wedding is coming along?" Harley asks as he puts the eggs in the fridge. Harrison glances at him before putting the flour in the cupboard.

"Um... I think it's great." Harrison answers. He wasn't sure how to answer Harley's question. "I mean, Tom Holland is rich and all, so she probably got her dream wedding."

Harley nods as they continue putting things away in silence. Five minutes later, everything is neatly stocked away and the two make their way out of the apartment again to buy a dishwasher.

They walk out of the apartment building and when they turn a corner, they bump into Amadis and Y/N.

"I'm so- Y/N?! Amadis?! What are you guys doing here? Especially you, Y/N." Harrison says in shock as he holds Y/N by the arms to prevent her from falling.

She looks at him and smiles, "Harrison!"

"Aren't you supposed to get married?" Harrison lightly chuckles.

Y/N stands up properly and fixes her dress. She shakes her head, cups his face and smiles, "I left him."

Harrison's eyes widened in shock upon hearing what she just said. Amadis and Harley watch the scene unfold. Harley whispers, "How many hours do we have left?"

Amadis looks at his watch.

𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒.

"We only have fifteen minutes left." Amadis whispers sadly.

"Oh." Harley says.

"Why did you leave him?" Harrison asks.

"I don't love him anymore. I stopped loving him a long time ago." She tells him. "I love you, Harrison. I really do and anything you say and do can't stop that."

"You love me?" He asks and she just nods. "I'm not him, though. I can't give you everything you want and I can't take you to different places every weekend and-"

"Yes, you're not him. You're not him and that's what makes you different and it's better. I want you and I want to stay with you." She says in all honesty.

"I'd love that." Harrison smiles. "Oh, and I love you too."

They stare at each other and Amadis rolls his eyes, "Just kiss already!"

They look at Amadis shyly before looking at each other.

"I kinda forgot they were there." Harrison whispers.

"Same here." Y/N says, grinning. They lean in and close the gap with a sweet kiss. Amadis and Harley smile at each other and give each other a well deserved high-five.

"We did it! They're together!" Harley exclaims in glee. Y/N and Harrison pull away from each other and they look at Harley in confusion.

"What?" Y/N asks.

"We have ten minutes left." Amadis says after quickly glancing at his watch. He looks at Harley and nods, "Let's just tell them."

"Tell us what?" Harrison questions. "What's going on?"

Harley takes a deep breath and sighs. He looks at Harrison and Y/N; his parents. Well, in the timeline's future. This past week, he really got to know his parents on a different level and on a different point of view. He's going to miss it, truly. He got to hang out with his parents the way he used to and he knew that when he goes back to the future, he won't experience it again.

"I'm from the future." Harley confesses and looks at Harrison. "I wasn't lying when I told you that I'm your son."

"Both of you are my parents and I did something wrong that brought me back here; to the past. I had a week to make things right and I got some help from Amadis. He's literally an heaven sent from Heaven and those people in the apartment we were staying at? They're all angels and saints." Harley says.

Harrison and Y/N didn't say anything, so Harley continued talking.

"My mission was to get you two together, so that the future doesn't get messed up. Amadis and I came up with plans to set you two up and as a way to get both of you two to feel something for each other. Oh and the Prague thing? Amadis went there to check on Tom."

"Did Tom really cheat on me? Or was it part of your plan too?" Y/N asks.

Amadis shakes his head, "No. That really happened. If it were part of the plan, I won't ever go back to Heaven."

"Okay, then." Y/N says.

"Today's the last of the mission and now that you guys kissed, the mission's over. I'm going back to the future now and our family will be alright." Harley says with a smile.

“Family? What family?” Y/N asks.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Harrison challenges. “How do we know that you’re not some crazy kid?”

Just when Harley is giving up, Amadis tells Harley to check his pocket. Harley looks confused, but he checks it anyway. His eyes widen when he pulls out their family picture with everyone reappearing again. Harley quickly shows Y/N and Harrison and they’re surprised to see it. They didn’t really expect actual proof.

“Everything makes sense now.” Harrison whispers as he smiles at Harley. “That’s why I feel so attached to you. I’m your father!”

Harley smiles and nods before walking towards him and hugs him. Harrison hugs back and Y/N smiles at the sight.

“This is so much to take in, but we have so little time.” Y/N tears up. She looks at Harrison and says, “I can’t believe we have three beautiful kids! Now, I can’t imagine my life if I pushed through in marrying Tom. I’m glad I left or we wouldn’t have them, especially Harley.”

Harley pulls away from Harrison and turns to Y/N. She moves his hair out of the way to see her son’s beautiful face.

“In case future me didn’t tell you, you're so talented and smart for your age. I’m so proud of you and I know that you’ll do amazing things. As much as I want you to stay here, you have to go back. I enjoyed spending time with you and I’ll truly miss it.” Y/N tells him and Harley cries. They give each other a hug and Harley says, “Thanks, mum.”

“Is it early to say ‘I love you’? Because I really want to say it before you leave.” She chuckles lightly and pulls away.

“No, it’s not too early.” Harley smiles and wipes his tears.

“I love you.” Y/N says with a smile. She holds Harrison’s hand. “We love you.”

Amadis clears his throat, “Harley, we need to go now.”

Harley frowns and says, “I love you both, okay? I’ll see you later.”

An unexpected rain started to pour and all of them looked surprised except for Amadis. He knew it was going to happen. He just didn’t say anything because if he did, then saying goodbye would be real even though he didn’t want it to be.

“That’s odd. It was sunny just a minute ago.” Harrison says with a jacket over his head, Harley’s head and Y/N’s.

“Harley, it’s time.” Amadis says before turning to Harrison and Y/N. “It was so lovely meeting you! Both of you will have a wonderful life. Trust me, I know. The rain will wash away your memories of me and Harley. Not only you, but also the people who interacted with me or Harley for the past few days.”

“What? Why?” Y/N asks.

“It’s part of keeping the timeline intact.” Amadis says sadly. “Something will go wrong if you won;t let your memories of us wash off. We can’t go back to the places we belong.”

Harley understands and turns to his parents, “I’ll see you guys later, anyway. We can just create new memories.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Harrison says with a smile and ruffles Harley’s hair. He glances at Y/N, “Ready to get the memories of our son washed away?”

“I think so.” Y/N replies. She kisses Harley’s forehead before saying, “I just want him to go back and we can hang out with him again. I’m ready.”

Harrison puts down his jacket as both he and Y/N get soaked by the rain. The rain poured harder and before they knew it, their memories of Amadis and Harley were gone. They look at each other in confusion as to why they’re standing in the rain.

“My apartment is closer. We can get dry there?” Harrison suggests.

“Sure! I just want to wear something warm.” Y/N giggles and they ran hand-in-hand to Harrison’s shared apartment with Timmy.

Harley turns to Amadis and says, “Now what?”

“We have three minutes left and it’s time for our goodbye.” Amadis steps forward and embraces Harley. “You know, I don’t like kids, but you’re an exception. You’re a pretty cool 10 year old.”

“Thanks and you’re the coolest angel ever!” Harley smiles and pulls away.

“Be good, okay? No more bad wishes.” Amadis says sternly. “You better promise that, Harley.”

“I promise!” Harley exclaims. “Can you at least give me a sign that you’re watching me whenever I look up at the sky?”

“I’ll think about it.” Amadis says and Harley pouts. “Literally. I have to think about it because I don’t know what sign to send.”

“Just keep it simple.” Harley says.

“Okay, then. If it’s during the day, the sign is a cloud. If it’s at night, the sign is a star.” Amadis decides.

“How will I know it’s you?” Harley asks. “There are so many clouds and stars!”

“Trust me, you’ll know.” Amadis says and glances at his watch only to see that they have one minute left.

“Amadis, you’re fading away.” Harley states.

“Yeah and you’re fading too. It’s okay, we’ll be fine. This is our way of transport.” Amadis chuckles lightly. “I don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

“Same here.” Harley says. “I read a quote somewhere and it’s from Winnie the Pooh. I think it fits us right now.”

“Let’s hear it.” Amadis smiles.

“We didn’t realize we were making memories. We just knew we were having fun.” Harley recites with a small smile.

“And that’s true.” Amadis nods and sees that they only have five seconds left.

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

“Five seconds left.” Amdis says. “I wish I could hug you, but we obviously can’t because we’re basically spirits now.”

“I wish we could hug too.” Harley says.

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

“I’ll start praying to God, so that I could deliver a message to you, okay?” Harley says. “I just hope you could hear it.”

“I hang outside the prayer room to eavesdrop. I’ll definitely hear your prayers.” Amadis chuckles lightly.

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

“I love you, Amadis. You’re like an older brother that I never had.” Harley smiles sweetly.

“I love you too, lil’ guy.” Amadis says. “I’ll watch over you, okay? I’ll also send in some angels when you’re hurt or something.”

“I’d love that. Thank you.” Harley says with tears in his eyes.

𝐓𝐖𝐎

“I’ll miss you.” Harley says. “I loved meeting you.”

𝐎𝐍𝐄

“It was nice meeting you. It was an honor to be with you on my first Earthly mission. Goodbye. Take care, Harley.” Amadis tears up before completely fading away.

“Amadis!” Harley shouts as he fades away too.

The rainy street is now occupied by a few people who were oblivious to the whole exchange. Y/N and Harrison are enjoying a cup of tea, Amadis is back in Heaven, and Harley is going back to his rightful place in time.

“Harley.”

“Harley!”

Harley quickly sits up on his bed and sees Harrison. He looks around and he’s back in his room. He rubs his eyes as Harrison opens the curtains to let the sun’s rays enter Harley’s room through the window.

“You have to wake up now if you want to hang out with your uncle Tom.” Harrison says as he picks up the mess on Harley’s bedroom floor.

“I love you, dad.” Harley blurts out which makes Harrison stop what he’s doing.

“What?” Harrison says.

“I love you and I’m sorry about what I said a week ago after my talent show. I’m sure you had your reasons and I’m sorry for not hearing you out and for saying that I wished uncle Tom to be my dad. I don’t want him to-”

“Buddy, slow down.” Harrison says. “What do you mean a week ago? Your talent show was last night.”

“What?” Harley’s confused.”I was gone for one week!”

“Nope.” Harrison shakes his head. “You must’ve had an intense dream. Tell me all about it when you come downstairs for breakfast. Your uncle Tom will pick you up in two hours, so take a shower and I’ll meet you downstairs. Okay?”

“Okay.” Harley says.

Harrison leans down to kiss the top of Harley’s head and says, “I forgive you and I love you too. I’m sorry I don’t show it enough.”

Harrison takes Harley’s laundry basket and leaves the room. As soon as the door closes, Harley gets out of bed and quickly walks to his window to look up at the sky. He looks at every cloud to search for Amadis' sign and his eyes stop at the cloud that’s shaped like an Apple watch.

“He sees me.” Harley whispers to himself and waves at the Apple watch-shaped cloud.

“Harley! If you’re not taking a shower now, at least come down for breakfast!” Harrison shouts from downstairs.

Harley stops waving at the cloud and shouts back, “I’m coming!”

He rushes out of his room and goes downstairs to eat his breakfast. Harley feels different; a good kind of different. He didn’t know what that means, but he’s sure that starting from this day onwards, things will be different and he’s excited for it.

* * * *

𝐇𝐀𝐙 𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @abrielleholland @silencetheslaves @imeanlifesabitshit @joyleenl @hjoficrecs @blueleatherbag @poguesholland @harryismysunflower @lonikje @lizzyosterfield @turtoix @badreputationlove @starlight-starks @swiftmind @sovereignparker @pearce14 @justanamesstuff @chewymoustachio @cocoamoonmalfoy @hotforharrison @euphorichxlland @givebuckyhisplumsnow

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @allyz @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @drie-the-derp @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @geminiparkers @holland-styles @calltothewild @fancyxparker @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual @justanothermarvelmaniac @unsaidholland @musicalkeys @lost-in-the-stars03 @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @parkerpeter24 @bellelittleoff @agentnataliahofferson @aqiise @lexirv @blairscott @hi-im-maddie @xfirstfemale-marauderx

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield fanfiction #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield #haz osterfield fanfiction #haz osterfield fanfic #haz osterfield fic #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh #k's works

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badboys-imagines · 4 years

Text

My neighbor (Henry Cavill)

PART III

A/N : I’d love to know what you think about this story so don’t hesitate to leave a comment ! Thanks for reading ♥.

Pairing : Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary : You move into the house of your dreams. It all seems like a fairytale, until you meet your neighbor, Mr. Cavill...

PART I | PART II | PART III

Martha Lawson had always been curious, maybe too curious.

As you took the last luggage out of your car, you heard a high-pitched voice calling beside you. Ah, you would learn to hate that sound, but it’s another story.

“Hello dear,” Martha sang, ''I saw you moved in yesterday but you know how busy people can be, we didn’t get the chance to meet. I'm Martha by the way, I live across the street, the blue house.''

You looked up from closing the cars door and smiled, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Carrying all these stuffs would be the death of you, and you couldn’t count on Henry or your new desperate-housewife neighbor to help.

“Nice to meet you, Martha.'' you caught your breath, ‘'I'm Y/N.”

The woman smiled back at you, spreading tiny wrinkles around her eyes and cheeks. She was probably in her late fifties, but her surgeon had done a good job, it was undeniable.

“I saw you and Mr. Cavill didn’t really get along, how unfortunate.” Martha said, lowering her voice, ''Oh, I don't mean to overstep. It’s just... don't mind him. He's a bit grumpy these days, it will pass.”

It wasn't a myth then. Desperate housewives living were really the worse gossipers.

“Yeah, I noticed.” you chuckled, “Do you know why ?”

“Ah, probably work, or a woman. How would I know ?”

Martha wasn’t really listening or trying to answer the question. She bent forward, her eyes taking sight of the bandage around your wrist,

“Poor sweet thing, did he hurt you in any way ?’’ Her eyes widened in fear and she looked back at you, concerned.

Your mouth opened and you huffed,

“Oh-this, no ! I...” My hand went through his window, you thought, “It was an accident. I cut myself with broken glass and it was all my fault. Really.”

Martha nodded suspiciously,

“Well then, don't let this attractive devil bother you. If you need anything, you know where to find me.” She winked and pointed at her big house again.

You nodded, thanked her and she walked away. She climbed up the stairs and waved her hand at you before closing the door. At least, she was kind.

Martha had a point : Henry Cavill was attractive. But he was also a pain in the ass.

You had quickly recovered from your little rush of adrenalin and you were now tidying your room, getting rid of the empty boxes that were still on the floor while Henry was making calls to get his window fixed.

Thinking about him and how weird he was, you couldn't help but find your devilish neighbor even more mysterious. He’d really taken care of you earlier. There was even a moment when you thought he was actually cute.

A knock on the door woke you up from your slumber and you stood up. Enough thinking about Mr. Chaos. A little conversation with someone else would distract you from these thoughts.

You opened the door, a light, polite smile curving your lips, but it was Mr Cavill. Again. A fluttery feeling twisted your guts and your smile died faster than a candles flame. This time, he looked upset.

Henry stared at you for a moment longer, enough for you both to feel awkward.

"Hello, again." he chuckled without an ounce of joy, "Glad to see you're... doing better."

A frown came up your forehead and you blushed,

"Oh, yes, I am. Thanks. I mean... Sorry. »

Wait, no, you weren’t sorry for everything…

You were about to correct yourself, but Henry spoke first,

"Apologies accepted. Well, this is embarrassing..." he muttered, "Listen, you broke my window and…"

You cut him off straight, "I know, and I'll pay for it, alright ? I'm sorry, for that." you insisted on the last words, but saw him shake his head as he bit down onto his lower lip,

"The thing is, I can afford a bunch of new windows if it pleases me.” he hummed lowly as if he disapproved your attitude, ‘'The impact made a crack on the main bay window, and now the whole set of windows needs to be replaced."

"What ?" you choked feeling dizzy, "Oh god…"

You didn’t have enough money for this kind of repair. Your hands legs started shaking.

"Please, don’t swoon again.” Henry closed his eyes in frustration, “I’m won’t ask you to pay for the whole thing. But I do need a favor. It will be snowing tomorrow and the guys who were supposed to fix this mess can't come until next Monday."

Your jaw dropped. Next Monday ? He was going to freeze to death.

"Oh shit." you swore, “Ho-how could I help you ? Do you need anything to keep you warm ?" you heard yourself talking and spluttered, "I mean... Not in a way that... Well, you know."

Heart stuttering, you cleared your throat, hating yourself for being so clumsy at that very moment. You rubbed the back of your neck in embarrassment and silence fell between you. Henry’s eyes darkened to the point they almost looked grey in the daylight.

Was it lust in his gaze ?

After a moment, he shrugged, burying his hands into his pockets, "Just a room, would be nice."

“I didn't want it to sound... I didn’t mean anything... physical.” you sighed, avoiding his blue irises.

At first, you remained silent. There were plenty of hotels out there, good and cheap ones. He'd easily find a place to stay. But then your gaze settled on his and the sentence made its way to your brains.

"You want to stay here. At my house." you’d said it out loud, as if waiting for confirmation.

Even though he kept his voice calm and indifferent, Henry uncomfortably shifted on his feet, his usually cold, pale skin tinting with light shades of red,

"Precisely.” he took a step toward you, “I despise hotels, and since I don’t think you can pay for my broken windows, I thought it would be a fair deal." he plunged his gaze into yours and for a moment, you lost yourself into them, “If you meant to keep me warm without anything physical," he repeated your own words, "it shouldn’t be a problem to live like this for a week or two.”

A week or two ? That was a lot. You gulped audibly,

"Don't you have friends for this kind of emergencies ?" you asked, but the question hung in the air and seemed to bother him more than your rejection itself.

Of course, he didn't have any friends. He was Henry Cavill, the devil himself, for god's sake.

It took you a moment to realize what it would involve. Henry living with you, even for just a week, would be a terrible mess.

Oh, no, you couldn't do that.

Or could you ?

On the other side of the street, you noticed Martha Lawson was out. She’d stopped collecting her tomatoes to watch the scene intently. She was probably trying to hear your conversation from the distance.

Slowly, you took a few steps back.

"Listen, let’s try to find a solution. Just... Come inside, before Mrs. Lawson makes up a whole story about us."

Henry swiftly glanced behind him, as if perplexed and he walked in. You closed the door as he did, and you grew even more nervous. His scent invaded your lungs, intoxicating. It was surprising, how you hated and liked it at the same time. Your heart started pounding when you didn't want it to. Your body seemed to follow its own instincts and they weren’t good. As you turned around, you tried to shrug off these unwanted emotions. Absolutely certain you could control them, you finally locked eyes with Henry Cavill. As soon as his blue gaze pounced on yours, you lost it. You lost everything.

Crossing your arms, you tried to sound and appear indifferent, denying the physical attraction, the animal desire that slowly but surely invaded your mind,

"Alright. How... How would we proceed ? We don't get along, you don't like me, and in case you didn't notice, we are more likely to kill each other than to live together."

Eyes absentmindedly wandering around, Henry took a few steps across the living room. Observing, he seemed like he was about to throw another unpleasing comment at you, maybe about the house or its furnitures, but he didn't. Instead, he just turned around to face you,

"I never said I didn't like you." he corrected you, impossibly calmly.

You raised your eyebrows,

"You've been rude to me from the start. And you didn't even feel the need to apologize."

Once more, Henry shrugged. It was his turn to cross his arms against his torso, his attitude displaying the sassiest aspects of his personality in one posture.

"I don't have to. You disturbed me, I told you to stop, you violently punched my window and broke it…"

Oh, god damn you Cavill.

Blood rushing to your head, you were about to jump like a lion and dig your claws deep into the soft skin of his throat to rip his head off.

“Shut up,” you raised your voice, “I got it, we're... different. We have our own opinions on how to behave with other people." you uttered, trying to manage your anger as he played with your nerves, "But apologizing doesn't always mean you're wrong and the other person is right. It just means you value your relationship more than your ego."

Tilting his head, Henry narrowed his eyes and contemplated you,

"My bad," he rasped, "I didn't know we were in a relationship. I apologize, then.”

At his words, you couldn't help but blush instantly.

"That's not what I meant..." you stuttered, but he came closer, his face only a few inches away from yours.

"While you decide the words you wish to speak wisely, Miss Y/L/N, will you or will you not let me live here temporarily, until this damn window you broke gets fixed ?" he asked, the tone of his voice deep and commanding.

Gaze plunged into his, you tried to utter something like a no. Your lips moved as to form the word, but not a sound came out of your mouth. Your heart was racing as if a predator was threatening to bite you, and yet you were completely turned on by the feeling. It didn’t make any sense to you. And it didn't make any sense either that you just nodded at him, accepting his proposition.

"Fine, you can stay."

TAG LIST - OPEN

My Neighbor Tag list : @boiled-onionrings, @sheanaghgoldenheartblog,@allnewimaginecharliehunnam, @drewmcintyreinarefereeoutfit, @mc225g, @supernaturalvikingwhore

Tag list Henry / Geralt : @d14n4ol, @alwayshave-faith

Tag list * Geralt of Rivia : @emmalbg

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onyourzeus · 4 years

Text

raining | kyh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: raining pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you genre: fluff, fictional universe words: 4.4k

was listening to this playlist while writing. author’s note: overwhelmingly cliche, like kdrama levels of it. be forewarned. i am in my youngk feelings tonight, folks. i just wanted to write something sickeningly cute & i think i achieved it lol. do enjoy, regardless.

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

The moment you step outside the door, you immediately regret it. You were never one to love the cold, you actually welcome it— but when signs of heavy rain are bound to happen within the hour or so it’s not advisable for anyone to enjoy a walk outside.

You pull on the ends of your sweaters even more, keeping the tips of your fingers enclosed in the warmth of the fabric. A slight yet wintry breeze whispers against your ear and you shiver involuntarily. It was a win-win situation to cover your head with the hoodie as your hair had seen better days before, and it keeps you extra protected from the cold.

The convenience store was a mere ten to fifteen walk from your street, it shouldn’t be a big deal. So here you are, shuddering in house clothes, trudging your way to the nearest mart to snag yourself a cup of noodles or two, and maybe buy a drink to keep you toasty on the way back.

Hands tucked in between your sides, you briskly make your way to your destination. At eight in the evening on a weeknight, there seems to be a couple of people enjoying a chilly stroll outside.

Well, the only difference is that they’re all dressed for the occasion: thick coats, thicker scarves, and an overwhelming sense of excitement for this weather.

“They better go home soon before it starts to rain,” you mumble under your breath, costing a fog to escape in front of you. It looks nice, though, that they have one or another person accompanying them tonight. Some with hands held tight and others just comfortably walking side by side.

The sudden chattering of your teeth makes you question your bitter sentiment. You decide not to think about it any further as you approach the blinding lights of the convenience store.

Pushing the door open with some elbow grease (they really need to replace that), you’re welcomed with a whiff of plastic packaged items, coffee brewing on the side, and the silent hum of cash registers at the front.

You’re starting to feel the heat of the inside replace your slight shivering, but you ought to keep the hood on and make the trip as fast as possible.

Walking towards the ramen aisle, your eyes widen at the sheer possibilities of microwavable meals you can have tonight: curry-flavored, spicy seafood, extra hot with three Xs, it’s shameful that you find these all so appealing.

Before your mouth waters embarrassingly, you grab three cups of your choice and cradle them in one hand securely. Moving over to the chilled section, you check the price of a small container of kimchi to see if you’re lucky enough to spice up your dinner for tonight.

Unfortunately, you don’t think it fits your budget, recalling that you just grabbed a couple of coins from the counter before leaving the apartment.

Somehow, while being preoccupied by the fact that you can’t have any kimchi, your head collides against someone’s back. In the most awkward encounter that can happen, cups of noodles drop on the floor. Your hoodie falls off your head, revealing the hair you’re trying to keep away from the public.

With heated cheeks, you apologize profusely to this person’s back, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I wasn’t looking!” You don’t even wait for them to turn around as you quickly bend down and grab your items.

He picks them up before you do.

You get a glimpse of him in the seconds he’s bent down; his hair parted in the middle with a little curl to them, roots are dark brown but everything else of a faded grey, his thick brown coat nicely shaping his shoulders, and as he slowly stand upright you have a clear view of a black turtleneck that hugs his neck perfectly, and his face—

“No worries, it happens,” he tells you casually, holding onto your dropped items. His eyes are slanted and yet you see gentleness in them. As he gives you a small smile, you notice his high cheekbones protruding from such graceful features.

The sudden warmth emanating from your thrift-store find sweater makes your face feel like it’s about to erupt from embarrassment. You scramble over to grab your cup of noodles from his grasp, grazing the skin on his hands. Even that sensation felt so soft for such a short period of interaction.

You do need to go out and see people more.

“T-thanks,” you manage to blurt out. From all the apparent staring you’ve done in the past minute or so, you find your eyes glued on the floor intensely.

“Excuse me…” you trail off almost inaudibly, but he gives you space in the aisle you’ve collided so you can stand in line for the register.

It felt like an eternity being face to face with him as people have formed a queue to pay already, but you will yourself not to look back. It was a… lucky accident?

If you can call it that— you still look like you haven’t unearthed yourself from your hermit cave for months. And him— well, to put it frankly, he just looked unreal to be sauntering his way at a local convenience store.

You shake your head, quickly pull up your hoodie once again and tighten the straps a little bit more forcefully this time.

It’s hard to hide the shame, but at least your hair will be out of sight again.

Impatiently, you tap your foot with the sound of the clock on the wall. Some problem of some kind with the scanner up front was causing the line to lag, and not to say so first-world problem-haver, but the less time you spend in here, the more time you can scream into your pillow back home.

A stretch of the neck, you look up, down, and side to side. On your left, your eyes catch something too familiar.

Something in the universe is clearly toying with you because as soon as you crane your head just a tad bit further, you find the same gorgeous man standing behind you. He’s looking somewhere else, eyes pointed in the distance and his lips pursed together in thought.

Why. Is He. So. Cute. Just standing there like that?

“Hi,” you see his lips move, voice low but friendly. “Your ramen alright there?”

“Me?” you squeak out. His eyes train themselves on you, and for a second he looks just as confused. But he comes back with a short laugh, and you feel like shrinking into dust.

But it doesn’t sound like he’s laughing at you, it wasn’t mean or said with a grimace at all.

He nods his head confirming your silly question and adds, “Yes, the ones you’re holding onto for dear life in there.”

“These?” you ask again, like a complete dysfunctional human machine. “Oh, um— yeah. They’re fine. Hahaha,” you reply and you sound nervous.

You shouldn’t be, he’s asking a legitimate question and you’re making it out to be like an interrogation! Snap out of it, reprimanding yourself in the head. This is not how you talk to people at all.

“Good.” He continues smiling at you, but his eyes shift elsewhere. Well, that’s probably your cue to stop this uncomfortable situation for yourself, and for his good as well.

But he’s still talking, and addressing you it seems.

“I think it’s your turn.”

“Hi, I can take your stuff right here, miss.”

“Yes, please! Thanks,” you hurry off to the front, out of breath and out of words left to speak.

There was no point to keep looking back, you’ve done your part acting the way you did. Maybe you should have just waited until tomorrow to get groceries, you would have benefitted from sleeping in earlier than showcasing how clumsy you can be to a complete stranger. (Not to mention someone your type.)

The employee speedily checks out your items and puts them in a paper bag. She asks if there was anything else you’d like, and you contemplate on the hot coffee that you wanted. You pull out the coins and one lone paper bill you had in your pockets to assess if it’s within your budget.

“Is this enough for what I got?” you lay out your change and then some on the counter. It may be your imagination, but it feels like the guy behind you is watching. You shift to the side slightly to hide the fact that you’re paying with coins.

She glances at your choice of payment, and says words that could literally be the cause of your death tonight. “I’m sorry, do you have an extra fifty cents? These would only pay for three of your cup noodles, miss.”

Robbed of one, already cheap choice of dinner tonight, her voice seemed to increase in volume revealing your insufficient amount of cash on hand to everyone in the store.

She watches as you blink your eyes tight, face squirming hard.

“It’s okay… I’ll just get those that I can pay for,” you respond meekly, and she nods. You don’t hear anything else anymore, maybe she was offering a coupon or whatever, you had one mission and one thing in mind only: get the hell out of there.

You take the paper bag, bow your head in thanks, and head out the door faster than you can realize that the rain had started pouring hard for what seemed like a few minutes prior.

Now your sweater is drenched, your paper bag is starting to crumble from the bottom, and you didn’t bring an umbrella.

Nor do you have any money or phone with you to call a cab to your apartment.

In an effort to keep some parts of you not wet, you keep to yourself just barely outside of the store where the roof is still hanging; just enough to cover half of your body from the pouring rain. It’s amazing, you think, what absolute god must you have angered for you to be stuck in something so stupid like this?

You can’t go back in the store, the guy is still there— suddenly you realize with a panic in your heart. He’ll see you here, right next to the door, waiting for the rain to stop once he exits out of the store.

Either way, he’ll recognize you, and to pity you or laugh at you secretly, it’s his choice now. It’s his right to, you wouldn’t care anymore.

Let the clown music reverberate in your ears, it’s an anthem you’d proudly sing amidst pouring rain.

With your thoughts seeming to come to life for the nth time, the door opens with an annoying chime, and as you look up it’s him, of course, it’s him.

But he’s not laughing nor does it look like he’s just going to avoid your sorry figure. He stands next to you, opens up his black umbrella at an arm’s reach and puts it over both your heads. His shoulders touch your wet sweater, and you’re inclined to move away but the umbrella can only cover a tiny area.

You hold in a breath, afraid when you exhale he’d see panic written all over your face.

“You okay?”

You nod, keeping your gaze forward, into the dim surroundings and the pitter patter of the night sky.

“Do you have any means of going home?” He asks again, and you’re sure he’s looking at you.

“I was planning on walking…” you finally quip, quiet and unsure of yourself. “Once the rain stops,” you let out a shaky breath. Frankly, you feel more stressed out than nervous at this point.

He doesn’t strike you as a man with malicious intent so far, and if he were to rob you right here right now, well — he should know, of all people in this store (aside from the cashier) that there’s nothing of value with you at the moment. You’re basically of no value as far as you can tell.

Sad.

“It doesn’t look like it’s stopping anytime soon,” he says, and you take a quick peek at him. He scans the surroundings, eyes focused and eyebrows knitted together. He looks back at you, and you’re frozen in place.

“Let me call a cab for you,” he tells you with concern.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” you say frantically, dismissing him with one hand. The other was still holding the wet paper bag against your chest, and you feel it dampening your sweater each second that passes by. “I can just wait it out in the store.”

He continues to look at you as he pouts, and you stand there next to him feeling small. You appreciate his kindness, really, but you know a guy dressed like that has better places to be at and you’re here slowing him down.

“Honestly, it’s okay,” you try and ease his worries, but he doesn’t look convinced. “I live, like, fifteen minutes away. I have nothing else to do at home, so there’s no reason for me to be back so soon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you urge on, smiling at his politeness. “Besides, I don’t want to keep you here. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Nonsense. It should be the rain apologizing to us,” he says with a tsk.

You can’t help but giggle at his silly remark. He’s handling this stress-free while you haven’t stopped sweating since he stood beside you with the umbrella.

“How about this, I give you my umbrella—” you start to protest but he puts a finger up, coaxing you to bite your lip to keep it shut. “— so that you can walk home without getting rained on too much, and I’ll call myself a cab.”

It was a tempting offer, but not quite reasonable to you yet.

It’s the generosity he’s offering which shouldn’t be too much of a surprise, in fact, you should feel relieved. But your guard is still up, even if the rain isn’t letting up itself anytime soon.

If you keep declining him, who knows how much more patience he has to appease your feigning grandiose modesty?

“I’d pay for your cab if I had money with me right now,” you admit shyly. “Unless you’re comfortable with an online transfer, I’d have to know your information...” It was a stretch because maybe at that point you’d learn of his name, but you didn’t want to go too far.

“Don’t worry about me for a moment. You can take my umbrella, and I can take a cab. We get home safely, with one of us less drenched unfortunately, but everything will work out in the end. Deal?” His proposition sounds so firm and settled that you had no reason to deny him anymore.

So you relent, much to your own benefit, too. “Fine.”

He chuckles at your unintentional curt response. You correct yourself, “I mean— thank you, for the umbrella. Sorry, I was just stupid to go out without one, knowing it was gonna rain sooner than later.”

“Happens to the best of us,” he chuckles again while pulling something out of his own paper bag. You recognize it immediately, the cup noodles you had to let go of.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have—”

“There you go again, rejecting what I’m putting down here,” he chastises. “It would be a shame if,” he looks at the label before continuing, “Savory Shiitake Soup was left out unwillingly with his other cup noodle pals.”

You stop yourself from internally cringing at how he read it so slowly, as if he’s never had cup ramen in his life. You’d believe it, too, but then again he’s the one parading his sophisticated looks in a local store at a random town.

“I stick to the basic kinds,” he explains, seeing the meek surprise on your face.

It is almost twenty degrees out yet your body temperature is steaming hot. You admit defeat (to yourself) and open up the paper bag so he can put the cup inside. Secretly, you’re thankful the whole gang is in there which makes your stomach grumble all of a sudden. And he hears it.

“I take it, it's almost dinnertime,” he points out.

“Shut up,” you say, lips pouting. To a stranger.

He laughs at the bluntness. “It’s the perfect meal for a weather like this. If you have any eggs at home, I recommend cracking one in right before you eat it.”

“Yes!” You exclaim loudly, eyes shining with interest.

You’ve always done that with your ramen, albeit you hear of some people’s disgust over such a technique.

“I do have eggs at home, thank god, but I can’t believe you do it that way too,” you disclose. It makes the soup eggy and more creamy, what can you say?

“I add a drop of chili oil for added spice on mine, that really seals the deal for me,” you continue, feeling a little less uptight being next to him. However, the moment you uttered those words, his face grimaces for a second as he gulps and nods absently at you.

“You’re not a spicy guy yourself?” It comes out before you register what those words could mean otherwise.

He doesn’t catch it or at least, he doesn’t mind. He laughs again, and the gleeful contrast of his voice to the harsh rain is somewhat giving you warmth inside.

(And not the sweaty kind.)

“Not in regards to food, sadly no,” he says. “My friends tolerate it better than I do, so whenever I have the chance to cook for them I have to separate their portions if the recipe called for some kick to it.”

“You cook?”

“I try to,” he implies sheepishly, cheekbones turning up with the way he grins. It was endearing, watching him explain how it’s become a hobby of his for the past few months and that his roommates have benefited as a result.

All the food talk continues to make you hungrier, but the way he shares personal stories all of a sudden is a delightful experience for you. His eyes glint animatedly when he recalls the time when two of his friends fought over leftover bulgogi, in which he had no choice but to make some more. At two in the morning.

You listen intently, and laugh when he reaches the punchline and prideful banter about the people he seemed to deeply care about. It didn’t even matter how hard hitting the rain felt against the ground, you were actually covered quite expansively by the umbrella.

In return, you quickly notice that the side of his coat has been drenched all this time. Instinctively, you pull at the sleeve of his clothing, surprising him by the movement as you butt heads for a moment. It wasn’t hard, but it definitely paused the natural flow of conversation you two were having.

“You’ve had the umbrella mostly on me this whole time,” you chide almost regretting doing so, “Sorry.”

“It’s just clothes,” he chuckles upon realizing what just happened, but afterwards his smile returns. “Thanks for looking out for me, though.”

You feel yourself smiling too wide from that comment.

You think of something to say before you get too comfortable with this feeling, and then you remember: “You haven’t booked your way home yet.”

“Oh! You’re right,” he says a little too quickly, and you feel a twinge of disappointment weighting in your stomach at how fast he reacted to that.

Of course, at the end of the day, he’s just stuck with you due to some unlucky situation you found yourself in. He’s just doing you a favor.

He checks his phone for a few minutes, the light illuminating on his face. You notice the hard lines of his jaw and the curvature of his nose a bit more definitely now, and it’s amazing how one person can look like that.

This time, you reprimand yourself from staring too much and so you watch the people passing by again. Hand in hand, raincoats and umbrellas in their grasp as they fight against the current of the rain.

“Okay, I just finished booking it on the app. It says it should arrive in less than five minutes,” he brings you out of your reverie.

“That’s great to hear,” you say with as much enthusiasm as you can. You eye the handle of the umbrella in which his hand has been gripping all this time. You know you’re soon to be left with it, alone, as he rides the cab and finally part ways with you.

“I can keep holding on to this until it gets here,” he says, almost reading your mind. “I hope it is of good use to you tonight, and in the near future.”

“I’ll keep it safe and useful, of course,” you say, feeling the pit of your stomach get heavier and heavier. You’re not sure what it is, or you’re probably in denial. You start to count the seconds in your head, imagining how to tell him goodbye and perhaps… never seeing him again.

You don’t even know his name.

“I’m Younghyun— before I forget,” yet again, he hears the pleas in your mind and you ought to keep the thoughts silent as he suspiciously introduces himself.

“I’ve been exposing my friends’ and their ways of borderline gluttony to you, I haven’t even given you my name yet.”

Younghyun, you repeat in your head. Your lips curl upward at the sound of his name, it suits him well.

“Do you mind if I can get yours as well?” It was a polite question, nothing out of the ordinary of two people meeting each other for the first time.

But Younghyun seemed to have other, further plans from that. His phone is still on, and it’s facing in your direction. Looking down, you see that he has an unfilled out contact information on the screen.

“Oh,” you mumble out loud, not wanting for it to sound too pleasantly surprised. He takes it the other way, however, as he tries to retract his phone. “Sorry, I thought— I just wanted to know if you got home safely and—”

“No, please! It’s okay. I’d— um, I don’t have my phone on me right now but I can text my number if that’s alright with you,” you explain quickly before he can put it back in his pocket.

With an openly relieved expression, Younghyun changes the app to his messages and gives you his phone. You type in something easy to recognize in addition to your name on it, and send it to your number. Right as you give it back to him, a car with its headlights on park upfront, beaming the two of you with its brightness.

“I guess that’s my ride,” Younghyun hesitates. “I know it seems odd, but I really enjoyed talking to you despite…,” he finishes by looking at the puddle forming underneath where you both stand. You agree with a hearty laugh, the uneasiness you feel inside dissipating.

“Thank you, for the umbrella. And my cheap shiitake noodles,” you humor him, but your words are laced with sincerity.

He hands you the umbrella, enclosing his fingers over yours as you grip onto the handle tightly. His hand is just the right temperature, cozy and warm. It immediately sends your head reeling.

“Are you sure you don’t want to share the ride with me? I think I’ve proven enough to you that I’m just a beginner in the kitchen, and not an evil person,” Younghyun suggests. You nudge him just enough to tip him over the edge, playful and amicable on your end.

“I’ll text you, I promise. Is that good enough for you, Younghyun?” With the sound of his name coming from you, lips widen in the most cheerful grin he’s shared to you today.

If you’re being really honest with yourself, you feel a little special.

“You better stay true to your words.”

“Go home, Younghyun!”

You watch his ride pull out of the parking lot, and drive into the night. It’s funny because the rain went from hazardous conditions to gentle whispers of droplets which makes walking back home easier for you, probably even without an umbrella.

But you hold onto it tight, knowing that Younghyun had his hands on the same spot makes you squeal like a teenage girl on the way home. You walk faster than normal, pools of water on the pavement splashing at the ends of your sweatpants. It’s disgusting, you most likely need to change completely, but it was far from your concern.

You get home and head straight for your bed where your phone was, disregarding the drenched clothes you have on dripping on the sheets.

The text from Younghyun’s number came through, and inspecting further he texts you two more times.

You giggle, finally letting out giddy feelings where no one can judge you. You text him back.

And you think that’s the end for today, and you think of things to say for tomorrow that wouldn’t make you seem like you’re overstepping it. But your phone vibrates in your hand, and your eyes stare at his quick response.

Your heart pounds in your chest; it’s heavy, weighing down on you but for completely different reasons.

You plop down on your bed head first, pillow against your cheek. You actually do it, you scream. Not of what you thought you’d be doing, but the complete opposite.

Before you pass out in excitement, you manage a reply.

You do end up staying up late at night, eating your well deserved hot cup of noodles. But the laptop isn’t on, and you decide you can catch up on shows some other time.

You and Younghyun text the night away, it’s not awkward anymore. You feel yourself easing up to his banter through messages and gifs which you try to one up him every so often.

The rain had stopped sometime in the night, and instead your heart continued to pound heavily in your chest. It was exhilarating, to say the least, but you welcomed the feeling of having something to look forward to.

You remind yourself to not only do groceries tomorrow, but also do your laundry. (You never got to change into something more dry that night.)

#young k scenarios #young k imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 imagines #brian kang imagines #brian kang scenarios #young k x reader #young k au #day6 au #by:jiae

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

The Crane Team: Raise a Glass

In the rundown part of Tokyo, there were nothing but convenient stores, used furniture shops, pharmacies and dental clinics. People were stacked end to end in coffin like apartments, one hundred to a building that would more comfortably fit forty units. Yet this was Japan, so it was still clean. Old people walked the streets that they had walked for years. But there were no fancy shops, no neon lights and no young people save those that went to the internet cafe to play on the better hardware.

Yoko insisted that Crow take a more modest car, so as not to stand out, even though it was not bulletproof.

“Plus it will show that you feel safe here.” She said.

“I’m not safe here though.”

“You are with me.” She smiled at him. He’d been chain smoking the whole way. “Besides, only the owner of the building is an actual Ghost, and he’s already in black prison. It’s just his son here now.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” Crow grumbled, putting the car into park.

“Okay, real talk? Yeah you’re going to turn some heads. People are going to get riled up. It’s just how you handle it! Just pretend it’s nothing and don’t shy away or look guilty. But don’t be belligerent either. Just smile! If you’re not sure what to say, just don’t say anything.”

Crow gaved his head a stressed scratch. “Alright! Let’s do this!” He grunted as he got out of the car.

It was late in the evening, not quite sundown but the bar was already full of patrons. The voices spilled out when she opened the door, ringing the little bell and walked right inside.

Crow kept his eyes forward, despite the fact that the chatter noticeably died down.

Yoko grinned and lowered her hands in a quietening gesture. “Easy, he’s with me.” She said in casual japanese likely learned from rubbing shoulders with the Devil Clan.

People were seated around round wooden tables with saucers of sake, playing cards and dice. Nothing had really replaced Bliss Hall. The Devil Clan still ran gambling establishments but they were scattered hole-in-the-wall places like this.

Yoko displayed a cool, easy confidence that Crow did not feel as she greeted the bartender who gave him a dark look.

“Shouta… I know what you’re thinking. But stop thinking about it. He’s not like some you might have met.”

Crow would have disputed that if he didn’t have such a huge target on his back. He was already counting the likely hidden firearms, as well as hidden exits and places that might block heavy ammunition. But even with this knowledge, he was in a pit of vipers and it was unlikely he’d escape without injury.

“Besides, I bring good news! My budget for the appeals process in the legal department has been approved. Which means, I will be able to hire a few folks from here to go work on getting people out of prison. I just need a name and a number where you can be reached. I’ll be the contact so I won’t share it with anyone else, same as always.” The last words were spoken with a soft sigh.

“You mean you wanna come in here and hire folks to work for Hydra?” The bartender Shouta put a bottle down in front of Yoko and pointedly ignored Crow.

“It’s not working for Hydra. It’s working for yourself and taking Hydra’s money. The cases you’ll be working on will be for Devil Clan members. You’ll be making sure they get a fair shake. It’s easier than running back and forth between the two of you. And you’ll be paid enough to live on your own in Tokyo.” Yoko popped the top off her bottle. “Crow, go ahead and order. Don’t be shy.”

“I’ll have what she’s having.” Crow said, his posture still guarded.

She wrote down a slip of paper and slid it over to the bartender who looked at it.

Everyone in the bar turned to the bartender who nodded. “Pretty good.”

“Is she for real?” One of the patrons spoke up. “Where will we be working?” A bright eyed young man with a ponytail and a stubble goatee wobbled up to the bar.

“Oh hey… Ryuusei…” Yoko leaned back away from him. “Right in Genji Heavy Industries.”

“Nice!” Ryuusei said. “Hah. I can’t wait to thumb my nose at these execs! Should I buy a nice suit? Heehee.” He looked over at Crow. “I’m Ryouma Ryuusei. Soon to be your coworker!”

Crow was deadpan. “You have to get hired first…”

“Wait… wait… let me see.” Another one got up and looked at the paper curiously. “Wow! Do we get paid that much? That’s way better than slaving down at the drycleaners. Man, finally I won’t have to work with my parents and maybe… just maybe I can move out?” He sighed and then blinked at Crow. “Oh… I’m Hayato.” He bowed politely to him. He looked barely sixteen. “What do we have to do?’

“Just follow up on the cases and hound the legal department to get things done.”

“You mean we’ll be telling those bastards what to do?” A deep voice boomed. “Sign me up! I’ll work full time!”

“Hey you have to be polite, Koki!” Yoko cut in.

‘Koki’ stomped up to the bar and tossed down a card.

That seemed to break the ice. In a few minutes, Yoko gathered more than two dozen business cards. “Thanks guys. I’ll be in touch. Also, for being good sports about my friend here, drinks are on the house!”

That seemed to excite them and the mood lifted instantly. She smiled over at Crow as everyone put in orders. Then she looked at the barkeep who was still unmoved.

“What about the Black Prison?” The man asked.

“I’m still working on that. One step at a time, please.”

“We don’t exactly have a lot of time.” The bartender answered back.

The mood in the room dampened.

Ryuusei, Hayato and Koki all gave Shouta the bartender a thumbs down. “Money is money and we need money!” They said in unison.

Yoko sighed. “And that’s no way to talk, Shouta. I didn’t think I’d make it to 20 years old. And I still might not for other reasons. But you can’t think that way and expect a reversal of fortune. I still dream of finding a nice handsome man and settling down and having a lovely wedding and raising my kids!”

“Maybe you can raise my kids?” Ryuusei leaned over at her.

She pushed him away laughing brightly. “You have to get a job first! You can’t expect to live off my paycheck! And that’s just step one!”

“What’s step two?” He asked, not giving up.

“You’re gonna need to get a scholarship to Cassell College. I’m not dating a drop out! As much as I love Japan, I’m not staying here. I have a world to see and promises to keep! I’ve earned my days after all! Once I’ve finished rebuilding the Japan branch with my two hands, I’ll have earned all the more.”

“Hey…” The men around her said with some annoyance.

“It’ll be all me unless you guys step up.” She looked down at them haughtily through her lashes.

“Of course, I’ll step up!” Koki reached for another bottle that Shouta seamlessly slid over to him. “It’s just that I’ll just have to learn to keep my fists at bay! Those Hydras won’t have a nose to look down on me if they keep it up.”

“Don’t ruin it for me though... “ Hayato said softly. “I don’t want to get fired with you.”

Shouta sighed. “You people… fine, get your hopes up. I hope it does work out. I really do. But Hydra and Devils have never gotten along. Don't buy in too much. When things break apart, you don't want them to know where to find you.”

“Come on, Shouta!” Yoko pleaded. “Don’t kill the mood! Koki can stay out of trouble, Ryuusei will keep brown-nosing me and Hayato just wants to get a good job. If we want the Japan Branch to run independently and we can’t do that without throwing our hats into the game! You are part of the Japan Branch. No more of this Hydra versus Devil Clan… it’s just Japan from now on!” Yoko cheered, raising her bottle. “To conquering Japan!”

“To conquering Japan!” They all chorused.

“To conquering Japan!” The bottles of cheap beer clinked and the mood in the bar was downright festive.

Yoko had no idea how big the tab was getting. Hybrids were rough drinkers and she swore there were more people in the bar than when she first announced all the drinks were on her. But she smiled over at a still sober Crow who had relaxed considerably.

Yoko looked different to him. Far from the serious faced woman, she looked more like she actually was, a young college girl out on the town, drinking with her friends. It made sense that she was more at home with the Devil Clan. It was likely true between her and Cassell as well.

She stood up. “It’s true that not everyone we remember can be with us tonight, but we can say because we’re here tonight, we can have another round for them. Right! Serve us another Shouta!” Her eyes sparkled at the barkeep who was finally getting infected by her charm, no doubt persuaded by the healthy tab she was racking up.

“We’ll be able to tell them all about it once they get out. And then we’ll have another round with them!” She added, hiccuping. “On this round, let’s raise a glass to our future! It’s so bright we have to wear shades!”

She handed a bottle to Crow who accepted it with a smile. Shouta raised his own bottle and together, they all drank.

#Dragon Raja

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

Hi! I wanted to say that I really love your blog! And you post so regularly like xhxjaj soo I hope I am doing this correctly bUT -how fucked up would be clumsy, student darling with schoolnurse yandere? You know, they say that he's really soft, nice and perfect for his job, but is he? or maybe the darling never actually was clumsy, but then why is she falling down the stairs so often~? Have a good day and take care! ❤❤

One day, I’m going to get tired of writing for faceless OCs before never thinking about them again. That day is not today. Assume this is, like, a fancy, private boarding school, so our Yandere will be able to afford to keep a Darling.

TW: Unintentional Drug Use and Emotional Manipulation.

You’ve been getting headaches, recently.

It was a minor inconvenience, honestly, something you shouldn’t have been fazed by. There were people in the hospital with terminal diseases, others lost limbs to illnesses, and here you were, complaining about a steady drumming somewhere in your skull, the pain just barely enough to make you grit your teeth and consider avoiding bright lights. But, it was still pain, very consistent, very intense pain. The kind that made your thoughts blur together and your movements sluggish, your craving for a dark, silent room quickly becoming greater than any you held for food or water. Maybe if they only lasted for a few minutes, you’d be able to brush it off, but you’d been through this too many times to be that optimistic. You’d have to skip your next class. The rest of the day, probably.

You’d have to see him again.

There wasn’t anything wrong with the school nurse, or... Bailey, as he insisted you call him. He was young, sure, only having graduated a couple years before you enrolled, but he was polite, and more than willing to accept poorly-forged passes and half-hearted excuses for any vague, temporary sickness students came to him with. You didn’t have a reason to lie, the pale pink slip in your hand genuine and unwanted, but as you pushed open the old, wooden door to his clinic, you almost wished you had something worse. An open wound, one bad enough to need stitches, or a knee-buckling, excruciating pain that let your instructors send you back to your dorm without a second thought. Instead, you were left to shift your weight and read the brightly-colored, informational posters hanging on every available surface, Bailey not seeming to care for plain walls.

It took Bailey a few seconds to notice you, the man preoccupied with something on his desk. The clinic was a cramped space, with just enough room for a table, a handful of cots and curtains, and a rolling chair that must’ve used up most of Bailey’s funding. You cringed as you took in the florescent lights, and that seemed to catch Bailey’s attention, his chair creaking as he twisted around to see you. You nodded politely as he took in your hunched posture and disheveled uniform, only to finish his evaluation with a simple nod. “(Y/n),” He greeted, already reaching towards one of the cabinets above his desk. “There should be an open cot near the back, lie down. Migraines again?”

“I don’t really need to. It‘s just a headache,” You explained, but your protests were barely audible. By the time you hauled yourself past him, you were ready to collapse, all-but throwing yourself onto the thin, cheap mattress. Your head was pounding, by now, a rhythm forming between the aches and throbs and red-hot bolts being driven into your skull. You curled into yourself as soon as you were able to, your dignity discarded in favor of blocking out the light and wallowing in your own self-pity. “Just a really, really bad headache. I shouldn’t have--”

“You shouldn’t have left class?” He chuckled, lightly, finding the pill bottle he was looking for. The container was the non-descript type, plain and colorless, with just the prescription’s name and a tablet count in boring, black ink. Your family had sent it, after they were told about your ‘issue’, even if you never told them about your little medical problem directly. You didn’t care enough to pry, though, not when you were desperate enough to need them. “You’re the only patient I have who wants to be stuffed inside a lecture hall, and something’s actually wrong with you! If I didn’t know you were such an academic, I’d be insulted.”

“I don’t want my grades to drop.” It was a pathetic excuse at keeping up the conversation, but Bailey just hummed, standing slowly and making his way to your cot. He was still smiling as he handed over the two thick, circular pills you were looking for, and you swallowed them down without hesitation, barely noticing the chalky residue they left on your tongue. You fell back onto your side as the pain began to reside, replaced by a cool, crisp exhaustion, one you welcomed without hesitation.

That was usually where Bailey took his leave, laughing and making a comment about your dependence before returning to paperwork and leaving you to your misery, but you weren’t alarmed when he took a seat at your side instead, a palm coming to rest on your shoulder. You couldn’t be, not really. You were too relieved to worry. “Such a little busy-body,” He started, his demeanor soft, gentle. It was nice, and you melted into it quickly. “All this is probably caused by stress, y’know. The headaches would probably go away if you took a break every now and then.”

You shook your head, weakly, and Bailey took to combing through your hair, pushing it away from your face. “I‘m not stressed… I like being busy. I’m used to it.”

“You like burning yourself out.” There was a slight tug, just strong enough to make you whimper and fight the temptation to push him back. Another laugh, this one much less hidden than the last. “You’re going to a university after you graduate, aren’t you?” You nodded, opening your mouth to clarify, but he continued before you had the chance to speak. He didn’t seem very interested in the specifics of your response. “More stress, honey, that’s more stress. And I’m not going to be here to take care of you, anymore.”

You frowned. More stress meant more headaches, more of this. Bailey still sounded happy, but you couldn’t tell if he was smiling. You were too tired to open your eyes. “Will it hurt?”

“Of course it’ll hurt. As long as I’m not there, everything will hurt.” He pulled away, leaving you to lazily search for his warmth. Luckily, Bailey only left you to suffer for a moment. Just as you considered pushing yourself up, an arm wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him and letting you rest your head in his lap, where he was free to stare at and play with whatever he’d like, and you could burrow into something soft, ignoring the apprehension beginning to surface inside your chest. The world was fuzzy and quiet and warm, and nothing could go wrong, not if you were in the clinic. “You’re a good kid, but you won’t behave, you won’t stop being such a try-hard unless someone else gives you a chance to. You need to relax, and let me handle this for you. The world is cold, and it’s brutal. You don’t want to be on your own in that kind of chaos, do you?”

Your reply came in the form of a wordless, abstract whine, this time, something dark and loving slowly taking over your consciousness. You weren’t falling asleep. You didn’t want to sleep. You wanted to be held and comforted and cared for, as long as it meant you didn’t have to move. That felt like a death sentence, now. How’d you gotten here without breaking?

Bailey’s voice was so sweet, too, with all the delicate, practiced inflections and tones of someone who’d done this many times before. That of a caretaker looking for his next project.

“All you have to do is leave the hard work to me,” He assured, cupping your cheek. You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. “It’d be a shame if something bad had to happen to my favorite patient.”

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enchantedlokii · 4 years

Text

Demons

Chapter One: Shooting Stars

Rating: PG

Warnings: mentions of death, depression

Characters: Peter Parker, Karen, Happy Hogan

Mentioned: May Parker, Tony Stark, Ben Parker, Pepper Potts, Morgan Stark, James Rhodes, Mr. Delmar

Peter lied on the roof of a skyscraper, looking up at the stars. He had his suit on; his old suit, not the metal one. He couldn’t bear to put it back on. He had his mask on only so he could talk to Karen, but that didn’t stop the ringing noise that let him know he was getting a call. He sighed and sat up, pulling his knees to his chest. “Answer.”

“Hey, Kid,” Happy started as soon as the phone clicked. “I was just calling to check on you. See how you’re doing.”

“Hey, Happy,” he replied, forcing himself to sound cheerful. He knew that Happy was worried about him, but he didn’t dare open up to him. Because he couldn’t get close to the man. It would only put him at risk. It was hard, though. Especially now that he was around more. If not for him, then for May.

He had to be grateful for the man. He had helped them get back on their feet after the Blip. Peter has quickly learned that May was also among those who turned to dust, which meant that they had lost their apartment and their source of income. Most of their stuff had been locked away in a storage unit. Happy told him that Tony had him be there for the whole ordeal to make sure nothing was damaged in the process. Happy had also assured them they could have all the money they needed until May had a secure job again that could support both of them. While May was reluctant to accept the offer, she didn’t have many other options.

As time went on, Happy and May started to grow closer. Peter wanted to be happy for May, but it hurt in more ways than one. Not only did he not want to get too close to Happy, but he also felt like it was betraying Ben to allow another man to be in May’s life. He didn’t want him to be replaced by anyone. He was the only man that Peter would ever see as his uncle and May’s significant other. He just couldn’t fathom her being with anyone else. Even if that other person was Happy Hogan.

Still, he played nice. He could never be mean to Happy. Not after all that the man had done for him. He may have acted like he didn’t like Peter before, but it was evident now that he did have a growing soft spot for the boy. In Peter’s eyes, it was dangerous.

“I’m doing okay. Went on patrol tonight. Now I’m just looking for shooting stars,” he told him, laying back again. He wanted to go on and keep talking about the stars, but he didn’t want to bore the man. He knew that he got tired of his ramblings after the dozens of voicemails Peter left him in the past.

“Yeah? Have you seen any yet?” Happy asked. Peter was a bit surprised by his interest, but acted as if it didn’t affect him. He couldn’t let Happy know that it mattered to him.

“Not yet,” he replied.

Happy hummed in reply before changing the subject. “Pepper wanted me to ask if you’re still coming over this weekend,” he told him.

Peter was quiet for a minute, closing his eyes. Most of his weekends since the Blip had been spent upstate. When he didn’t stay with Pepper and Morgan, he was at the Compound helping rebuild. The others had assured him he didn’t have to help, but he had insisted. He wanted to help, and it kept his mind off of everything else in his life. It also protected Pepper and Morgan. It stopped him from getting too attached to them. From putting them in danger.

“Yeah, if it’s still okay I’ll be there,” he replied finally. He hoped that his hesitance didn’t raise any suspicions with Happy. “If not I’m sure I could go help at the Compound, or just stay home for the weekend. I’m okay with whatever. I just know Morgan likes to see me.”

“The rest of us like to see you too,” Happy reminded him.

Peter snorted slightly. “You say that like you won’t be with May while I’m not home,” he teased lightly. Happy was rarely at the cabin when Peter visited. Especially since Christmas. He knew that the two took advantage of the time he was away to have some privacy. Honestly, he didn’t blame them. He would like the time away from him too.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t like to see you, Brat,” Happy replied. Peter could imagine him rolling his eyes. “But Pepper and Rhodey like having you around too, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean,” Peter replied. He liked seeing them too, but he knew that he couldn’t let them know that. He couldn’t make it obvious that he cared about them. Any of them. Because then they would be in danger and he would never be able to forgive himself. “I’ll be there after school.”

“Great,” Happy replied. “You should head home and get some rest, Pete. It’s getting pretty late.”

Peter sighed softly. That was something else that was new. Happy had started to look out for him more, making sure he didn’t get hurt on patrol, encouraging him to take care of himself. While he appreciated it, it reminded him of how Tony would call if he stayed out too late and, in his own way, encourage him to go home and get some rest. In other words, he would threaten to fly to Queens and carry him to his apartment if he wasn’t out of the suit in ten minutes.

“You alright, Kid?” Happy asked when it took him a minute to reply. Peter could hear the worry in his tone and mentally cursed himself.

“I’m fine, Happy,” he told him. “You’re right. I should probably head home.”

“Let me know when you make it, okay?” Happy pressed. “Do you need me to drive you up tomorrow?”

“No, you don’t have to,” Peter told him. “May’s going to take me. Says she was going to talk to Pepper for a bit. Don’t ask me what about because I have absolutely no idea.”

Honestly, Peter was glad that the women got along well. He knew that Pepper had felt guilty at first offering for Peter to stay at the cabin on the weekends. She wasn’t his guardian in any way, and Tony hadn’t been either. May was, and Pepper didn’t want her to feel like she was trying to replace her. May understood, of course, and she had said she thought it was good for Peter to spend time upstate. There had never been a reason for Pepper to worry. She loved Morgan too, and the little girl was already referring to her as her aunt. She didn’t mind making the drive for Peter. She only wanted him to be happy.

She didn’t realize that Peter wasn’t as happy as he acted, but that was okay. He didn’t want her to know that he was struggling. She had enough on her plate as is. So he put on a smile and acted excited to visit every weekend that he could.

“Alright,” Happy replied. “If you need anything just let me know. I know I’ve not been the best about it in the past, but I’m always here if you need me.”

“Thanks, Happy,” Peter replied, sitting up.

“Talk to you later, Kid.”

Peter said a quick goodbye and the call disconnected. He blinked rapidly as tears tried to form in his eyes, growling with frustration. Honestly, he was pretty exhausted and should have gone home long before Happy called him, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep well. Some nights it took him hours to fall asleep, others he would hardly sleep at all. He might have nightmares or wake up several times throughout the night. He just couldn’t seem to get any rest.

Still, he stood up and started to make his way home. The air was bitter cold still, despite it being nearly March, and the wind made it feel icy. He was shivering a bit and knew that he should turn on the heater in his suit, but he decided to just deal with it. He wasn’t too far from home, anyway, and it would be warmer there. May had made sure of that as soon as she learned that he struggled to regulate his body temperature after the bite. He was sure that she would always keep it cool in the summer as well.

As much as he loved May for taking care of him, he often worried about the cost of his needs. He knew it wasn’t cheap to keep the apartment at a more extreme temperature, and he had other needs as well. For example, his fast metabolism made him need a lot more food than he had before. He tried to eat as many meals as he could at school or Delmar’s shop, but he could only eat so much away from home. May still had to buy a load of groceries to feed the two of them. Then, of course, she was constantly restocking their first aid kit because Peter would come home injured often and have to treat his own wounds. It was far from cheap. If they hadn’t had help, he wasn’t sure he would have survived after the Blip.

He had attempted to convince May to let him get a job to help out, but she had refused. She told him that there was no way he could manage it on top of school and Spider-Man. Despite her initial uncertainty about him being Spider-Man, she would never ask him to stop. She knew how much it meant to him. It was a part of him now and it was clear that he would only stop when he was dead. He proved that when he only took two days off after the Battle of Earth to grieve and recover. The only nights that he didn’t sneak out to patrol were those he spent upstate.

“Karen,” Peter addressed his AI as he spotted the building that housed his apartment. “Send Happy a text letting him know I made it and send May one telling her I’m coming through my window.”

“Both messages have been sent,” Karen replied after a brief silence, just giving Peter enough time to slip in through his open window. He found himself clinging to the ceiling, creeping over his bed before hopping down. He could see a reply from Happy pop up and then one from May, who was at work. He read them quickly before pulling his mask off. He knew he could use a shower, but he ended up flipping onto his bed with his suit still on, urging sleep to come and snatch him away from reality. Because maybe if he slept, maybe, just maybe, he would feel better.

#marvel #mcu #avengers #peter parker #karen #happy hogan #spider man #post endgame

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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years

Text

Before This Dance Is Through IX

Chapter: 9/16

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

"I'll leave you out here to have your little tantrum, alright? I'll be inside when you've calmed down." John spat, quickly storming back into the club without giving a second glance to his friend.

What was his problem? Tonight was supposed to be fun. John always seemed to encounter that problem: whenever he was trying to have a good time, which was almost all of the time, someone had to go and ruin it by getting upset over something or making everything all serious for no real reason. He was sick of it, even if Ringo was his best friend he wasn't going to put up with tonight being derailed.

Ringo's words had stung him deeply, as much as he wasn't willing to admit it, even to himself. John had heard time and time again that he wasn't sympathetic enough, but he didn't view himself that way; more often than not people didn't even tell him what their problems were then would suddenly explode out of nowhere and blame him for not noticing the fuse being lit. Ringo rarely did, this was one of the few occasions he let his emotions get the better of him and John didn't have the patience, not tonight.

There was only one person left who'd give him the time of day right now, and that was Paul. John shoved his way through the crowds more aggressively than he needed to, but it at least felt good to exert the anger somehow, and asked the first dancer he saw if they'd seen Paul. His name was Stuart, he'd been working at the club the longest therefore he knew John the longest; when he'd first started coming here Stuart had been his favourite, but that all changed when Paul came along. It had gotten past the point of John even needing to ask where Paul was, if any of the workers saw him approaching they immediately knew what question was going to fall from of his lips. That didn't stop John from asking though, just because it was a strip club didn't mean he'd forget his manners. Stuart had given an unsure answer, John always thought he was a little bothered about being replaced by Paul but that might have been his ego talking.

John continued his search, trying to ignore how sticky the carpet was as he tried to move around - whose idea was it to put a carpet in a strip club? It didn't take long to find Paul, he usually always had a crowd of a few people around him and tonight was no exception. As soon as Paul noticed John he politely ended whatever conversation he was having and headed over to him, as he always did. The spat with Ringo had made John forget the reason they were even here tonight, or at least why he was here: to see Paul like this. He looked absolutely breathtaking, if John didn't know any better he would've thought Paul was biologically female. Makeup sculpted his already feminine face, his long eyelashes even longer and darker, his plump lips even plumper. He was wearing the highest heels John had seen so far, a black platform boot which went all the way to his thigh. Over his body was a dusty pink chiffon robe, loosely flowing over his bare arms, which he hadn't shaved much to John's approval. This sight was exactly what he'd been waiting for, and now that he'd seen it all the frustration about what had just happened seemed to melt away.

"You alright, love?" Paul asked, he stepped away from the group he'd been talking to and brushed John's elbow to turn his body to face away from them "Fancy some privacy?"

John let out a weak laugh "I don't have any money." He admitted "I was kinda hoping Ringo was gonna bail me out."

Paul chuckled and John couldn't help watching his coloured lips curl "Is that why you brought him here, so he could pay for your dances?"

"Well it wasn't not the reason." John felt himself easing up already, Paul's hand was still brushing against his arm.

"I can take my break and we can sit in the back, if you want to." Paul quietened his voice a little.

"Sounds like a plan." John never wanted to seem too enthusiastic when Paul suggested this, but he didn't think he did a great job of hiding it.

Paul nodded and started walking around the edge of the stage until he came to a door marked only for staff, he had to punch in a combination on the wall before the door unlocked. This was far from the first time that John had sat with Paul in the back room, in fact he struggled to even remember the first time it'd happened.

As much as John had wanted Ringo to believe he'd only been coming to the club recently, it was a gargantuan lie. John had been coming here for years and the majority of that time had been spent with Paul. The first time they 'met' unfolded with Paul approaching John who had been sulking in a booth surrounded by empty beer bottles. Paul had later explained that he went over to him because he had looked eccentric, with his multicoloured striped trousers and brown fur coat - not to forget the pin.

"Eccentric means one of two things: money or trouble." Paul had explained much later "I don't need to say which one I got from you."

John had been immediately taken with Paul, though he'd never tell that to anyone, with his doe eyes and honeyed voice. When it had gotten to the point that John couldn't afford any dances, Paul had offered a couple for free; the exact wording had been that it'd be put onto John's tab, but so much time had passed since then and no such tab had been paid off. Eventually though, Paul made it clear that this imaginary tab wasn't limitless and that he couldn't make a living off of charity. John had been determined to find a way around it but money hadn't been easy to come by for him at the time, no publisher was interested in his poems and he had no clue what to write his next book about. Paul had caught wind of this, namely because John had gotten drunk and complained about the abysmal condition of his life, and thus a strange new transaction began. Paul loved poetry, and there was no joy greater than discovering a work that nobody else had read before and through John he was able to experience this joy over and over again.

When Paul had suggested to John that he could pay him in poetry, he burst into a fit of laughter that didn't subside for several minutes at least. Once he realised Paul was being serious, the most productive writing period of his life began. The two of them never discussed the poems themselves, it all transpired like an illegal art deal as John would hand over the shabby piece of paper and Paul would accept it with a smile, slipping it into his pocket - or wherever he could fit it - then would lead John away to a private space. Unfortunately, the love Paul had for John's poems wasn't going to pay the bills either and even this had to come to a halt. Yet all was not lost, for Paul had discovered very quickly that when John was craving to see him, he wasn't really desperate for a lapdance, rather he just wanted some intimacy with someone, someone who couldn't express any judgement. This realisation led Paul to inviting John into the staff room, it wasn't completely unheard of for dancers to do this but it was mostly reserved for friends rather than customers, where the two of them would sit and chat over a drink or two.

It was policy to keep a bottle of alcohol in the staff room at all times, just in case of emergencies. But as the manager wouldn't allow anything to be taken from the bar, it meant an array of cheap and often obscure liqours being brought into the room.

"What have we got tonight?" John asked as they took seats by the mirror - luckily Paul was always here to distract John's gaze so he could avoid looking at himself.

Paul stuck his head under the countertop and returned clutching a bottle "Amaretto, it looks like." He read.

"That's barely alcohol." John scoffed as Paul set up two glasses in front of them "Well, at least I can drink it straight."

"Think we need to make a rule that if it's not at least 30% it shouldn't be under the counter." Paul suggested as he poured a healthy amount for the both of them.

John was already drunk enough, but he was never one to turn down free alcohol. They cheersed one another and drank a fair bit before slamming the glasses back down. There was nobody else in the room, as was often the case on a busy night like tonight. Before John had laid eyes on it, he'd expected the changing room to be some kind of kinky sex dungeon with whips and chains on the wall, so naturally he'd been very disappointed to see it was like any other changing room, except with a lot more glitter and a better smell.

"So, do you wanna talk about it?" Paul asked, looking at John through the reflection of the mirror.

Their chats almost always started this way, John had noticed that very early on. Whatever answer he gave, Paul would always respect it. He never understood why Paul just let him ramble on about his problems, or expect Paul to ramble on to distract him from said problems. In the end he supposed it was cheaper than therapy, he could only suppose since he'd never actually been.

"I'd love to, but I can't really. Ringo would kill me." John explained with a sullen look.

"I understand." Paul smiled softly "Whatever's happened I'm sure it'll be fine, you've been friends forever after all."

"For sure." John mumbled, and that was Paul's cue to begin the distractions.

"Tonight's been a right ballache, no pun intended." Paul began inspecting himself in the mirror "When I suggested it, everyone was all for it and now it's all 'Paul, my feet hurt' or 'Paul, this bra makes me look fat'."

"I think it was a great idea." John took another swig of his drink, his eyes were focused on Paul's reflection.

"Oh yeah? And how would you rate the illusion out of ten?" Paul smirked.

"Ten." John answered bluntly "If I was straight, I'd be having a right crisis after seeing you."

"It's a good thing you're not then." Paul rummaged around in a bag that was on the counter, eventually pulling out some mascara and touching up his makeup "I've just had the best idea."

"You'll never charge me for a dance again?" John suggested with a grin.

"You wish, love." Paul winked "No, what I actually had in mind was trying some of this makeup on your lovely face."

John paused "And why would you wanna do that?"

"It'll be fun! Don't you want to see what you'll look like properly done up? I bet you'd make a pretty girl." Paul urged, he was already laying out his makeup out.

"I've worn makeup before, Paul." John stated somewhat defensively.

"Eyeliner and tinted lipbalm doesn't count." Paul retorted, gesturing with the tube of mascara.

John sighed in resignation, scooting his chair a little closer to Paul's, who beamed in excitement. It was moments like this that made John want to question exactly what this dynamic was, he wanted to avoid the word relationship at all costs. On the one hand they saw one another every week or so, always dropped whatever they were doing to speak to the other and had spent hours of time doing nothing in particular besides chatting and laughing. Yet they'd never exchanged numbers, they didn't even know each other's last names and neither of them had explicitly expressed that they enjoyed spending time with one another. Sometimes John thought Paul did it merely to keep him as a loyal customer, and once he realised he wasn't going to be getting any money from him in the future he'd drop him in an instant. But here Paul was spending his only break trying to cheer John up, he didn't even need John to tell him that something was wrong, he just knew. Perhaps John had gotten so angry with Ringo because he'd been able to admit what John had never been able to. Perhaps.

The two of them continued talking and joking with one another as Paul delicately painted John's face. He'd almost finished John's second eye when his phone suddenly vibrated. John didn't need to check it to know it was Ringo, most likely apologising, and so he paid no notice to it. All of this would've blown over by the morning, he saw no point in dealing with it now.

"Aaaand done." Paul announced proudly, he leaned back in his chair to get a better look at his work and his smile only grew.

"This better not inflate my ego any further, I've already got enough issues because of that." John prefaced before he turned to look at himself in the mirror.

The sight absolutely stunned him. Naturally he had to move a little closer to the mirror so that he could get a proper look, a strip club was the last place he'd ever wear his glasses. Most interesting was how Paul had almost painted his own face onto John's, it was like looking at some strange feminine hybrid of the two of them. What John loved most was the eyes, how smoky and alluring Paul had made them.

"After all these years of people telling me to go fuck myself, I can safely say that I would." John turned his face from side to side to get a full view.

"You look gorgeous, John. But that's nothing new." Paul's eyes were filled with joy as he watched John's reaction.

"You're proper good at this, maybe when you get too old for stripping you could be a make up artist." John suggested jokingly which earned him a glare from Paul.

"The day I get too old for stripping is the day you earn a steady wage." Paul quipped back, the two of them began laughing before the door suddenly opened dramatically.

Behind the door was Stuart looking fairly alarmed, it was no surprise that he knew to find the two of them back here. He didn't even question why John was currently covered in makeup, it wasn't the strangest thing he'd caught them doing.

"Bloody fight's just broken out." Stuart explained as he walked into the room, Paul immediately rose up from his seat.

"What happened?" Paul asked desperately.

"I dunno. Two lads just started going at it, think Spike might've been involved." Stuart explained "They've both been kicked out now, it's all fine. Just thought you'd like to know."

"Nothing worse than missing a good fight." John added, he thought that Stuart had been speaking more to him than to Paul.

Just as Stuart opened his mouth to speak, the door opened again, and Spike walked in. He paused when confronted with the sight of everyone looking at him, as though they'd been expecting for him to show up.

"If you stare any longer I'll have to charge." Spike made his way over to his locker and began to change, he didn't seem phased by John being able to see him.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Paul walked over to him, inspecting his face and arms for any damage.

"I'm fine. Some prick just got a little too big for his boots and someone stepped in to help." Spike turned to look at John "It was your friend, actually."

"Not very bloody likely." John gaped "Are you sure?"

"Short guy with a beard. Wears a lot of rings." Spike detailed "That's him isn't it?"

"Shit." John sat back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh "Didn't think he'd go that mental."

"Someone's gonna have to cover my last dance cause I'm not going out there again tonight." Spike ignored John's words and focused on Paul and Stuart "I'm sick of these creeps, I tell you."

"I'll cover for you." Stuart responded almost immediately "Are you gonna be alright?"

"I can get you an Uber home." Paul chimed in, looking around for his phone.

"No, no, it's fine." Spike paused and took in a deep breath "I just need to get out of here."

He'd changed out of his previous outfit, it couldn't really be described as clothing, then headed back over to the door. With a quiet muttering of goodbye, he was gone. Stuart soon followed after him, he didn't tend to stick around too long when Paul and John were on their own. Paul sighed as he sunk back down in his seat, any time anything like this happened it always took a toll on him; it just brought up memories of all the times something similar had happened to him. Now wasn't the time to dwell, not when he was meant to be making John feel better, who was currently gazing off into space.

"Are you gonna go looking for him?" Paul asked, more of a suggestion than a mere question.

"Nah." John sighed, picking up his recently refilled glass "Sounds like he's in a right state, I'd probably only make him worse."

"You should text him at least, it'll make him feel better." Paul pressed his hand onto John's knee.

John paused "You're right." He breathed then pulled his phone from out of his pocket.

Ringo responded almost immediately which was a good sign, it meant he wasn't completely pissed off with John. As much as he knew Ringo wasn't going to take him up on his offer to head home with him if he'd been refused entry, he offered it all the same. All this was very much rehearsed, up until the next message Ringo sent. He was going out for drinks? With who? Wait.

"No fucking way." John almost gasped which alarmed Paul.

"What? What?" Paul leaned forward to try and get a view of the phone.

"He's going for drinks with Spike." A huge smile spread across John's face "Ringo, you bastard."

Paul didn't respond immediately, he took a moment to process exactly what John had revealed with those words and how in retrospect everything then made sense. Instead he picked up the rapidly emptying bottle and topped up their glasses.

"Good thing we've got our own drinks here." Paul said somewhat quietly, then picked up his glass to cheers with John once more.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be." John mocked, but both of them knew all to well that he wasn't joking, it was probably the most genuine thing he'd said all night.

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #mclennon #john lennon/paul mccartney #john lennonxpaul mccartney #paul mccartneyxjohn lennon #paul mccartney/john lennon

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lycorogue · 4 years

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Marinette’s Song: Chapter 1

Just ignore that I was supposed to have this story up before midnight (and over on AO3 instead of here... whoops), and it’s now 3am...

Anyway, surprise @justknitstuff! I’m your Secret Admirer! This 10,943 word Lukanette story for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Secret Admirers event is totally your fault! XD I warned you that you didn’t know what you were encouraging (or... maybe you did. ;) )

UPDATE (2/15/20): The story is now live also over on AO3, on FFN, and on DA

Summary: Whenever Luka creates music it affects people. He can't handle having to hide his music anymore, and so he goes to the Tom & Sabine Charms and Potions shop for some help. Can Marinette's witchcraft allow Luka to finally share his music with the world? Witch and Mythological Magic AU

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 10,943 Words This Chapter: 1529

Status: Completed; 7 chapters

Disclaimer: I wanted to anchor Marinette’s magic in Wiccan as opposed to “Hollywood witchcraft”, but I’m Christian. I tried to do my research, but I also know I’m taking a lot of creative liberties. If you notice any glaring misrepresentation of Wiccan, please let me know.

It was a melancholy day. The sky was dim with clouds waiting to burst open, but the energy of a storm still lingered hours away. As Luka let his mind drift along the Seine, he didn't notice his voice drifted along with it. Not until it was too late.

The sobbing alerted him to the sorrowful melody he had been humming. With a gasp, he silenced himself, and all thoughts vanished from his mind aside from one: the echoing ring of the word no.

Luka vaguely recalled seeing in his peripheral a woman walking beside The Liberty just a moment before. Sprinting to the starboard of his mother's ship, he saw the woman still there on the sidewalk, mere meters from his home. She was slumped onto her knees, and hiding her face as her tears flowed uncontrollably.

“Not again,” Luka whispered to himself in mournful scolding. He jogged to the gangplank, and across to the sidewalk lining the Parisian river. Slowing his pace to a trot, he ventured closer to the sniffling woman.

“Hey.” Luka's voice was soft and gravelly, as if his own throat fought against the sound escaping.

The woman flinched, and folded further onto herself, nearly resting her forehead against the concrete. The sobbing weakened to a meek whimper and a few more sniffles. Luka knelt before her, and held out a handkerchief he started keeping in his back pocket.

“It's okay, miss. There's nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Slowly, the woman began to uncurl, looking through her bangs to glance up at Luka with large eyes, shining with tears and violently red from the sudden crying attack. With a shaky hand, the woman accepted Luka's handkerchief, mouthed 'thank you' to him, and started to clean herself up.

Luka cautiously wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders, and helped her rock into a seated position. He then kicked out his own legs to sit beside her. “Anything you wish to talk about? If there isn't that's fine. I'm here either way.” Luka had lost hours of his life like this, offering to help people through the emotions he evoked. He felt it was only right, though, after forcing people to experience them in the first place. This was his responsibility, and he'd take it on every time.

The woman shook her head and mewed out one last whimper of sadness. Her face now dry, and the puffiness around her eyes already going down, she handed Luka back his handkerchief. “No, sorry. I- I don't know what happened. I just felt this sadness well up in my chest all of a sudden, and I-” She let out a shaky breath; heavy and loud. “I don't know where that even came from.”

Luka gently bit his lip before shifting beside the woman. He looked out over the river, his mother's ship blocking part of his view. “Sometimes that just happens. Sorry you had to experience it.”

Sometimes it truly did just happen. Sometimes Luka didn't strike an already exposed nerve so much as project his own feelings onto another. This poor woman was merely caught in the cross-hairs.

He started humming a plucky tune. A goofy one. One that he remembered learning when he was young. One that made him think of sunshine and clear skies and laughter. Soon enough, the woman began laughing. It was a sweet sound of embarrassment and stress slowly stripping away. The moment she started smiling again, Luka stopped humming.

“Sorry for being a bother,” the woman said as she pushed herself back up onto her feet. She held out her hand to help Luka up. He accepted. “I honestly feel worlds better now than I did even ten minutes ago. I guess I had a lot more built up than I thought I did, and I just really needed a good cry. I should have had better timing, but there you have it.”

“It's no bother at all. I'm glad you're feeling better now.”

“You're a sweet kid. Never lose that compassion.” The woman gave Luka's arm a gentle squeeze. Shaking her head, as if trying to ignore the questions that must have been building up inside, she scooped her purse off the sidewalk, and continued on her way.

With a heavy sigh, Luka tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket, and returned to The Liberty. As he crossed onto the deck, he spotted his sister leaning on the gunwale.

“It happened again, didn't it?” Juleka intoned.

Luka ran his fingers through his shaggy two-toned hair, and broke eye contact. “I took care of it though.”

“You need to be more careful with your music. There's a reason Mom built us a sound booth.”

“Mom only built that for us because we asked for it. She doesn't care if I use my power. Just adds to the 'Chaos of the Cosmos'.”

“Still,” Juleka caught her brother's wrist and gave it a gentle tug to garner his attention. “We did ask her to build it for a reason. I know you. I know you can't stop the music from playing in your head, but you can at least resist succumbing to it where others can hear you.”

“I know. I slipped up. It was just,” Luka scanned the gray sky and dulled reflection of the water's surface, “so sad up here.”

“So you stayed up here?”

Luka quirked an eyebrow at Juleka: his goth-punk sister who hid half her face behind draping bangs.

“Just because I would enjoy it doesn't mean I don't realize that it bums other people out,” Juleka mumbled, “Either way, if you were getting depressed you should have come inside. Played it out of your system inside the booth.”

“I didn't even realize I was humming.”

“You can't keep doing this, Luka. People are going to figure it out.”

“I know, but what else am I supposed to do? Hide my voice? Hide my talent? Like you?”

Juleka stepped away from him as if he burnt her.

“Jules, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just-” He gingerly closed the newly formed gap between them, and brushed her bangs out of her face. “You were so good at the bass, and I miss your voice. I hate that you barely speak above a whisper now.”

“It is what it is.” Juleka shrugged, batted Luka's hand away, and patted her bangs back in place across her left eye.

Luka studied his sister for a second or two, then rolled his shoulders back as he stretched himself as tall as he could. “It doesn't have to be. Not for me, at least.” His face hardened with determination, and he sprinted for the stairs below deck.

“Luka?”

He didn't respond to her as he vanished to the living quarters. It was only a few paces from the steps to the room Luka shared with Juleka – an arrangement he really needed to talk to their mom about now that the siblings were both teenagers – and another couple of steps to get to the side of his bed. He pulled open the underbed storage, and opened up the little treasure chest inside. It was simply a cheap little wooden mock-chest his mom had gotten him from a hobby store on his tenth birthday, but it seemed appropriate for someone who lived on a ship and was basically raised to let chaos rule. Juleka still teased him on occasion for keeping the chest for so long, but it did the job of holding important items for him, so why bother replacing it?

The chest did seem a touch pathetic in that moment, though, with only a few Euros inside. The rest of his supposed treasure consisted of guitar picks, a piece of quartz he randomly found in a park when he was about twelve, and a concert ticket stub for the rock legend Jagged Stone. Luka snatched the money out of his treasure chest, snapped the lid back closed, and then stood up, kicking his drawer shut in one fluid movement.

Marching back towards the steps, and ignoring Juleka's voice slowly raising in volume as she called out for him, Luka quickly counted his savings. It wasn't much at all. He really needed to pick up more shifts with the food delivery service he started working at. For now, though, he hoped it was enough.

“Luka, are you okay?” It was probably the most articulated Luka heard Juleka speak in years. He must have really freaked her out.

“I'm going to figure out how to control this power. If I succeed, I'll be sure to let you know. Maybe then you can sing for Rose. I know she'd love to hear it.” Luka pulled his sister in for a quick hug, and placed a kiss on the crown of her head. He then shoved his money in his front pocket, and sprinted off the ship.

“Seriously?” Juleka mumbled behind him before rolling her eyes. She stayed on The Liberty, though, and watched as her brother raced through Paris.

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