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kung-laos-hat · 3 years

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Infatuation

Liu Kang x Fem!Reader

This is my first fic on here :) not proof read yet‼️

Summary: Reader was an orphan Raiden found and raised in the temple. Despite being close in ages, Kung Lao and Liu were forbidden from really interacting with her because Raiden feared they’d become a distraction to each other. One night Liu Kang catches her sneaking around the temple, and doesn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity to talk to her

It was no secret that out of all the students Master Raiden took on, (Y/n) was by far one of his favorites. Although he would never dare to outright say it, the proof of this matter became pretty evident in their day to day life. (Y/n) was always the pupil standing behind him or to the side whenever another god payed the temple a visit, she was always given the most formidable missions and tasks, and to top it all off, she trained one-on-one with the Master himself and forbid most of the monks from interacting with her.

Now, Raiden could have placed this rule down for several reasons, but the most prominent one seemed to be because (Y/n) was the only female amongst his students, and so he mandated this in order to protect her well being. After all, who knew what evil might lurk in the hearts of these young men, Raiden thought. As one of his best pupils, (Y/n) couldn’t afford any distractions, nor could the others such as Liu Kang or Kung Lao.

Aside from that, Raiden had raised (Y/n) since she was a child, and as much as he hated to admit, he’d grown rather fond of her as not only a student, but as a daughter. So why wouldn’t he want to ensure no monk came to mettle in her business?

___

Raiden’s rule came with strict precautions and schedules to ensure (Y/n) would never really have to interact with the young men. I say young, because at the end of the day, (Y/n) needed someone to spar with, and Raiden couldn’t always be the one to fight her, so he permitted one of the trustworthy older monks to train with her under supervision every once and a while. Other than that, (Y/n)’s social interactions were limited to the household workers, such as the nurses.

This didn’t mean (Y/n) was oblivious to the existence of the monks around her age or younger. As the years carried on, and (Y/n) blossomed into a young woman, Raiden thought it was suitable to have her assist the children in their training. Her presence, he found, had a calming effect on the children and they quickly took a liking to her. However, this new position allowed her to see the monks around her age in passing or on the other side of the training grounds.

Still, none of them ever spoke to her outside of the casual greetings, thank you’s, and goodbyes.

___

“Do you want spar again later on today?” Liu Kang asked as he took a seat on the ground next to Kung Lao and grabbing his water.

Kung Lao ushered for him to pass the water to him. “Mmm,” He hummed thoughtfully, “We could try, but I think Master Raiden is having the younger monks use the training grounds while he’s out.”

Liu handed him the water and ran a sweaty hand through his hair. “If he’s out, then who’s leading them?”

Kung Lao took a generous sip from the bottle and placed it on the ground. “(Y/n)(L/n) is.” He answered, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“(Y/n)?” Liu furrowed his brows together in confusion. “She’s been here just as long as I have, yet I don’t believe I’ve ever held an actual conversation with her.”

Kung Lao huffed, “Good. Master would have your head if you did.”

Liu gave him a puzzled look.

“Elder god’s rule!” Kung Lao cheered with false enthusiasm, “None of us are allowed to bother her. But as you can see, she’s been placed in charge of the children, so who knows? It doesn’t seem reasonable to me, really.”

“Huh.” Liu mused. I suppose he’d gotten so accustomed to his schedule that he didn’t even notice how little he interacted with the girl. Hell, he’d completely forgotten about that dumb rule.

“She’s an interesting girl, that’s for sure,” Kung Lao continued.

Just as he said that, the door in the hallway connected to their training court opened and the girl in question emerged, making her way down the hallway.

“Speak of the devil, there she is,” Kung Lao laughed.

(Y/n) turned her head at the sound of his voice and offered them both a smile and a wave as she passed by.

Kung Lao waved back enthusiastically. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” He whispered to Liu, but Liu was too captivated to respond.

His jaw loosened and all he could do was stare at her and only her, as if he was a camera in portrait mode. The wold around her seemed to blur and the light of the sun reflecting off of her skin and clothes made it seem like she was glowing. Liu Kang took in as much detail as he could; the tilt of her head, how her hair framed her face, the curve of her smile, everything. It all seemed magnificent and surreal.

He’d seen her before, surely, but somehow in that very moment something clicked in his mind. Something deep inside him had begun to build up and bubbled it’s way around his entire body. Liu felt like he was sick, but there was no nausea and his body didn’t ache. Instead his throat felt as it had closed and his chest tingled and burned. He brought a hand up and clenched the fabric in between his pectorals. As (Y/n)’s figure disappeared into the other side of the temple, Liu exhaled sharply.

“Liu?”

Perhaps this was the first time he’d taken the time to truly look at her, and that’s why he was feeling this way.

“Liu Kang?”

Maybe he’d been too concentrated on training and improving himself.

Liu was pulled out of his thoughts by Kung Lao flicking his forehead as hard as he could.

“OW— Lao—,” He whined.

Kung Lao chuckled, “I said your name twice.”

Liu’s frown dropped, “Oh, I apologize.” His gaze fell down to his feet in embarrassment.

A sly smile tugged at the ends of Kung Lao’s mouth as he realized what was going through Liu’s head.

“As I was saying,” He cleared his throat, “She’s beautiful. Truly something special, huh?” He teased.

Liu let out a sarcastic laugh and shoved the other male playfully.

The next couple of days Liu’s infatuation with (Y/n) would only grow stronger and more visible to Kung Lao and the others around them. It was interesting to see Liu become passionate about something other than being the “chosen one” for a change. Now the question was how long would it take before he couldn’t help but approach her?

___

Another tedious lesson was over and the two friends could not have been more eager to burst out of the room down roam the halls of the temple to their rooms, but Liu and Kung Lao knew better than to display such uncultivated behavior in front of their master. Once they and the other boys had been dismissed and were out of view from Raiden, Liu began his usual tangent.

“I saw her twice after morning practice, did I tell you?” He began stretching his arms above his head, “I waved and she—,”

“I know, Liu.” Kung Lao chuckled, “You told me all of this during our lunch. I’m beginning to think you’re becoming a little... obsessed with poor (Y/n).”

Liu slapped Kung Lao’s shoulder playfully, “I’m not obsessed, I assure you. I’m just curious as to why Master Raiden won’t let us talk to her.”

Kung Lao opened the pathway to their rooms and shook his head and they continued to walk. “I’m sure he has his reasons. And besides, it’s not good to be so fixated on this when you should be focused on training, Liu.”

Liu cocked and eyebrow at his friend. “What do you mean?”

Kung Lao stopped walking and gave him and knowing look, the corners of his mouth pulling up in amusement as if he was refraining a smile. “Don’t pretend like that little slip up during sparing a day ago while (Y/n) entered happened by sheer coincidence.”

Liu huffed and turned his face away stubbornly. “I didn’t expect her to be watching. I’m not used to fighting with an audience quite yet, that’s all.”

Now that was definitely a lie. Kung Lao knew Liu Kang saw himself as the golden boy amongst their peers, and who could blame him. He was a magnificent fighter.

“If that’s what you want me to believe, then so be it.” Kung Lao flicked the other boy’s forehead, then went off to tidy himself up before bed.

It wasn’t terribly late into the evening yet, but late enough that the sun has completely gone down and most of the temple residents were already asleep. Liu followed in his cousin’s footsteps and heading towards the showers. Afterwards the two boys spent another hour or so talking and playing games together until Kang Lao finally bid Liu goodnight.

Liu stayed behind to put away their things and was about to head out for the night, but when he stepped out into the open grand hall he noticed a figure quickly hide themselves behind one of the columns in the distance. His first reaction would of been to pounce and attack the being right then and there, but he knew he’d have to deal with a lot of angry side eyed glances tomorrow if it turned out to be a false alarm. A stealthy approach was better.

The boy casually pretended as if he was entering another section of the temple and hid behind the wall until he heard feint footsteps going the opposite direction. He took this opportunity to create some distance between him and the figure, just enough that it’d be difficult for them to sense them, but still allowed Liu to follow them.

Down the grand hall, towards the back of the temple, out into the training courts, and...

Into the greenhouse?

If this was a thief, they obviously weren’t a very smart one, for nothing of value would be found in the garden, Liu thought to himself. The garden itself was nothing impressive. Just a small room that was barely the size of a large shed. It contained a collection of flowers, potted trees and herbs that the nurses kept to replenish their stock every once and a while. Liu Kang peered in from the distance behind one of the trees outlining the entrance way, and finally identified the being as the girl he’d been thinking about nearly all week.

It was (Y/n). She placed a lantern that she’d been carrying with her onto the ground and look out a match from her pocket, then crouched down beside it. Seeing as the temple was in no danger, Liu Kang turned around to leave, but the shuffle of the branches startled (Y/n). She quickly summoned her (weapon/power) and darted out of the greenhouse. In her panic, the girl executed one swift blow to the tree, which Liu ducked and narrowly dodged.

“Calm yourself! It’s just me!” Liu whisper-yelled as he revealed himself, holding his hands in front of his chest defensively.

(Y/n) unclenched her fists and allowed her arms to fall to her side. She exhaled in relief, “You— what are you...? I apologize, I shouldn’t have assumed you were an attacker.” Her gaze fell to the floor in embarrassment.

Liu shook his head, “No, no, it was my mistake! I followed you out here on false pretenses that you were a burglar.”

The girl smiled and stifled a laugh. She tilted her head slightly upward to get a better look at the young man in front of her. He was in his normal attire, with his dark hair falling just about his shoulders and framing his face and neck quite nicely. (Y/n) would’ve been tempted to stare at him a little longer if not for the predicament she was in now.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Liu Kang. You see, I’m so busy during the day— and although I know Master wouldn’t approve of it, I come out here when everyone’s alseep just to have time to myself.” She explained frantically, “I don’t— please don’t misinterpret my intentions, I was just—,”

“It’s alright, (Y/n).” Liu smiled, slightly flustered, placing a hand on her shoulder, “No need to explain yourself further. I won’t tell anyone. In fact this entire conversation is technically forbidden, mind you.”

(Y/n) was looking directly at Liu Kang now, and something about his presence was extremely calming to her.

“That’s right...” She mumbled, “You should go then, I don’t want to cause you any more inconvenience, Liu Kang.”

“Just Liu is fine.” He could feel the giddy feeling in his chest growing stronger each time she said his name. In truth, he didn’t want to leave her just yet. He glanced back at the greenhouse and spotted the perfect excuse. “But before I go,” His hand trailed down from her shoulder to her hand, and she accepted it. Liu tugged her back towards the greenhouse.

“I see that in your hurry to kill me, you’ve lost your match.” He smiled playfully at her and picked up the lantern on the floor. Letting go of her hand, he summoned a small flame and lit the wick of the candle inside. Then Liu took (Y/n)’s hands and wrapped it around the side of the glass boy firmly.

“There.” He nodded in satisfaction. “Please accept this as my apology for interrupting your evening.”

(Y/n) let out a small laugh and nodded back. “Thank you, Liu, but,” Her eyes flickered down to the lantern, then back up at him with a hint of mischief, “now that you know my secret, how will I know if you’ll actually keep it?”

“What?” Liu frowned, pretending to take offense, “Is my word not good enough? In that sense, how do I know you’re not actually a burglar?”

“I suppose we’ll just have to keep an eye of each other from now on.” (Y/n) shrugged.

The two stared at each other for a moment, then bursted into a fit of giggles. (Y/n) sighed and placed the lantern on the ground.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then? It works for both of us. Your secret stays a secret, and I get to talk to you.”

(Y/n)’s face heated up at his words, although I doubt Liu Kang could see it with just a lantern for light. “I look forward to it then. Goodnight Liu.”

Liu placed a small kiss on the back of (Y/n)’s hand, impressed with his own boldness.

“Goodnight.”

___

Bonus:

The next morning, (Y/n) rounded up the younger monks to observe the elder ones practice. She subtly waved to both Liu Kang and Kung Lao before taking her seat behind the children. Just as a match was about to commence, Master Raiden appeared in the entrance and made his way to the center of the court. The monks exchanged confused glances until Raiden spoke.

“Alright, which of you imbeciles destroyed one of my trees?”

#liu kang #liu kang x reader #mortal kombat #kung lao #mk liu kang #mortal kombat 1995 #raiden #mk kung lao #mk raiden #mortal kombat 2021 #kung lao x reader

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makeadealwithdean · 3 years

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can’t touch us (dom!sam winchester x fem! reader) -- part 2 of ftfuwc

Hi everyone!! I’m back faster than usual with Part 2 of the Sam Winchester Valentine’s Day fic, fueling the fire until we combust! To the anon who requested this: again, I’m so sorry it’s later than I wanted it to be, but I do hope you read and enjoy it! Feedback is always appreciated, and if you like reading on AO3 better, you can find mine here :)

Word Count: 4946

Request: "Sam Winchester Valentine’s Day smut? Is that too vague for a request lmao" "I’m up to anything happening before the fun, but I was thinking they’re dating already and are both hunters and they were on separate hunts and now they’re happy just to be back together. I’m a sucker for reuniting -Sam valentine anon"

Warnings: SMUT, like for real this time, dom/sub, spanking, face slapping (a little bit), dirty talk, sir kink, daddy kink, soft dom!sam, less soft dom!sam, fingering, slight degradation (name calling, i guess), general rough sex, fluffy aftercare, i think that’s it

Part 1

My Masterlist

You set the box on the counter, untied the ribbon, and opened the lid. Inside was a strappy black bra made of sheer lace, matching panties, and garter set nestled in the middle of red tissue paper. You held the pieces up, and felt your cheeks flush at the thought of Sam’s eyes on you in that. You dropped it back into the box and began wiggling out of your tight little red dress. Finally, your dress hit the floor, along with the bra and panties you’d been wearing. You put on the new outfit Sam had given you and checked your hair and makeup in the mirror. After a deep breath to calm your nerves, you opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom.

Sam was sitting in your armchair over by the wall across from the end of your bed, leaning back, legs spread wide as he waited for you to finish changing. He looked up as you stepped out of the bathroom, and his lips curved into a wicked smile. Sometime since ditching his jacket in his room, he had rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up; you knew he was well aware of what that did to you. His hand resting on the arm of the chair lazily beckoned you closer. You took small timid steps towards him.

“C’mere, kitten,” he said, readjusting himself in the chair. You came closer, and he reached out his arm and gestured for you to sit on his right knee. You perched softly on him, still holding up most of your weight with your legs in between his legs. His big hands grabbed around your waist, picking you up and guiding you further onto his lap, so that your toes barely touched the ground. You looked down and saw the outline of his thick cock visible through his black dress pants, and all you wanted to do was touch it. But you knew that would get you in more trouble, so you placed the heel of your hand on the end of his knee to steady yourself instead.

“Now,” Sam said in a low voice, “would you like to tell me what you’ve done wrong tonight?” He leaned forward to look at you and placed his arm over your lap to grasp your thigh.

You swallowed, and your voice was shaky when you spoke, “Umm, I… talked back to you…”

“And?”

“And I touched you--” you had stopped speaking, but Sam’s hand around your waist squeezed hard, and you squeaked out “--even when you’d already told me not to.”

“Right,” Sam said sternly, turning your head towards him with his hand. “And why did you think that was okay to do? You know better.”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, sir,” you said in a voice just barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know isn’t an answer, Y/n,” Sam said, looking you in the eye and threading his fingers up your neck and into your hair to hold you still. He repeated a little more forcefully, “Why did you do what you did? Do not make me ask again.”

“I wanted to tease you, because I didn’t think I’d get in trouble today,” you said in a rush, wanting to get it over with.

Sam raised his eyebrow and huffed in surprise, “Didn’t think you’d get in trouble? Well, babygirl, guess you were wrong about that.” He hooked his left arm under your knees, right arm around your back, and lifted you as he stood up. “I think you need to be reminded who’s in charge here. That’s okay, princess. We’re gonna fix that right now.”

He threw you onto the bed on your back, but before you could get comfortable, he grabbed your legs and dragged you to the edge of the bed, flipping your body over so that your legs hung off the side, toes resting on the ground. You could feel Sam standing behind you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He yanked you backwards, just a bit more until your feet were flat on the floor, and his hips were flush against your ass. His cock strained against the fabric of his pants, and he let a sigh of relief as he grinded against you. You let out a quiet moan and turned your head to look back at him.

“Uh uh,” Sam snapped, and his hand smacked the side of your ass sharply. You yelped, and Sam said, “Eyes forward.” You turned back around, your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. He shouldn’t have had to tell you to face the front, you knew better.

“Do you know your colors, little girl?” Sam asked you, slightly softer now, and you knew this was his way of making sure you were okay with everything that was about to happen. You nodded your head, and Sam said, “No, use your words, baby.”

“Red, yellow, green, sir,” you listed off quickly.

“Good, and what’s your color right now?” Sam asked gently, hands now rubbing your ass over the lace of the new panties he’d given you.

“Green, sir,” you whimpered, voice laced with anticipation. As soon as the word left your lips, you felt Sam step back, his hands leaving you, and you whined again at the loss of contact, but stayed where he’d put you. You heard Sam move somewhere behind you and felt a rush of air as the first smack came down on the sensitive skin of your ass. Your body jolted forward as the force of his hand pushed you up the bed, and you yelped in surprise.

His hand grabbed your waist and pulled you back to where you’d been a second ago. This time he kept his hand pressing firmly down on your lower back, keeping you in place while he yanked your panties down and off. He crouched down and blew a long, cool breath onto your exposed cunt. You whined and thrashed a little, already so sensitive for him. He chuckled darkly, and you felt his presence leave you as he stood a few steps away.

The second smack was even harder than the first, and you closed your eyes tightly, burying your face in the comforter. Your hands moved from resting beside your head to fisting the sheets. You struggled not to let out a cry and held on as the swats got faster and harder.

Yeah, it hurt, and it stung, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the burn. With his big hands, Sam could inflict a hell of a lot of pain, but somehow with you, he was always loving, even when he spanked you until tears ran down your cheeks.

Like now, it was physically impossible for you not to cry out with every smack of his hand. You couldn’t tell which was worse, the burning on your ass or the heat in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t your fault that being punished for bad behavior turned you on like nothing else. And the heat became more and more intense with every slap.

You could hear Sam grunting with effort, and even as he stopped, he was breathing hard. He stood behind you again, both hands on your now red ass, feeling the heat rise off of it. He ran one finger delicately up the slit of your pussy and hummed his approval.

“Oh, you’re soaked for me, aren’t you baby?” He rasped, his voice low and gruff, loving the way you sounded so desperate for him. “Bet you like that, huh? Listen to yourself, my little slut can’t help but cry for me.”

He let his finger hover over your dripping hole, teasing you, and your hips involuntarily moved back, searching for more. You heard the smack before you felt it this time, his hand coming down loud on your ass, forcing a whimper from you.

“Behave, kitten,” Sam growled. You went limp again under his hands, too tired already to resist his commands, and he wasn’t even close to finished with you. He ran the tips of his fingers over your ass and up your back, light soothing touches that he knew you liked to help ground you. “Now, do you think you’ve learned your lesson, baby? Not to disobey me again, especially in public, when I’m trying to take you out for a nice date?”

“Mhmm,” you whined into the comforter. Sam answered with another several hard smacks on both sides of your ass. You hissed at the contact. The familiar burn that had faded slightly came rushing back, causing your legs to twitch and heat to shoot straight to your core.

“Nope,” He said, popping the “p” and twisting his fingers into the roots of your hair, pulling you upward and causing you to arch your back. You could see his snarl out of the corner of your eye. “You’re gonna answer me out loud or I’m gonna put you over my knee, and believe me, that’ll be a lot worse for you. Let’s try this again: have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes, sir!” You cried, much louder than before. “Yes, I promise I have. Please!” The waiting was getting too much for you to bear, and your voice slipped into the tone you only used for begging.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me, princess?” he sneered, turning your face towards him and coming much closer. God, he’s intimidating, you thought as more tears welled in your eyes, and at least you knew he’d never truly hurt you. Wouldn’t wanna be his enemy. No way.

“Yes, sir! I’ll be good for you! Just-- please-- please--” you paused, panting, almost sobbing now, not entirely sure what you were begging for. You just needed him, desperately. His light touch, his scent-- it was all too much without fully having him. You wanted him inside you, now.

“Please what, little girl?” Sam’s gravelly voice hissed. He let go of your hair, pushing off like he was disgusted with you so that you dropped back down, hard, onto the mattress.

“Please, sir,” you gasped, taking deep breaths, fists clenching beside your head. “Please, please, fuck me! I swear, I’ll never disobey you again!” You both knew that probably wasn’t true, but your desperate begging seemed to satisfy Sam because he groaned at your words. His big hands grabbed your waist, flipping you quickly over onto your back. You hissed as your sore backside came in contact with the comforter, but Sam didn’t appear at all sympathetic.

His hands landed on either side of your head as he hovered over you, slamming his lips into yours harshly, all technique flying completely out the window. It was all teeth and tongue and passion, and you loved it. You moaned into his mouth as he bit your lower lip, drawing back slightly, dragging it with him for a moment before letting go, all the while rutting his cloth-covered cock on your sensitive pussy.

He threw your arms around his neck, having you hold on so you sat up slightly, while his nimble fingers swiftly undid the clasp of your bra. He pushed your shoulders back down onto the bed, and you released his neck as he dragged the lace from your arms, throwing it somewhere behind him onto the floor. It had served its purpose for the night.

You lay on the bed, a little further up so your legs weren’t hanging off the side, and now completely naked as he stood over you, still completely clothed. You’d always sworn Sam could read your mind, and now was no different clearly, because his fingers flew down the front of his shirt, undoing all the buttons as quickly as possible. He yanked off the button-up, along with his white undershirt. Next to go were his dress shoes and socks. He kicked them off before undoing the clasp of his black leather belt and his dress pants and shoving them and his boxers down his legs. He stepped out of them and was back on top of you in a heartbeat.

Sam kissed you again, hand fisted in your hair before moving his kisses to your jaw, then your neck, travelling downward, nipping and biting until he reached your chest. His tongue flicked over each of your now hard and pointy nipples. He took one point in his mouth, lightly sucking and licking until you were arching up into him. He rolled your other nipple in between his fingers, before his mouth moved to cover that one instead. He kept dragging the edge of his teeth along your sensitive points until you were practically crying under him.

With Sam, you never felt unbalanced. He gave each of your tits an equal amount of attention, whether it was his hand palming and grabbing and pulling, or his warm tongue lightly teasing the sensitive skin until you practically sang his praises. You’d never understood the importance of nipple play until Sam, but he’d helped you to branch out, and at this point, you’d try almost anything if he suggested it. You highly doubted that Sam Winchester could be “bad” at anything in the bedroom.

His mouth travelled downward still, leaving gentle kisses on your stomach, hands caressing your sides, until he knelt in between your legs, pushing you thighs open, giving him a full view of your dripping entrance. The way he looked at you was downright predatory, and you whimpered under the intensity of his gaze. “So sexy,” he whispered in a raspy voice, tongue poking out to wet his lips, “and all mine.”

As the last word left his lips, he thrust two of his thick fingers inside of you with no warning. You gasped and moaned, arching your back up off the bed, much to Sam’s delight. He groaned loudly and fisted his cock, now dripping with pre-cum, with his other hand. He swiped his thumb over the slit, collecting the liquid on the tip of his finger.

“Look what you’ve done to me, kitten,” he said, his voice full of lust, as he stuck his thumb onto your tongue, letting you lick it clean before hooking his thumb into the side of your cheek and jerking your head to the side, watching as you sucked on his thumb. Sam had once said that he could tell just from looking at you that you had an oral fixation, and he was definitely correct. You were so desperate for something in your mouth that almost anything would do at this point, and Sam loved to watch the way your mouth moved around his fingers.

He fucked in and out of your pussy roughly, watching as you keened with every drag of his fingers. He yanked his other hand away from your mouth so he could press one of your thighs down flat onto the bed, effectively changing the angle of his shallow thrusts. Pressing his fingers inside of you as far as they could go, he fluttered them up and down, watching your face as your jaw dropped and you cried out in pleasure.

“Please, sir,” you begged. “Please, I’m getting close! Can I— can I come, please, Sam?” You felt the faded heat from before come surging back, much faster than before. The coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter, and you fought to push it back down.

“No.” Sam slapped your cheek with the hand that had been in your mouth, still wet from your saliva. “And what did you call me? Whose are you?”

“Yours, Sam! Yours, sir!” you cried loudly, gasping from the smack he’d given you, the slight sting giving you a brief high. “Only ever yours, sir!”

He grabbed your jaw in one hand forcing you to look at him, mascara and tears running down your face, just like he liked you, “You already won’t be able to sit for a week,” he growled, “and now, you won’t be able to walk either.”

Pushing your thighs up and back, he pulled his fingers from your soaked and trembling pussy, lined himself up with your slick entrance, and thrust completely into you in one motion, forcing a guttural noise from you at the impact. Sam grunted as your walls tightened around him, and without pausing to give you time to adjust, he picked up a brutal pace. Your legs tightened around his waist, hooked over his hip bones as he practically folded you in half. He groaned at the feeling of you and intertwined his fingers with yours, pinning your wrists flat to the comforter on either side of your head. He held himself up over your body as he fucked into you, supporting most of his weight on his forearms. His teeth nipped at your shoulder, as his head dropped to plant bruising kisses all over your neck and collarbone.

Loving the noises he drew from you, Sam had no intentions of slowing down anytime soon, and you were hurling towards your climax faster than ever. As your pussy tightened around him, he made a noise halfway between a moan and a growl, thrusting in as deep as he could, trusting you could take it. Soon enough, your cries of pain turned to whimpers of pleasure, nearly drowned out by the sound of skin on skin as his hips slapped repeatedly against your ass. Fresh tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, but you were helpless to do anything, except lie there and take it.

“Fuck, sir! Please— I’m about to come!” you cried. “It’s so so good— Please, can I come, sir?”

“Oh, fuck, babygirl. You’re doing so well for me. You can hold it just a bit longer, princess,” Sam moaned in your ear, holding you down still so you wouldn’t slide around from the force of his hips pistoning into you.

“I— I can’t! Please, sir!” you were sobbing again, gasping for breath. “I just need to— Please— let me, please!” You were panting now, eyes closed tight, and every word was bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Not yet, little girl,” Sam let go of your hands and pushed up off you, pulling out of you at the same time. You whined pitifully at the loss of his touch, your walls now clenching around nothing. You looked up at him and saw his brow glistening with sweat, pieces of hair clinging to his forehead. His chest rose and fell as he sucked in deep breaths. His huge hands grabbed around your waist, flipping you over onto your stomach. He yanked your hips back, pulling your ass into the air and slamming into you again, with no regard for the heat still burning in your stomach.

“Sam, I—” he cut you off with a harsh smack on your ass, and you cried out loudly.

“I know you didn’t just call me that again, princess,” Sam practically spat the words at you, his already low voice made even lower as he grabbed your arms, yanking you up against his chest. With that leverage, his thrusts slowed considerably, but it hardly mattered, because the new angle allowed him to hit the parts of you that only he could. You moaned desperately, recalling how before him, you hadn’t even known it was possible to feel that much that deep. You felt your walls clench again, and you were sure he felt you tighten around his thick length.

“Tell me,” he demanded, calmer this time, reaching down to rub circles around your clit in time with his thrusts, eliciting several much higher pitched noises from your throat. “Who fucks you so good every damn time? Who owns this pussy?” His hand moved from your shoulder to your throat, not yet squeezing your airway, but pinning you to him, and effectively cutting off any other movements you’d tried to make.

You could only moan in response. He was hitting so deep, and you couldn’t focus on anything else except his thrusts and his hands holding you against him, his hot breath panting in your ear. When you didn’t give him a sufficient answer Sam’s fingers on your sensitive clit stilled. You barely had time to register the loss before his hand came down with a smack, right where his fingers had just been. You bit back a scream, but when his hand came down on your pussy for a second time, you couldn’t help the high-pitched yelp that fell from your lips.

“Tell me whose this is! Now.” Sam’s hand on your throat tightened quickly with the last word before loosening again to allow you to speak, or as much as you could with him pounding into you relentlessly. This time you gasped and managed to speak, your voice sounding like the words had been dragged out of you.

“Yours, sir! It’s yours-- only ever yours! You own it, ruined me for anyone else! You fuck me so good, please-- Please, can I come, sir? Please, Daddy!” Your orgasm was so close now, it was becoming physically impossible to hold off, so you pleaded with him one last time. Using the nickname you knew he couldn’t resist, you let go of the last bit of your pride, completely submitting to the man behind you.

Sam made a guttural noise, as his dull teeth bit into your shoulder, and you felt him start to twitch inside you. He must’ve been painfully close, too. He raised his head, rasping, “Yes, baby. You can come, been so good for me--”

His fingers began to stroke your clit again, faster and harder, and his hand slowly tightened around your neck. You closed your eyes as you felt the overwhelming sensation begin to wash over you.

“Yes, baby-- That’s it, kitten. Come on my cock-- lemme feel you, sweet girl. So pretty, baby… Oh--” he cut himself off with a moan as your walls constricted around him, and he let go off your throat. With the sudden intake of oxygen, your orgasm hit you like a truck, and your mouth fell open as your head dropped back on his shoulder. It was a good thing Sam was still holding you up, because had you been standing or supporting your own weight, you would’ve collapsed immediately.

Once you found your voice, you screamed so loudly, you were positive the whole bunker knew how good Sam was to you. You cried out again as your pussy spasmed in waves, “Daddyyy-- Ohh, fuck! So good--”

Sam groaned deeply, his hands squeezing harshly at your tits, and as your orgasm began to fade, you felt his dick twitch violently. Seconds later, he was spilling hot ropes of cum deep inside you, and you moaned again at the feeling of him. He hugged your body tightly to his front, gasping against your neck as he rode out his high. With one last push of his cock, he collapsed, on top of you, careful as always not to crush you. He lingered there for a few seconds more before gently pulling out of you, sucking in a gasp of air as he did.

He rolled over on his back next to you, and his green eyes met your droopy ones. “How ya doin’, darling? You with me?” You whined pitifully, and he pulled you into his strong arms, holding you tightly, grounding you. “Shh, shh, shh,” he petted your hair gently as the noises from you gradually ceased.

He held you like that for a while, letting you recover a bit before murmuring, “You’re okay, princess. My good girl, did such a good job for me, baby. My perfect, precious little girl. You wanna go get cleaned up, so we can sleep, kitten?”

You whined again, burying your face tightly into his chest, not wanting to move or leave his arms, even for a second. Sam kissed the top of your head gently, pushing your hair back from your forehead and sighed, recognizing you were still pretty far under, “Oh, I knoww sweetheart. I promise we’ll be quick, and then we’ll come right back to bed. And I’ll put lotion on you, so you won’t be as sore tomorrow. Come on.”

He grunted as he got up from the bed, lifting you to his chest and carrying you to the bathroom. He set you down on the toilet, making sure you went pee, before carefully lifting you into the hot bathwater he’d just prepared. You cried out for him, hands opening and closing as you reached for him.

“It’s okay, honey,” he shushed you gently. “Daddy’s coming.” He stepped into the warm bath and settled down behind you, pulling you flush against his chest, calming you down instantly with his touch. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s get you all cleaned up.”

His big hands cupped the water, gently pouring it on your head, careful to avoid getting soap in your eyes as he gently washed your hair, rinsing until the bubbles disappeared. He wiped away the remnants of your makeup with a washcloth, mascara smudged with tears and glittery bits of eyeshadow. You leaned against him the whole time, feeling dazed still from your post-sex haze, and unwilling to part from him, his very touch soothing you. Tucked into his chest, eyes closed, you let Sam’s hands wash all over your body, massaging most of the tightness and soreness from your tired muscles.

Once he was finished, he pulled on the drain, letting all the soapy water start to slowly spiral away. He stepped out first onto the bath mat, grabbing several fluffy towels from the rack near the tub and drying off quickly, before taking your hand and helping you stand. You held onto his strong arms as you climbed over the tall edge of the tub. Once you were standing steadily on the bath mat, Sam wrapped the soft, warm towel around your shoulders, rubbing down your legs with another to help you dry off.

You sniffled and rubbed your eyes as Sam helped you into a bathrobe. He cupped your face in his hands, looking into your eyes, and kissing you on the forehead. Sam tugged the robe tighter around you before tying it closed. He slipped on a clean pair of boxers and took your hand, leading you back into the bedroom. He helped you climb up onto the bed and lie down.

You hissed as the fabric of the bed came in contact with your sore and tingling ass and the bruised backs of your thighs. You whimpered and rolled over quickly onto your stomach to relieve the pressure, looking up at Sam pitifully from under long eyelashes. Sam looked down at you sympathetically, stroking your hair.

“Oh, my poor sweet baby,” he fussed over you, rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down your back. “Let me go get your smell-good lotion, so I can help some of those bruises not hurt so much, okay?”

“Uh-uh,” you said, shaking your head. Sam looked at you, confused. “Your lotion, please? Smells like you,” you explained shyly, staring down down at the comforter.

Sam smiled, nodding, “Of course, baby. I’ll be right back.” He slipped into his room to find his lotion while you waited for him on the bed. He tried to move as quickly as possible, knowing you hated being without him in your current fragile state of mind. He snatched the lotion from his nightstand. It wasn’t like he was in his room often anymore; he always slept with you in your room, but he still kept most of his stuff here.

He jogged back down the hall to where you were waiting on the bed. “Okay, little love, do you wanna keep the robe on or take it off?” You began shrugging off the robe as an answer, and Sam helped you untangle yourself from it before laying it over the back of the chair near your bed. He knelt on the bed next to you and pumped some of the lotion into his hands.

“This might be a little cold, darling,” he murmured before rubbing the lotion gingerly onto the backs of your thighs. You whimpered a little because of the cold lotion and Sam’s hands moving up to soothe the skin on your ass. He looked at the bright red skin where he’d left handprints a little while ago. He winced as you did when his hands passed over it, questioning if he’d gone a little too far. He rubbed the lotion in gently until your skin felt smooth and no longer as hot as it had been before.

He looked at your face, turned towards him, resting on the comforter. Your eyes were closed peacefully, and he knew you were ready to go to sleep. He turned off all the lights, and whispered gently to you, “C’mon, honey. Let’s get you under the covers so you can get some rest, huh?”

You nodded sleepily and yawned as he lifted you up to his chest, pulled back the covers, and tucked you in, your head now resting on the pillow. You looked at him with droopy eyes and reached towards him, opening and closing your hands, wanting him to cuddle you.

He did the gesture back before walking to the other side of the bed and climbing under the blankets himself. He pulled you gently into his arms, and you let your head rest on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, allowing it to soothe you. Sam stroked your hair, kissed the top of your head, and hummed, “Was everything okay tonight, my little Valentine? I wasn’t too rough on you, was I?”

You shook your head barely, exhausted, but wanting him to know how much you’d enjoyed it, “Nuh-uh, it was perfect, Sam. You’re always perfect.”

“I don’t know about always perfect,” he chuckled softly, hugging you tightly to him. “But I do love you, princess.”

“I love you, too,” you sighed happily, nuzzling your cheek against him.

He kissed your head once more, “Go to sleep, lovey. Got lots of time together to catch up on tomorrow, hmm?”

You didn’t answer. Your breath had deepened and steadied as you slipped off into sleep. Sam smiled to himself at how peaceful you looked. Yeah, no more separate hunts for a while, he thought, before he too drifted into a dreamless sleep.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! if you made it this far, you literally have my heart. please consider leaving me a comment or a reblog :))

Forever Tags: @downanddirtydean @klinenovakwinchester @deanwanddamons

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aineryeo · 3 years

Text

Sweet Tea ௹ OSAMU

Sweet Hibiscus Tea — Better Twin. 🍵

SYNOPSIS: You are not a protagonist but your best friend definitely is. When will you ever be, sweet little side-character? » 6.2k Words

THEME: A li'l bit of a slow burn love story, angst, just a treat as my first fic in a year. | Bit of profanity, cussin', teen drama. And use of dialogue references!

NOTE: Low-key felt like this was crap, rip. I still love you so much ‘Samu :( I may have not written this the best

If you were to think of what your role in life was, you were sure you were a comic relief character, and your screen time was just cut short because the viewers in the show you call, “Life” are not giving you the best reviews. With the amount of times you felt like you were cycling through all your days the same, waking up… Waking.. Up.. Wake— Yeah, that was about it.

Everything else was an objective agenda. You were a sufficient klutz, whatever that paper was. You ponder, in your inner monologue while you’re tapping your push-pen on your school desk in Inarizaki.

“— And we’ll be designing our own living rooms as part of the Course Outline for Interior Studies in the general subject.”

You had a best friend, continuing to ignore the incessant babbles, you say as you write a little note to remind yourself to think of a living room design to finish the work quickly later. You had a best friend, who you can easily say is the main character of life. You swear, as she sat close to the window, and how she wasn’t mean, she was charming; it was so hard not to like her. But she’s also insecure, keeps to herself enough, having you by her side.

“Hear that ‘Samu?”

“What now, ‘Sumu?”

“Interior Designin’! Weren’t ya listenin’ ya scrub.” Bleach-blonde hair.“What about it?” Disinterest; Bleached hair too, but ash-grey.

“Ain’t Kori-Kori real good at stuff like this?”

You observed the two famed twins of Inarizaki High. Actually no, you were forced to; how? Well, you sat between them, not like that ever stopped anyone, nor did it ever interfere with your boring experience of being a 2nd mid-year Senior. You just wanted to get up, and leave, get a job or something; not going to lie.

“Is there anyone talking at the back right there? Anything the class would like to hear, pretty sure.” Professor said, which immediately shut the two up, the other was blatant and oblivious, even whistling.

“Guessed so.” Your professor went on right after.

Your chin was resting on the heel of your palm now, but you felt someone roughly, no really, they roughly tapped your shoulder, the touch was from a clearly heavy hand. It came from your right, which was…

“Hey missy, pass this on to my brother, will ‘ya?” He grinned widely, his other hand that held the pen used to write a note in the torn paper from his notebook that most likely didn’t have any notes despite it being mid-year. You let out a bit of a grunt, not moving from your position, but you did use your hand that was tapping your table to pass it on to the other Miya without sparing a glance.

“...”

Your arm was about to die.

You turned to the other Miya, a small frown on your face as he ignored your outstretched hand, his eyes were closed, arms crossed but he was definitely not sleeping, it was obvious enough. So you tried to aggressively wave your arm that held the letter while keeping an eye on the doting teacher upfront, trying not to be obvious. His brother had noticed that he was ignoring you as well, shrugging when your frown deepened, back straightening on your desk, your free hand now tapping on your table instead of being a rest for your head.

“Hey ‘Samu ‘ya jerk…!” Atsumu whispered, a volume tad higher, to his brother who proceeded to ignore him; and technically, you too.

You groaned and ignored the two, equally annoying twins that are involving you into a situation you don’t want to get involved in. So you just slammed, actually no, not slammed exactly but you did harshly place the torn paper that contained some unnamed letter from Atsumu directed to Osamu. Wistfully, this was noticed by your professor.

“Y/N. I believe it’s been made clear that passing notes is not allowed in my class, rather, on any occasion that involves other subjects as well.” They scolded.

You sucked a breath in between your teeth, your hand ran through your hair in an attempt to calm you down. “Switch seats with Yokori. This seating will last ‘till the end of the year, ‘lest you misbehave again. This applies to everyone else who has been swapped constantly.”

Yokori gave you a solemn smile, knowing you hated this, she gathered her belongings and quickly sat to avoid any more trouble; even opting to give you a pat on your shoulder on the way to her desk near the window, though not quite beside. One classmate separated you from being directly beside the scenery of school grounds that held the gym where your schools’ famous volleyball team resides for practices. Actually, this classmate was one of their players, Suna Rintaro? Your impression on him was that he was quiet… Enough, if not provoked or talked to at all, which you guessed was part of your luck. Because you were definitely not going to talk to him, less it required you to by any of your classes together.

So you sat, your professor continued, and your eyes landed on your best friend that sat on your previous seat, since your first year of middle school. Bored expression on once again, your thoughts dialed back, and you noticed a quick interaction from Atsumu towards your best friend who flushed slightly from the two’s attention, noticing that even the twin who ignored you earlier began perking up, just a little bit. And the feeling was slight but you felt a tinge of annoyance, proceeding to push it to the back of your mind, not letting the feelings against your best friend surface. Because she was good, and undeserving of it, obviously.

The bell rang, it was time for lunch!

Lunch is a happy time, because you can buy yourself chocolate, and you can, well, eat lunch. What else is there for? You were bored out of your mind at home after doing your homework, and studying enough for the day so you practiced cooking. Which you admit, was very enjoyable, especially when you finish. Today was tuna sushi rolls, seaweed-strapped spam meat, seasoned rice, and hot tamarind soup in your insulating tumbler. You didn’t notice light gray irisess eyeing you in your little daydream about your lunch for today.

“Y/N, you good?” Yokori, said best friend went next to you, who had just finished gathering your lunch bag. You nodded, smile small. “Yep, let’s go.”

The class dispersed quickly, you two walked side-by-side as she timidly told you a story about her situation earlier.

“So Atsumu-san was passing notes to his brother Osamu, right? T’was so weird because they kept asking me questions, but Atsumu-san was nice, he wanted help with that Interior Designing project we have going on.” She laughed, scratching her cheek. You nodded along to her story, she was used to your rather quiet demeanor, she knew you were still listening. “They said it’d be cool to attend their after-school volleyball practice.”

“Mmh. Really? They’re annoying though.” You humored her, to which she chuckled.

“I mean… It shouldn’t be bad to try it, right?” She said with a big grin, bright.

You jutted your lips forward as you bobbed your head in agreement, already taking your chopsticks and lunch out when you found a free table. “I guess so.” You said, mouth chewing on a roll.

You pour a portion of soup to get the food down your throat onto your tumbler’s cap that serves as the cup, and drank, “So I told them you’re coming with me, I’d be too nervous by myself… Hehe..” and spat.

“Kori, what?”

“Come with me…” She looked at you, nervously smiling with her eyebrows raised in mock questioning, “-please.”

“Okay.”

“I promise, I’ll ask you next ti— wait, really? Holy shit, Y/N, thank you! I’ll pay you back, for sure. I didn’t expect you to agree quickly, d’you have a crush on any of the VBC members, perhaps?” She teased.

You were eating continually, mouth full of rice as you pointed your metal chopsticks toward her. Speaking with your mouth full, “I don’t think there was any point trying to say no if I’d say yes in the end anyway. It already happened, what can I really do?”

She nodded in understanding, you were always like this, relaxed about what happened around. It was worth idolizing, at least. Your head felt like it was burning, the back, you mean. Was someone staring?

You were now sitting outside of the gym, deciding to hang around outside instead of watching sweaty boys play for hours. Kori became more relaxed, so you took the go-mark and asked to leave when you noticed that she was. The team was fond of her, you note, Shinsuke Kita the Captain even thanking her for thinking of buying them snacks and helping them around with their manager to fill up the boys’ water bottles. The team gave her attention and copied their captain in terms of providing gratification for her deeds. You heard her ‘lax conversation next to the banter with the twins that was a normal recurrence.

You were simply a drifting particle, a bystander.

Actually wait, you remembered that you had packed yourself a little snack in case you had to stay in school for some surprise activity you forgot about, or situations like this exactly. So you took out your little box of homemade onigiris, not noticing the figure looming at the door. It was their break, and you were about to bite.

“Hey, that yours?” You hear, stopping your bite mid-way, turning your head to see ash-grey.

“Huh.”

“Ya deaf or what, missy?” The nerve.

You looked at him, and bit on the prism-shaped rice, then looked forward once again, closing your eyes even. ‘Till you heard shuffling and a sleazy figure sitting next to yours. That was when you opened your eyes, mouth slightly agape. Osamu Miya, sat next to you, his legs spread, and his arms were holding his whole posture as his head faced yours.

“If yer gonna look at me like that, the least ya could do is gimme one, little miss.”

You shook your head and swallowed. “Stop calling me little miss, old man.”

“Hoho, old man?” He says, humoring you, you can smell his cologne from here, mixed with sweat from his practice. He leaned forward, his arms now intertwining, resting on his knees, he was facing you with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’d call you shit hair but your hair ain’t the color.” You shrugged, but it was the type of shrug where you slightly move your hands outward. So when you did, the hand that held your bitten snack was when the big fox ate his fill. “Mm, tastes good.”

“Fucki-” You screeched. His eyes went wide when you just shoved the onigiri in his mouth, “It has your germs now, better not choke, gran’pa.”

Osamu was trying to give you a snide reply back but he couldn’t, with the rice stuck in, he just kept chewing. As you stood up and yelled to Kori that you were leaving. You were a side character, nothing more, you thought; as you walked away from the boy who had tried reaching to you, but you failed to notice.

“So… He invited me to their house to hang out.” Yokori said happily on the phone, you were trying to sketch a few designs you felt like doing so hummed, already quite satisfied, spinning on your chair right after. “So…”

“No.”

“But I haven’t said anything yet!”

“You were about to ask me if I can come with you because you’re nervous to go alone, the usual, hm?”

“...”

“Hm?”

“...Yes.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“N-”

“I’ll order you takeout pizza!”

“...Okay.”

You heard her cheering yes! On the other line, to which you just slumped in your chair to. And so, the day came and you were right behind Kori, who was knocking on the Miya residence as of the moment. The one who greeted the both of you was Osamu Miya, you internally groaned, their parents were off, you heard.

“Tsumu!” Your best friend smiles, greeting the other twin brightly; and smiling so wide at the twin at the door. “Hello ‘Samu!” She said, before the blonde had pushed past the door to beam at her.

“Brought your li’l friend along, cutie?” Atsumu jokes, rustling your friend’s hair before beckoning the two of you to come in. You walk past Osamu who you had mild grudges with. Your friend turned to you, “I’ll be helping Atsumu with some plates for the project, we’ll be up in his room!” She said, innocently.

“Mmh, okay. I’ll stay here?” You asked, more to yourself, you didn’t really know where to stay. This wasn’t your place.

“Accommodate the guest ‘Samu, I need’a do important school stuff.” Atsumu waved off as the two walked up the stairs on the way to the boy’s room, pretty sure. You stood there in the middle for a couple minutes, unsure. The renowned ‘less annoying’ Miya was sitting on one of their kitchen stools, his cheek digging into his palm, just staring at you. You stared back. He stared back. You were both staring.

You broke. “Not gonna let me sit, or anything?”

“Sit anywhere or something.” He droned, still looking at you. He was enjoying it.

So you looked at the couch beside you, then spared a glance at him, about to sit until he spoke again, “Hmm, not there.” He said in his low voice that contained an underline of mockery, you were sure. Though to him, it was simply amusing, to watch you that is. If anyone outside the two of your observing based gazes, he was actually sporting a noticeable smile. A small triangle smile, as if he was shy to make it any bigger, in hopes of hiding something.

You tried the two other chairs, the floor, leaning on a wall, but it was all a reject. You were embarrassed every time. Did you really have to go through all this just to get takeout pizza? You’d have to ask more later, that's for sure. So you tried for a last option, there was a tall stool right beside his, and well, three others far from him. So you tried the farthest tall stool from him, which was the far left. He shook his head no, you furrowed your eyebrows, you moved to the second stool, still no? Every move made your head wrinkle further down ‘till you reached the last seat, right next to him. To which he finally said, “Got it, pretty girl.” with a big boyish grin.

You didn’t have time to react to the nickname before finally letting out a sigh as you stretched your arms, and legs before laying your head on your arms that were resting on the table in front. That whole interaction probably took at least half an hour, you didn’t really know, you didn’t have a watch. “Pretty, my ass.”

He hummed, resting his head on his arms as well, though he was facing you. “Yer ass is.”

“The fuck.”

“Ya got a bad mouth.”

You groaned, and buried your face in your arms. Wanting to escape this. But you were lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t subconsciously enjoy his attention. You weren’t used to it, you weren’t supposed to feel this, right? It wasn’t, it just, it’s not you. Right? You shook your head to which the boy watched you do, getting your head up, posture straight and looking at him. He looked back, like he always seems to do.

“What do you want from me?” You say.

Osamu kept his mouth shut, still looking into you, thinking of what to say. Unwilling himself to tell you what he’d rather. So he asked a question, “D’ya cook?”

“Yeah, I make my own lunch and snacks.” You said, wary. Already feeling suspicious, you raise both your brows.

“Let’s cook.” He suggests.

Here’s the thing, you can’t do anything right if someone’s watching you too intently. It feels awkward, who in their right mind is able to do this right when he’s gripping your wrist that was stirring the batter for what the both of you decided to make, muffins.

“Ya gotta put in the right amount of strength.” He instructed.

“I’m starting to regret mentioning that I don’t bake often.” You thought, you thought you just thought that it was only in your thoughts. Oh no, you were becoming redundant, was it always this hot?

“Yer burnin’ figuratively, and literally. By that, your eyeballs are wide as fuck.” Osamu pointed out, he was biting his lip, to keep from a wide smile. “Tryna bake with yer hot gaze?”

What? “Huh.”

Now Osamu had wide eyes, I think it came off more sultry than intended. So he moved away from you as if you were burning his skin, though technically, you really were. Playing it cool. “What?”

“My what.”

“Yer… What?”

You were staring at him with a confused expression, about to open your mouth when, “Hey scrub! Make me a snack, I’m starvin’ over here.” Atsumu yelled from the room, you heard Kori’s small laugh and a faint, “Don’t be so mean, ‘Tsum.”

“Right. Let’s put ‘em in the tray then straight to the oven, yeah?” Osamu started, standing next to you, his face was not quite visible due to his wide shoulders, if you knew better, he might be obstructing your vision to not see the steaming heat from his ears. Spoiler, you did. But you chose not to poke at a sleeping bear.

“You sick? Got red ears?” You poked at a sleeping bear.

Actually, you were expecting a snark reply, it was easier that way. Just be sarcastic back. It was when the both of you were done, and placed the tray containing the muffin batter in the oven to bake, did Osamu dip his index finger in the bowl of slightly empty batter, facing you, and licking it off his finger. You really tried, you did; you tried not to look at the way he did that so unabashed. Dipping the same finger on the last remaining batter before menacingly leaning closer to you, inches from your face. If you could measure it exactly, 2.8 inches? So close.

Your weight moved from the heel of your foot to the front, again and again, what was he doing?

“What are you—?” You began before you got cut off by his finger wiping the batter on your lips, it made it look like you had a mustache. You stood there surprised for a few seconds, not knowing how to react, and hated how you expected something so different. It was until you heard a click of a camera and a low chuckle vibrate from the boy in front of you that you took the few remaining flour that was right in your reach to throw it in front of his face, making a huge fog of flour. He coughed for a bit, his eyes were glistening as he took the bowl next to him, using his whole hand to wipe leftover batter, getting ready to chase you.

You noticed. So you ran, but not without screaming, the leftover flour bag in your hand.

“No, please,”

“You asked for it, pretty girl.” He replied breathily, both of you were circling the kitchen island.

It took a good ten minutes before he decided to jump the island, and ran to quickly get hold of you with both of his arms, his hair tickling the side of your neck which made you laugh too hard, flour was all over his hair and apron, you failed to notice the handprint of batter right on your chest because you were struggling so hard to get off his grip. He was laughing too, you put on your scowling face, though not really mad, to face him, who in turn faced you as well. You didn’t notice the distance between the two of you was nearly non-existent; I repeat, nearly.

“Hey ‘Samu! I’m starvin’ and I smell yer bakin way over in my room.” You heard quick footsteps down the stairs, which made you jump in your skin. But even with that speed, you were still caught. Because Atsumu had an unreadable expression, “This place is a mess! Did we interrupt too early, hm?” Kori taking a peek right behind Atsumu.

You heard a dry cough from the other twin, facing the other direction, you facing the other as well. None of you spoke in time, so you took it. “No, uh, we weren’t, nothing was happening.”

“The scene of the crime is proof!” Atsumu pushed, teasing, as he continued his way down next to Kori.

“Shut it ‘ya scrub.”

“Yer the scrub, scrub.” They started bickering, real easy like that, trying to beat each other up. You noticed Kori walking down the stairs as well, first with an expression you couldn’t quite place, as if she was thinking deeply. But when she noticed you looking, she quickly changed into a bright smile, even sporting a blush, ready to tell a story about what happened behind the closed doors of Atsumu’s bedroom.

The day ended quickly after that, Osamu forced Atsumu to help the both of you to clean the kitchen while Kori volunteered to. It continued on like that, Kori dragging you into one of her meetings with Atsumu, you complaining but coming anyway, and you end up stuck with Osamu as she goes to her rendezvous with Atsumu that at this point, you have no idea what they’re doing. You just tag along.

Right now, you were beside Osamu in the gym during their break from training. Near the door, his teammates a good few distance away as he sat on a bench with his usual posture. Slumped back, his arms arching, one behind you that you fail to think of anything. Just as a general position. You were voicing out a thought you had in a while, seriously.

“So I was balls deep into ghosts way back—”

He looked at you, disgusted. “GROSS,” Shoving you lightly, “God, please never, ever say ‘balls deep in ghosts’ to anyone ever again. I feel like washin’ my mouth having to repeat that.” He even added this mild shudder that was just an exaggeration.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t really want to think about anyone having sex with a ghost.”

“Huh, who said anything about ghost sex?”

“You did, Y/N! Just now!”

“I didn’t—Oh, holy shit. No. Oh no.”

“What?”

“Does ‘balls deep’ not mean you’re standing in, like, the shallow end of the pool, metaphorically. Like up to your balls or something.”

“No! Balls deep is—It’s…”

“Balls deep is…”

“Why are you two talking about balls?” Suna interjected, acting as if he was just hearing about your conversation now. He was actually listening since the start, noticing the short distance between the both of you, interest hiding behind his eyes. “Balls, as in, dick or something? That’s wild.”

“Suna, no!” You screeched.

Osamu was biting back a laugh. The team was watching the three of you converse, getting used to the sight of you with their teammate. Assuming other things up the clouds. Atsumu was watching his brother with hawk eyes, and so was the girl next to him, Kori, though she was looking at you. If Suna was being honest, he didn’t notice any form of chemistry between your friend and the piss haired twin. They were all smiles and bright, but they always looked like they were thinking of something different. Though he doesn’t know anything about it.

Practice ended. It’s been months, and your interactions with Osamu have gotten more laxed. Your thoughts about being nothing more than a side-character was starting to change, because with him, you felt that you were a number one choice. You felt that you were a main character. Osamu felt the same, being with you felt like time was moving too fast and he wanted to spend it more with you, he was becoming insatiable. With you, he didn’t feel second to his brother for once. Lingering touches, his hand forgetting to unhook from yours, and his arm slinking around your shoulders as he yawns and asks for one of your homemade snacks as he starts to make some after-school snacks to give back to you.

You were invading his mind as much as he was invading yours. Sitting next to you during lunch, asking what’s in your bento, vice versa. Why was everything sailing so smooth? It was like it was just him and you. You heard rumors from the Miya fans that they were thinking you were Osamu Miya’s girlfriend. Forgetting your inferiority, sometimes the universe was just cruel, so it had to humble you.

“Atsumu and I broke up.” Kori sobbed.

Not to you, but to Osamu. You gripped your bag’s strap tightly. You peeled your lip with your teeth until the middle bled, so you sucked in the pain. No, you were not the protagonist. You weren’t, you never will be, and you never are in the past, present, and future. So you sucked in a breath to collect yourself, seeing Osamu pat the girl to attempt and comfort her, badmouthing his brother. “Sorry,” Her first gripped his shirt tighter.

“Osamu, please. It’s—I always liked you. It was just you.”

She wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t, but why? You wanted to hit her, that, or jump off a building and die. None of them noticed you yet, at least that’s what you thought, but the sobbing girl had already seen you before she started bawling, and the other twin was forced to give her a tight, but awkward hug.

“Yokori… I liked you.”

You were about to walk to them normally after licking your lips from the blood, wanting to appear as a third party, to not let this happen. It just can’t. but you were pulled back by your collar. Who—

“Atsumu?”

He put his index finger in front of his lips to silence you, “Shh.”

So you followed him confused, he held your hand away from the scene. Leading you to the gates, the school half-empty, their practice about to start in half an hour or so. “Atsumu, why?” You croaked.

He had his eyes widened a bit, why? Actually, why did he pull you from that scene? His other hand that didn’t hold yours, which you didn’t bother to remove with the energy seeping out of your body quickly; it was taking everything in you not to break down. It went to his nape, rubbing it in question to himself, why? It was just that, seeing you staring at a scene when he knew you liked his brother, at a scene too painful, for a best friend who was just trying to do their paper, he knew. So his arms safely wrapped around you as you stared dead into his eyes, looking at his features that resembled the other who had unknowingly captured your heart.

Your bleeding lip trembled, your eyes turned glossy of the tears held back, Atsumu looked at you, empathetic. He broke up with your best friend because he couldn’t see it happen, every time he saw you with his brother, that wasn’t what they both had. They were simply not meant to be, and he was fine, he just didn’t know, but he was glad that because of it, he found out that she liked his brother more than she did him. He’d be angry, he should be, for his sake, but he wasn’t angry for him, he was angry for you.

He hid your face into his chest instead. You didn’t sob, solely because you thought you didn’t deserve to. But you cried, you let your tears soak in, “You look like him too much.”

“Shhh, I know—” Sigh. “It’s okay. You don’t have to look at me.” He said, trying his best to comfort you, caressing your hair. As a pair of grey eyes watched the scene from a distance, unable to hear, but able to see. Maybe he saw too much as he grimaced.

Osamu tried his best not to punch his brother right in the jaw, or push him away so he could yell everything he’d kept cooped up inside before you came running along, turning monochrome into a saturated-vision of the world. His teeth were pressing down on each other hard enough, he thought it might break, and shatter, just like his heart did. Of course, you chose his brother. Everyone always does. Every time he thinks he’s got it all, it’s all swiped underneath by his twin. Everyone says that it wasn’t their talents, or skills in volleyball that was the greatest gift they had ever received in life. It was their twin. But right now, he just thinks he was a curse he had to always deal with.

He jolted as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Suna.

“Practice. Kita’s calling. Call your brother.” The ever-observant boy runs over as he scans the scene, and hisses as he sees you wrapped in his brother’s arms. Though he knew more than that, he had first-class seats to this theatrical after all. But he’d rather not be part of the act club, it wasn’t his forte.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Osamu replied, briefly. A bit tense, still.

He looked back to Atsumu who had let you go, and you who were walking away already. On the way to your home, he was sure. But he can’t help but cringe, thinking of it as your way of walking away from him.

“Practice! ‘Sumu!” He yelled, devoid of anything.

You jolted, you were a bit far but he yelled really loud you could still hear it. This didn’t go unnoticed by him, but you were both overcome by swirling emotions that stopped both of you to do the bare minimum, smile and wave, no after-school snacks. Atsumu jogged towards them, not noticing his brother’s attempt at hiding his huge frown. Practice was hell for Osamu, he didn’t want to see his brother right now, not when he still thinks of your precious little form hugging his brother’s, not his.

When his brother accidentally served a ball hitting Osamu behind the head, it was more of a switch for his anger; his rage.

“Fucking hell.” He said, turning viciously towards his brother who was uttering lighthearted apologies. It wasn’t until he started stalking towards Atsumu did the team start watching them like hawks, Aran thinking it’s just another one of their silly fights. But that thought was cut off when Osamu suddenly launched a fist towards Atsumu. “Ya just get off on this, huh? Ya get off on giving me bullshit every time.”

“Woah, ‘Samu I said I was sorry. What the fuck.” Atsumu said, brows furrowed, voice starting to get scratchy at his brother’s tight grip on the collar of his shirt. His hand quickly gripped his brother’s wrist tied to his shirt, attempting to get it off him, starting to get riled up from getting hit out of nowhere. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?” He said, about to kick his brother off of him.

“You. You just took everything from me, ‘Sumu. You took them.”

Osamu breathed heavily as Kita instructed the team to peel the twins away from each other as this wasn’t one of their silly fights at all. It held other issues. The captain knew that practice wouldn’t be able to continue like this, so he made them do drills before allowing them to go home. Looking pointedly at the Miya’s. The two brothers did what they were told to, going off to do their drills, and getting ready to go home.

They were walking silently side-by-side, both faces covered with a frown, Atsumu’s face having a bruise by the jaw whilst Samu didn’t have a scratch, only because Atsumu was realizing where it all came from.

“Did ya see?”

“Fuck you.”

“Look— It’s not what ya think, ya idiot.” Atsumu started, Osamu raised his brow at his brother. “I don’t want to say anything. Figure things out yourself, scrub.” Then the blonde started walking faster, leaving his brother behind to ponder.

The next day came by, he tried calling you but it never got through. Did you block him? What did he do? Did you really get repulsed by him to avoid him to that extent? That involved his texts getting left unanswered. You didn’t come to school today, he asked Kori, who he had rejected yesterday, and who was supposed to know about you more than he did. Though he was aware that you often felt inferior to her, as he told you the same about his brother, it was a feeling that you two were all too familiar with.

“I don’t know where she is, I’m sorry. She’s not talking to me either.”

Osamu stayed quiet at that, he thought you just needed time. So he let it go, looking forward to talking to you the following days. But that was the problem, you weren’t there in the following days either. He knew where you lived but he didn’t want to impose as your family didn’t know him very well yet either. He stopped himself from visiting until it hit the second week of your absence. Where were you? Why have you disappeared as if you never existed in the first place? He was growing worried, he wanted you to exist. He loved existing when you were around. And he wanted to clear everything up after getting multiple clues from Suna, and his brother, obviously.

It was until the class of the second week you were gone, when Osamu promised to visit your house after school, did their teacher tell them news that tore Osamu in half.

“One of our students Y/N L/N has transferred schools. The administration just finished filing her transfer after her visit yesterday, she didn’t get to say goodbye as her family moved out the same day. That’s about it, the first class is Physics. Have a nice day ahead, students.”

His ears were ringing. You were gone. Gone like the liquid that slipped past his hold. Atsumu looked at his brother in pity, knowing how much he had lost at that time. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t hear Osamu crying in the shower when they got home. Or when he tried to not get his snot on his pillows, sniffling in the night. His heart ached for his brother.

It’s been years since 2nd year in High School, and Osamu has just opened up Onigiri Miya. His brother had gone pro on Volleyball, and he couldn’t be more proud. He still finds himself thinking back to a few months of pure bliss in highschool, and he tried dating a fair share as well, in hopes that he’ll get what he had with you. He didn’t. So he dedicated himself to his work, and his passion: cooking. A few more years and his business was a success, to which was hell for the first few months, having no investors, and all. He was wiping down his counter, black cap on, his hair not having the same old bleached-grey hair. Instead, it was back to his natural dark hair.

“What is this place, really?”

“The name reminds me of someone from my highschool days. But I only heard about it now, is it really good?”

“Yeah, totally! We should bring our superiors here, and see if we get a few favors, hmm? The onigiri here is a star-choice.” Osamu sees someone turned around, laughing prettily, smiling all-wide, they were bright. Until the same eyes he used to look at in such a close distance, caught his own. His heart skipped two beats, or maybe skipped beating this whole time, maybe he died because god, did he finally send his angel back to him?

It was when you uttered his name under your breath, from the entrance that rang the bell prior to the conversation he overheard earlier did he confirm it. “Hey pretty girl,” he says, as he takes off his cap, ruffles his hair, chuckling deeply, and looking directly back at you; your heart spasms. “Where have you been?”

Bonus:

“Yeah, he was a real bitch when I first talked to him in high school.” You badmouthed him loudly from your table, which made him yell from the kitchen, “I was trying to see if you’ll take my hand and put the note there, okay!” Laughing, you didn’t notice him stalking behind you until he placed a kiss on your cheek. “Grumpy-ass.”

Living with 'Samu! ⁆ End Credits

#miya osamu #Miya #Osamu #Haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu!!#Inarizaki #miya atsumu #Atsumu #Osamu x Reader #Osamu x you #suna rintarou #Slow burn #Angst

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

More “biting” 😉 stories of coops please?

Anon 1: Do you think you’d be willing to do more kinky coops? Maybe a follow up to truth or drink where Sirius gets tied up again?

Anon 2: Mixed prompts 80-83 pls!!

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! This is part 1 of today’s fics--hope you enjoy! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove, whom I love and adore.

TW for restraint kink, edging, smut, and hickeys

Mixed Prompt 80: “ You’re going to regret that sweetheart.”

81: “Are we clear?”

82: “Try to stay quiet, understand?”

83: “Don’t hold back, baby.”

“Did you see Coach’s email?” Remus asked as he scrolled through his inbox and reached for another piece of chocolate; they were shaped like little hearts, because Sirius was a sweet, sweet muppet of a man and had a romantic streak wider than the continental US.

“I did, yeah,” Sirius said from the doorway to the kitchen. “It’ll be pretty nice, having two days off in a row.”

Remus read through the rest of the message. Too much snow, unsafe conditions, practice cancelled, yada yada yada. A sudden thought struck him and he glanced up. “Hey, maybe we could try something a little more…”

Sirius grinned as the chocolate clattered to the countertop, along with Remus’ phone. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

Remus swallowed around the sudden dryness of his mouth. Chest. Arms??? THIGHS. FUCK. “Huh?”

“I was saving these for our actual day off, but it seems fate had other plans.” Sirius’ grin became a downright smirk as he quirked an eyebrow and bent his knee.

“When—how—what?” Remus couldn’t tear his eyes away from the tight, dark red fabric that covered Sirius’ legs up to his thighs. Bows. The socks had bows on the top, and they matched his underwear. “How long have you been standing there?”

Sirius shrugged. The upper half of his body was bare, and Remus tracked the movement of every muscle. “About five minutes. Your email must be very exciting.”

A soft whine escaped his throat. “Where did you get those?”

“Online.” Sirius flexed his thigh and all the air rushed from Remus’ lungs. “Why, do you like them?”

“I want to take them off with my teeth,” he blurted. “Fucking hell, Sirius.”

“That can be arranged.” Mischief played at the edge of his mouth as he began backing away. “Though you’ll have to catch me first.”

And he ran. Remus stood there in shock for a moment before sprinting after him, skidding on the floor as he grabbed the bannister. Sirius was already on the bed when he made it to their room and snapped the top of one thigh-high at Remus playfully.

“You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.”

“Promise?”

Remus was on him in an instant, sucking a bruise into the side of his neck as he pushed Sirius’ arms over his head and settled between his thighs, grinding his hips down. “How long have you had these?” When Sirius smiled instead of responding, he bit down on his shoulder. “Tell me.”

“Four days.”

“Where did you hide them?”

Sirius gasped at the pressure on his wrists. “Nightstand.”

“Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

A slow, smug look covered his face and he nipped Remus’ bottom lip. “Yes.”

“Turn over.” Sirius bucked his hips up instead, and Remus let go of his hands to flip him hard enough he bounced a bit, then attached his mouth to his shoulder blade. “God, you look fucking incredible in red, baby.”

“You think this was an accident?”

“Somebody’s feeling bratty.” Remus dragged his blunt nails down Sirius’ ribs, and he shivered. “Just for that, I’m going to finger you until you’re begging for it. Are we clear?”

Sirius turned his head to the side and rolled his hips back. “I’m not begging for anything.”

“We’ll see.” Remus continued mouthing along the strong line of his shoulders as he fumbled blindly in the nightstand drawer for the lube, then paused. He straddled Sirius’ waist and leaned over to sift through the various items that they had tossed in without thinking—playing cards, a book, Sirius’ tie, a few condoms that they hadn’t touched in months… “What the fuck?”

“What?”

“Where’s the lube?”

“Are we out?”

Dread pooled in Remus’ gut. The mere thought of trekking through the snow to get lube or—even worse—finding out all the stores were closed was almost enough to kill his boner. Almost. Sirius was still in red underwear and fucking thigh highs, after all. “No. We can’t be out. Didn’t we just buy some the other day?”

Sirius shrugged. “It’s been a while, I don’t know.”

“It has been a while,” Remus muttered.

“I think I put some in the laundry room so we would have extra.”

Relief made butterflies erupt in his chest and he kissed Sirius’ cheek. “You are so smart and I love you. Hang on one second, okay?”

Remus’ hands shook a little bit as he hurried back downstairs and down the hall, standing on his tiptoes to see into the cupboards. Laundry detergent, Windex, fabric sheets, two pairs of Jules’ socks…

He pushed the detergent aside and felt around for the familiar bottle. “Where the hell did you put it? Come on, baby, work with me here.”

Clear plastic caught the light on the highest shelf and Remus thumped his forehead against the washing machine. He got the stepstool with minimal grumbling and grabbed the lube, making a mental note to block that entire shelf and remind Sirius that he was five foot fucking eleven, which was well above average.

“Baby, we need to have a discussion about—” He stopped cold in the bedroom doorway, then sighed. “Really?”

Sirius arched his back as he pressed two fingers back into himself, his jaw going a little slack. “You were slow.”

Remus took a deep breath when he saw the half-full bottle of lube on the bed next to him. “Where’d you hide that?”

“Under my pillow. You didn’t even check.” Sirius’ breath caught as his hand changed angles, but his smile remained. “I thought you’d call me on it for sure.”

“You know, most people wouldn’t play terribly mean tricks on their fiancé on Valentine’s Day, especially when that fiancé was already going to fuck them so hard they can’t walk straight,” Remus said as he walked slowly toward the bed and tossed the other bottle next to Sirius. “You’d better count your lucky stars we don’t have practice for the next two days.”

“Oh?” Sirius eyes fluttered shut for a second and he reached for more.

Remus smacked his hand away. “Yes. Was the shelf really necessary?”

“I had to delay you somehow. Did you use the stepstool, or did you climb on the dryer?”

“None of your fucking business, tall-ass. Turn over.”

“Make me.”

Remus reached back into the nightstand and pulled the tie out, manhandling Sirius’ arms over his head and tying them to the small ring they had put in the headboard for that exact purpose. Sirius made a confused noise when Remus grabbed his silky-soft underwear off the foot of the bed and slid it back up his legs until it was snug and tight again. “Much better.”

“Wait, wait, wait, what happened to fucking me until I can’t walk straight?” Sirius’ eyebrows drew together and he nudged his leg against Remus’ side, only to have it guided back down by a firm hand. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” Remus said drily as he squeezed the thin strip of bare skin on Sirius’ thighs. “Between the super fun game of tag and then hide-and-seek, I thought you didn’t want me to touch you.”

“But you will, right?” Nervousness laced his voice. “Right?”

“Maybe. Might get myself off and then leave you here, though.” He leaned over and dragged his lips down Sirius’ chest. “I’m still on the fence.”

“Non, non, non, get off the fence. The fence is not a fun place to be.”

“Really?” He continued to the edge of Sirius’ waistband and dipped his tongue under the satiny fabric, then feathered his mouth along the outline of his dick until Sirius’ knees started inching upward in pleasure. “Hmm. I think it’s a great place to be, actually. You could beg yourself hoarse and I wouldn’t have to do a goddamn thing.”

“What do I have to do?” Sirius panted. The front of his boxers was already darkening with precome and his pupils dilated when Remus palmed himself through his pants.

“Try to stay quiet, understand?”

Sirius clenched his thighs around Remus’ waist as he pulled his shirt off, only to shakily straighten them out again when Remus fixed him with a withering look. His dick looked painfully hard as Remus got off the bed and slid his pants down his legs, giving Sirius a great view of his ass under the tight black underwear he was wearing.

“Oh, yeah, that was supposed to be a surprise for you,” he said mildly when Sirius whined. “It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. One of us was getting railed tonight.”

Sirius perked up. “Really?”

“That was the original plan. Now that you’ve got these—” He plucked the edges of the thigh-highs as he knelt on the mattress again. “—I might need to rethink that idea.”

“Nope, no you don’t.” Sirius wrapped his legs around Remus’ hips and tugged him down. “You really don’t need to rethink that, it sounds like a fantastic idea—”

Remus pressed his palm over Sirius’ mouth and pushed his legs down with the other. “What did I say about being quiet?”

A soft noise tore from his chest as Remus ran the heel of his hand up Sirius’ dick and felt it twitch beneath the fabric. “Desolée,” he said as Remus scooted backwards a few inches. “Desolée, mon coeur.”

“Good job.” Sirius sighed happily as he worked a hickey onto the bit of skin between his underwear and his socks, but his chest hitched when Remus moved barely an inch to the side.

“What’re you doing?”

“Decorating.”

“Me?”

He sighed and bracketed Sirius’ ribs with his elbows, resting his chin on his hands. “Yes, you. You’re beautiful, and I’m just making sure people know you’re appreciated. Now be quiet.”

“Nobody’s going to see those. They’ll be gone in three days.”

“I’ll know.” Remus placed a slightly darker bruise on his inner thigh and Sirius’ hips canted to the side with pleasure. He hummed against his skin, then pulled away. “I’ll have to finish these when I turn you over.”

“When?”

“If.”

“Re.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffed with a smile, leaning up for a brief kiss. “You know me better than that.”

Sirius’ eyes crinkled. “I do.”

“Let me enjoy myself in the meantime, yeah? I think I deserve it after everything you’ve done today,” he teased, adding new hickeys to Sirius’ other thigh until the bare skin was mostly dark lilac. He skimmed kisses down both his legs, paying special attention to the backs of his knees and the cute little bows at the tops of his thighs. “I love these.”

“Yeah?” A pink flush spread to Sirius’ chest.

“Yeah. Somehow, they’re both adorable and sexy.” Remus reached up and tapped his nose. “Just like you.”

And then he licked a long, slow stripe up the front of Sirius’ underwear, which made him shake from head to toe. “Oh, fuck me.”

“Not yet.” He did it again, this time giving his hips a squeeze. A choked moan slipped through and he shushed him softly. “Quiet, baby, remember? I’ll tell you when you can make noise for me.”

“Oh.” Sirius’ eyebrows pitched upward as Remus slowly slid the sticky fabric down and replaced it with his tongue. “S’il vous plait. S’il vous plait, mon cœur, je le veux, s’il vous plait. ”

“What did I tell you?”

“I—I—” Sirius clenched his teeth as Remus sucked just the head of his dick into his mouth. His abdomen jolted under Remus’ palms.

“You’re getting all accent-y.” Remus smirked, leaving a mark on the crest of his hipbone. “I told you that you could beg yourself hoarse and I wouldn’t have to do a god—” He kissed the soft skin below Sirius’ ribs. “—damn—” Another kiss, just under his sternum. “—thing.”

A tremor ran through Sirius and he pulled on his restraint for a moment, hard enough that the headboard creaked. “Ngh. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I think it’s time to finish those decorations, hmm?”

Sirius nodded enthusiastically and Remus untied his hands, flipping him by the hips for the second time. He practically purred as Remus tied him up again and pressed his hands into that broad back; Remus pushed his knees until they bent and Sirius propped himself on his elbows, breathing heavily and bare but for his thigh high socks.

“Color?”

“Green.” There was no hesitation in his voice.

“Good.” Instead of going straight to his legs again—which were flexed in the new position and doing absolutely wonderful things to Remus’ thought process—Remus grabbed the half-empty lube and poured some on his fingers.

“What’re you doing?” Sirius asked, trying to shift around and see. He froze when the first finger pushed in without an issue. “Huh. But—but you said—”

“I didn’t tell you to start making noise.” Sirius pressed his face into the pillow and his knees jerked inward as Remus added a second finger. “You already did this part for me, didn’t you?”

“Mhmm.”

“But I didn’t tell you to.”

“No.” The word was barely a whisper.

“And as much as I love you—” He kissed Sirius’ lower back and scraped his teeth along the dimples there. “—and want to make you fall apart, I can’t let you do whatever you want without consequences.”

“Yes, you can,” Sirius gasped, tightening around him as Remus pressed upward. “You can, I don’t mind.”

“No, I can’t, and you’d better be quiet before I drag this out even longer.”

There was a beat of silence while Sirius got ahold of himself again. “How long? The usual?”

“Since it’s Valentine’s Day, eight minutes.” Remus smoothed a hand up his spine and pressed down between his shoulder blades until most of his upper chest was on the pillows before slowly dragging his fingers in and out, pushing just next to his sweet spot until Sirius quaked with the effort of suppressing his moans. He added a third finger a moment later and Sirius’ thighs knocked together. “Hold yourself up, baby.”

Sirius pulled his elbows in once again, supporting his chest as Remus added a few new hickeys to his thigh and stretched him slow and deep. He gave his wrist a twist when he moved to the right side and Sirius dipped for half a second, one leg threatening to give out.

“Hold yourself up,” Remus reminded him, wrapping an arm around his lower belly and lifting slightly; Sirius’ breath caught and his shoulders folded in a bit. “You okay?”

“Ouais.”

“Alright. Two minutes left.” He pushed his fingers in further and felt the ripple of pleasure roll through Sirius under his mouth, then kissed the middle of his back. “Like that?”

“Uh-huh.” Sirius’ voice was tight with pleasure and wavered with swallowed moans.

Remus flexed his fingers and brushed against his prostate; Sirius nearly collapsed onto the bed and a whining noise was half-muffled by the sheets. “What was that?”

“ ‘s nothing, ‘s nothing, keep going.” Sirius tried to get to his elbows again, but even though Remus had stopped moving, he seemed to be having trouble. “Sweetheart, please.”

“You know the rules, baby. Five more minutes.”

“I can’t—I can’t—”

“You will.” Remus rubbed Sirius’ side to soothe him, but didn’t take his fingers out. “How about this: if you can hold yourself up and make no noises for two full minutes, I’ll fuck you and you can come whenever you want. Sound good?”

Sirius nodded frantically and struggled to get his knees under himself. “D’accord.”

“Time starts…now.” Remus kept his eyes on the clock as he plucked at Sirius’ seams, spreading his thighs to get a better angle when it looked like he was starting to relax into the feeling. One minute left. Something that would have been a moan if Sirius had a little less willpower lodged in his chest and he tensed around Remus, legs shaking with arousal. He was damn near dripping onto the sheets.

Forty-five seconds. Remus bit his lip and ran his free hand up Sirius’ thigh, digging into the bruises just enough to get his attention. “You look so pretty with these,” he murmured, leaving a trail of small bites down his spine. “It must have been hard finding thigh highs that fit, huh? You’re so strong, so beautiful, and I love that about you.” He made sure to run over Sirius’ sweet spot on every drag until his breaths got shallower and his dick twitched. Twenty seconds. “You don’t really want to come right away, do you? You like it when I take control. You like being tied down and edged until you’re a mess. Ten seconds left, baby.”

Sirius’ back bowed as Remus’ hand brushed his dick. “Pas juste,” he blurted, then groaned when Remus paused. “Fuck.”

“Was that a sound?”

“No, no it wasn’t.” He pushed back against Remus’ hand and whined when he pulled his fingers out. “Re, I only had five seconds left.”

“Bummer, isn’t it?” Remus said with mock-pity, rubbing wide circles along Sirius’ ass and thighs.

“One more chance?”

“We had a deal, love. Two minutes, no sounds, no falling. You did so well and then you tripped at the finish line.”

“You touched my dick.”

“Was that against the rules?”

Sirius huffed and glared over his shoulder, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the pink of his cheeks and the pleading look in his eye. “It was in my head.”

Remus made a sympathetic noise. “It’s a shame you’re not in charge today, then. Chest down.”

“I want to see you.”

“Later. Down.” Sirius rolled his eyes, but complied so his back sloped in a gentle curve; Remus smacked his thigh lightly. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Oops.”

“Apologize.” When he stayed silent, Remus slid two fingers back into him. “Sirius, apologize or I’ll get you off by fingering you.”

“I’m sor—sorry.” His hips jerked as Remus pushed on his prostate one last time.

“That wasn’t so hard, huh?” He pulled his own underwear down and tossed it to the side, reaching down to push Sirius’ thighs apart while he lubed up. “Don’t hold back, baby, you can be loud now.”

“Oh thank God,” Sirius breathed, shuddering a bit as Remus pressed in and began to move. “Oh—oh, oh fuck.”

“Color?”

“Fuck—green.” He gripped the poor necktie and twisted it in his hands while the pace made his knees slip. Remus put his arm around Sirius’ midsection once again while the other hand splayed on his back and held him down into the pillows.

The thigh highs began to bunch from all the movement and Remus slowed, reaching down to adjust them while Sirius clenched and unclenched his hands, mumbling out a string of pleas in English and French alike. Remus stilled for a moment and kissed the side of his neck as he relished in the heat.

“Move,” Sirius moaned, pushing back weakly. “Please, please move.”

“I love you so much,” Remus said into his sweat-slick skin as he started again, angling up on each thrust as he lifted Sirius’ hips into the right spot. “I do, baby. And I can’t wait to have two whole days to ourselves so I can admire those pretty bruises all over you.”

“Lemme—lemme see you. S’il vous plait, mon amour, I wanna see you.”

“Alright, shhh.” Remus combed a hand through his hair and untied his wrists; they were a bit pink from all the pulling, but otherwise looked fine. He gently pushed on Sirius’ shoulder so he could roll over and was met with glassy silver eyes and lips bitten so red they almost matched his socks. “Bonjour. Do you want me to tie you up?”

“Non.” Sirius smiled and pulled him down for a slow kiss, and Remus could feel his heartbeat hammering against his shoulder. “Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime,” he murmured back as he lined himself up again. Sirius’ eyes fell shut with a moan when Remus pushed in and he inhaled deeply, winding one leg with Remus’ and letting the other splay to the side.

“There, there, there,” he pleaded, grasping for a hold on Remus’ arms as his eyes flickered between open and shut. “Oh, fuck, je veux—je veux—”

“Do you think you deserve to come?” Sirius made a conflicted noise and pressed his knee into Remus’ thigh, only for Remus to pull it straight once more; the sock rolled down with each rocking movement. “Sirius, look at me. Do you want to come?”

It took a moment before Sirius made eye contact with him and nodded, struggling to get enough breath to speak. “Yes.”

“You were so rude earlier, but I did make you wait a long time.” Remus thought for a second, but didn’t slow his brutal pace that made Sirius turn his face into the pillows. “Can you come like this?”

“Touch me—touch me please—”

Remus lifted his lower back up and ran his teeth along Sirius’ pulse point, then wrapped a hand around his dick and jerked him quick and tight until high, incoherent sounds slipped through his lips. “Now.”

Sirius nearly kicked him in the shin as he arched his back, mouth falling open, moans muffled in the hollow of Remus’ throat. He babbled some string of whimpered words, caught between pushing Remus away and pulling him closer until their warm skin pressed across his entire front and his knees bumped together over the small of Remus’ back.

Remus followed him a moment later, sliding his mouth along Sirius’ collarbone before he came so hard his arms shook with it. A soft hand trailing through his hair brought him back to earth, though Sirius still looked dazed and shuddered every few seconds as Remus stroked a hand down his cheek and slid the thigh-highs back up with the other. “Shh, mon amour. Ça va, chérie, respire. Je t’aime tellement. ”

Sirius smiled and kissed him again, holding him close and warm as he pulled out. “I love it when you speak French,” he murmured. “Si beau.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Their quiet laughter buzzed against his chest and he littered Sirius’ face with kisses until his silver eyes cleared. “Are your wrists alright?”

With a heavy sigh, he let go of Remus and held them up. “All good.”

He kissed those, too, for good measure. “And the rest of you?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I think you achieved your goal.”

“Which one?”

“There is no way I’m going to be able to walk straight.”

Remus hid his laughter in Sirius’ neck and rolled to the side, gathering him into his arms. “It’s a good thing we have all weekend, then.” He checked the clock and sighed. “I should make dinner soon.”

“No.”

“No? I’m not allowed to make us food?”

“Nope.”

“But that’s my present for you.”

“Your present to me is currently on my thighs and won’t disappear in half an hour.” He felt Sirius smile and nuzzle closer, then gentle pressure on his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Payback.” Sirius rolled him onto his back and began speckling his neck and shoulders with small love bites, outlining his ribs with featherlight touches. Remus reached down and snapped the edge of his thigh high. “Hey!”

He grinned. “Couldn’t resist. You’re going to keep these, right?”

“Duh.” Sirius wound their legs together and cuddled into Remus’ side. “Mmm, you are so warm.”

Remus wrapped both arms around him and kissed the top of his head, closing his eyes. Naptime sounded good. Naptime, then dinner, then back to bed for more snuggles, or maybe something more. It was Valentine’s Day, after all.

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

The Next Morning

The first thing Sirius saw when he woke up was gray. The second was Remus’ shocked face, followed by an ‘oh, fuck’.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, propping himself on his elbows with a wince. His backside ached from yesterday’s activities, and his thighs were still incredibly sensitive—he noted that the matching rings of hickeys had not diminished much overnight with a sense of satisfaction. Remus was staring down at his phone as rain drizzled softly outside.

Wait. Rain.

Silently, Remus passed him the phone. Sirius squinted at the screen, blinking the drowsiness out of his eyes, then froze.

Hello team,

Due to improved weather conditions and snow melt, practice today has been rescheduled for 4 pm. Thank you for your flexibility.

Best,

A. Weasley

“Oh, fuck.”

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fandomscombine · 4 years

Text

Love and Sacrifice

A Fred Weasley x Reader and Adrian Pucey x Reader

BG: Fred didn’t know what went wrong. One moment you were happy together the next you reappear after months of silence only to came back engaged to Adrian Pucey. But what he doesn’t know is that you made the ultimate sacrifice for him.

Contains: Forbidden love. Arranged marriage. Angst alert! Get ready to feel the pain.

A/N: Was supposed to be just an outline, but kinda became a straight up full fic.

WC:1662

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

Weeks leading up to the day that Fred and George were to leave Hogwarts to start Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Fred had noticed you becoming distant. Though he didn’t put much though into that as to NEWTS coming up and you had been staying up most nights helping them sort out the joke shop’s paperwork instead of revising. He knew that this situation would be temporary and once you graduated, you would be moving out of your strict parent’s house to live in with him- as you both had planned.

However, after graduation, you were still giving him the cold shoulder and not replying to his letters. Even his siblings had noticed that after they left, you were acting weird-not talking much, low energy and generally not feeling like yourself. Although you had sat with the remaining Weasleys on the Hogwarts Express, you were unusually quiet, a shell of your past self. Similar to Fred, his younger sibling attributed this behaviour to being anxious in knowing the results of your NEWTS, which were set to arrive mid-July.

Fast-forward to a few weeks after graduation, you are now engaged to Adrian Pucey. You both were walking around Diagon Alley, doing some wedding shopping when a certain shop comes into view. Of course, you had only seen the concept art and blueprints, so you had an idea what it would look like, but it was even more magical seeing it in person.

Adrian catches a sight of your face and understands, understand that these past few weeks with him had been a whirlwind and acknowledges that you and Fred would need closure for both for you to move on. Adrian gave your hand a squeeze, ‘Go on y/n, I know you want to.’ Beckoning towards the shop. ‘We should at least give him the decency to tell him in person rather than him finding it out in the daily prophet that you are soon to be married. We are gonna have “The wedding of the year” as they call it.’

The whole time you were reluctant to approach him. Unable to predict how he would react to you popping up out of the blue.

With hands in your pocket, hiding your ring. You call out to him after 3 long months.

‘y/n?’ Fred did double take, almost not believing that you were real, the actual y/n that he loved, that disappeared is now within reach.

Emotions came rushing back. How foolish did you think that months apart, forcing him out of your mind would diminish everything you felt. Panicking, you dashed to the door.

Nevertheless, his long legs had quickly caught up to you. He tries to stop you from leaving him again, holding your arm back, you resisted yanking away his grasp.

His hand slides past yours, accidentally pulling off you ring too.

It falls to the ground.

Fred kneels down, getting to it first.

It’s even funny really, you though that he would be at that position before. Of course, under different circumstances.

He stares at the ring.

Right then Adrian reaches your side. “What are you doing with my fiancée’s ring?”

“Fiancée?”

‘Yeah my fiancée’ Adrian interlocks your hands. ‘The soon to be Mrs. y/n Pucey’

Fred chokes on air, turning redder than you’ve ever seen, you can see the veins in his arms contract.

The only time you saw him like this was when Malfoy insulted his family back in Year 5 quidditch match.

You turn to Adrian, with soft eyes.

He nods, understanding what you were asking. ‘I’ll be right outside, okay?’

‘Thank you.’

However, when you turned back, Fred was already walking away.

‘Fred! Wait!’ you finally caught up to him ‘Can we talk? Please.’

He stops, nodding though not bothering to face you. ‘In here.’ Leading you to his office.

Crossing his arms, he mocked. ‘So this is why you weren’t returning my messages.’

‘Fred….’

‘Cause you were with him all this time.’

‘NO!!! No… I wasn’t believe me.’

‘Then why?’ Fred was emotionally exhausted. ‘I just had the love of his life reappear after months of silence, only to find out that she’s engaged to someone else, someone I know she practically strangers with!’ Fred runs his hand through his hair, leaning defeated against the table. ‘Why did you leave me? You just disappear, like we didn’t have history. y/n. NO note. NO explanation. Just silence.’

‘Remember when you and George were trying to get this place up and running?’

‘Yea but what’s it got to do with all this?’

You raised a hand to stop him.

‘Do you recall that all your efforts were being blocked? The lease, the permits…..’ you exhaled. ‘Apparently that was my father’s doing.’

‘Your father??’

You nodded.

‘News got to him that we were dating- and no I don’t know how, but it did.’ You added, knowing what’s on his mind. ‘You know how my father is... with his traditional ways. He couldn’t believe that his only daughter was seeing a blood traitor. There was no way he would allow it.’ You shook your head. ‘So he used his influence in the ministry, pulled some strings in order to do whatever he could to stop you from building the joke shop.’

‘You and George were being held back with one thing to another, it’s unheard of to have a business struggle so much just to get the right paperwork. So I did some digging, I had my suspicions then, I knew it had someone powerful but what was curious was that you were faced with all these constant barriers that couldn’t possibly be an authority being throughout with the paperwork. No, it was more inclined to someone with a personal grudged.’ You explained.

‘So, I took a chance and confronted my father.’ Continuing on, you sneered. ‘It was funny cause he didn’t even bother to deny my allegations, said he was doing the right thing.’ You air quoted. ‘And that if I wanted it to stop. He would do so immediately, under the condition that I break up with you and agree to have an arranged marriage.’

‘What?’ Fred shocked by your confession. ‘y/n. Why did you agree? ’

‘It was the hardest thing I had to do, but I knew that it was for the best.’ You looked at him with melancholy. ‘It would be the best for you.’

‘You thought it would be the best for me, did you honestly thought that I would agree to this huh y/n?’ Fred challenged.

‘I did it so that you would have a bright and happy future, even if it meant that I won’t be in the picture.’

He scoffs.

‘Freddie..’ When he wouldn’t look at you, you tried again. ‘love…’

He winces at the nickname.

‘You have been wanting to turn this dream of having your own joke shop into a reality for the longest time. I know that burning unstoppable passion you have in bringing joy into the world ever since I’ve known you.’ Moving closer, you cupped his cheek. ‘Time and time again, you had overcome people’s discouragement on your passion, and you came up on top.’

‘So who am I to stop you from fulfilling your dreams? I can’t do that to you Freddie. I won’t be always to bear with the knowledge of holding you back. I can’t. I couldn’t Not to you. ’

‘So you sacrifice your own happiness for me to have mine?’

You shrugged.

‘Do you love him?’ Fred’s voice was strained.

You were caught off guard by his question. ‘Adrian?’

‘Yea.’

Gathering your thoughts together, you reasoned ‘I…..I…It’s only been a few week since we got engaged-‘

‘Do. You. Love. Him?’ Fred could feel his heart contracting. But he needed to know where he stood emotionally to you.

‘I like him.’ Blinking, you thought about your past couple of weeks with Adrian. ‘He’s sweet and nice. A really caring gentleman.’ You admitted. ‘Not exactly the typical evil Slytherin archetype either. So there’s that.’

‘That’s not exactly a high bar.’ Fred taunted causing you to chuckle.

‘But in time…given time. I don’t see why I won’t potentially fall for him.’ You replied truthfully.

You both just sat there, shoulder to shoulder on his office table. Hints laughter could be heard through the door. In contrast to this small room full of eery silence and tense with the gloom of a last goodbye.

‘Well..’ You stand, brushing your dress straight. ‘I guess that is all there is to say.’ You sent him a reassuring smile, eager to maintain this light ambiance between you. ‘I just dropped by for a quick visit you and to inform you of the upcoming wedding of the year. Thought that it be best to clear the air and be polite and give you a heads up personally rather than finding out about it in the daily prophet tomorrow.’

You wrap him into a hug, knowing that this would be the last time. ‘I’ll miss you.’

Fred held onto to you tighter, inhaling your scent. ‘I’ll miss you too.’ Compelling his brain to remember what you feel like, what you smell like. His The One That Got Away. Burying his face into your neck, he pleads. ‘Do this one thing for me please…. To make things easier.’

‘Anything’ you replied.

‘Tell me you don’t love me.’

You stiffen in his arms, pulling back a bit to see his face. ‘I can’t.’

You were about to walk away when once again he stops you.

The next thing you know, you were spun back into his arms, kissing with intense passion, pouring your hearts out, knowing that this is it. The final kiss. The final moment. This is where your stories diverge.

You broke apart, cherishing his face this close one last time.

‘Goodbye, Fred Weasley.’

With that you exit his office, leaving behind a perfectly happy life of what ifs and a heartbroken man surrounded by reminders of his achievements and happiness.

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley angst #adrian pucey #adrian pucey x reader #adrian pucey imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter angst #fandomscombine writes #weasley #weasley twins #weasley x reader #weasley angst #harry potter x reader

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honoredbastard · 3 years

Text

ෆ self indulgent and entilted

characters — bonten!rindou haitani + *yakuro nanami (oc) .

content and warnings — mentions of drugs ( yo sanzu ), clubbing, stalker mention, mention(s) of drugging, yelling, angst(?), swearing, and so on.

note — sorry for the dark content hhhhh, it came with the idea of ackerman being a yakuza that hated bonten and wanted yakuro gone. it may actually be apart of the fic i’m outlining..... these men hold my heart and WILL NOT LET GO OF IT. also they just like dive into my brain 24/7. help i had a fit over what looked best for three hours- at this point i’mma probably make a lil sum’ for sanzu. i love this man and i can’t stop having him appear in my stories that involve bonten. like this guy is 24/7 in the back of my mind.

*Yakuro Nanami. he/they/bun!

Now playing ayanami — by satin

rindou woke up first to yakuro wearing his bunny ears and a bunny pajama set that he seemed to just slip on before marching into bed. it was cute, but there was still smudges of makeup on his face and the dark circles of terrible inconsistent sleep. rindou sighed, brushing away blonde parts of hair that yakuro was chewing on.

“yakuro.” rindou lightly pushed yakuro’s shoulder, trying to wake the boy in his semi bunny work attire. “rindou? rindou....” yakuro groaned, his head searched for rindou’s lap or hand that he could lean into. just exist near, to feel his skin and be aware of his warmth, that he was alive and not dead. that he stayed the whole night. “morning doll.” rindou smiled quietly, brushing his fingers over the boy’s hair.

there was a knock on the door, “come in” as if that was a full offer to entangle himself with the couple he busted through the door and made a running start to jump onto the couple. “HI!” “i don’t do the touching, i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny.”

yakuro stated as if he was at work. it was grilled into his brain and always had to repeat it infront of new clients. working at a bunny suit club was not it, almost rolling over onto sanzu. “bad work day?” “bad work day.” rindou confirmed sanzu’s suspicions with three simple words. “yaku..” “no.” “yakuuu.” sanzu scooted in between the two, poking yakuro’s cheeks aggressively. he seemed sober, thank god.

rindou shrugged the mans presence off and trudged to the bathroom to wash and whatnot. “you have another shift, ran told me to wake you up. “that’s not my problem. tell my boss to go fuck himself with a dildo filled with nails.” sanzu’s eyes widened, that was aggressive. although at the same time sorta funny?

“he said he’d cut off your shift times and cut back on how much money you make plus tips.” sanzu repeated what ran had informed him of, with a quite frustrated appearance. “THAT FUCKER WILL NOT!” raising up from his laying position, yakuro ran into the hallway stumbling here and there from improper pace.

“i’d love to see him try i swear if he even tries reducing my pay i’ll quit the whole fucking job how about that? i never liked this bullshit bunny shit anyways, it’s annoying when the customers try to touch and then you get stalkers.” yaku was mumbling to hell and back from his bosses call, waving to ran who nodded. making himself a bento before heading off on a small mission.

yaku threw open the washroom door and started searching for his bunny suit attire. the club’s theme was rainbow today so he washed a deep red suit with a black add-on tail and clip on black ears (which were foldable too. yakuro always folds one ear.) when yakuro made it back to his room, sanzu was gone and rindou was crouching near the bottom drawer.

“whatcha lookin for?” yakuro asked curiously, sitting beside the man who made a mess beside him “looking for a red suit now, i’m trying to match with you subtly.” cute- that was the only thinking yaku could think of this man who is a part of a criminal organization/gang. who woulda thought?

“i think you might be better with either a red with black tie or a deeper red of a suit.” yakuro suggested, getting up from his sitting position, joints cracking. “or black would go well, after all i’m only wearing red heel, a red body suit, and red makeup. the rest is black!” yakuro called out to rindou who was still crouched as he exited the room. taking into account his suggestions, he went with a more black with red accents attire.

ާlocation, bunny palace! ෆ late night, 11pm.

“here in bunny palace we have many bunnies to suit your taste! male, female, and even those who do not define themselves! run and created by the ackermans.” bunny palace is under the hands of those with the ackerman name. mikasa, the current owner, is softer on us than many. although the music blaring is not something you can get used to.

“hello! i’m moonie! it’s so good to meet you, are you new here?” yakuro was tired, it was about 4 more hours until he shift ended and he was already hungry again. salad’s really don’t fill you up especially when you wolf them down. his feet ached and cried out each time he took another step, he wanted to lay down and use rindou as his personal body pillow.... rindou! ‘i hope he’s okay.’ he thought, placing himself beside the very important client his boss claimed. “oh i am! it’s nice too meet you moonie.”

“it’s so good to meet you too! we have a few rules here that our bunnies tell each new client: i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny. please keep touching to a minimal. do not force your bunny drinks or food. respect your bunny. is that doable?” yakuro asked with big puppy eyes, a big smile, and high pitched voice. “of course!” the customer happily said, hand already on his thigh.

i am SO uncomfortable was all that yaku could think about, his eyes flicking between the customer and each place his gross hands laid upon. squeezing every-so often like it was a pleasuring act for yaku. before he removed the man’s hand, he restrained himself. drawing a large breath before responding to the customer. “i’m so sorry sir! shall i get you something to drink?” yaku pouted, “if you’d like, moonie!” i’m saved.

yakuro smiled and stood up, “why of course! i’ll be right back!” like a breath of relief, he rushed to the staff room. he waved to some girls, “not on stage today moonie?” one asked, a baby stripper new to the bunny palace club. “yeah! boss was all: ‘act cutesy, be close, allow touching this once. there are really important customers here today.’ like thanks for threatening my paycheck and then saying that!”

“oh my, that’s rough babe. ackerman is always like that, it’s like she has a stick up her ass.” one of the older strippers that had been with yakuro since he started chimed in, “you’re right!” yaku chuckled, leaning closer into his vanity mirror to adjust his lipstick and have a chance to message rindou.

40 missed messages. “i’m so fucked.” “why’s that babe?” “i may have forgot to message rindou telling him ackerman added hours onto my shift.” the room grew tense, “that’s awful? read his messages.” sei suggested, “might cool him off if he’s angry.

“alright!” yaku sighed with a smile, opening the messages. to his surprise, rindou wasn’t angry but instead worried that a client had gotten too touchy and triggered yakuro. after all, ran did inform rindou about the bits and pieces that sanzu did not tell yaku. “whew, i’m good! i’m safe. he’s just worried....” sei and bab took a loud sigh and began laughing. “BUT I’M FUCKED.” “really? that’s great! now go out! your client must be waiting.”

yup the girls took it that way. “i will! don’t worry don’t worry. i just hope sanzu doesn’t buy the whole club.” “he won’t now go!” sei pushed out yaku who glanced over at the client who finished the previous bottle. his nose was red and was slightly swaying back and forth.

walking up to the bar, yakuro ran into polaris. “polar!” “moonie.” “can you get something for my client? he seems to be a lightweight.” “sure, i’m sure he wouldn’t mind beer.” polar sat down the cup he was wiping back and forth to keep busy.

“the bar isn’t very busy huh?” “oh no, it’s just we got our best girls today dancing and the waitresses and working ten times harder. it works out for both of them and neither of them have to fight each other about unfair pay. tomorrow you’ll be our best so good luck.” polar smiled earnestly to add to the words of encouragement, sliding over the foaming beer over the black marbled counter.

“thanks! i’ll need it.” turning with the drink in hand, yaku noticed the man’s disgruntled face. he looked as if the whole world was going to blow up and he was watching the countdown. ‘act cutesy, act cutesy, act cutesy.’ it was a constant mantra in his head before he sat down and opened his mouth.

“what could be wrong sir?” yaku felt like rolling his eyes into oblivion, he could care less. “oh it’s just something wrong with the gang.” “oh my, a yakuza?” boring, yaku fake gasped handing over the bear to the angered man. “yeah!” he said pridefully with a chuckle, gulping the drink down and slamming it down. “something about bonten this and that and one of our men died.”

now that’s interesting. yaku felt like walking out to just go see sanzu, it felt like everything was reminding yakuro of him. hell even the purple lights were. but alas he was stuck eyeing the entrance while the man babbled on and on about this whole yakuza shin-dig he was in. he decided to slip off his shoes because the waitresses’ assured the man that they would handle getting drinks.

it felt like hours, drink after drink the world became more hazy. yakuro grew a high tolerance because of his job but he seemed to be losing himself while the client seemed more than sober. “you.. slipped somethin, huh?” the client beside him flinched, clenching onto his bag. “w-what? are you sure you don’t have a low tolerance m-mr. moonie?” the man stammered, through gritted teeth yaku managed to huff out a ‘whatever’.

“miss. ackerman set you up? thought so, the bitch never liked me because i have a bonten member for a partner. guess i’m finally leaving this hellhole. send her my best regards, yeah?” he asked with a agitated tone. his words were laced with threats, raising slowly. “mr. moonie?” “i’m leaving, i want to leave. i have to go see rindou.” he dug the acrylic nails that were done just recently into his thigh. fuck the shoes.

whatever was in the drink didn’t seem strong but it had yakuro in and out of conscience. the man who was once his client seemed nowhere to be found, leaving a stumbling yaku to himself. sei noticed this and dropped her waiters plate, running over to the bunny who was just about to fall. “MOONIE!”

ާlocation, the bonten loft. early morning, 3am.

blue eyes fluttered open, fighting the urge to close once more. “they’re awake! rindou, they’re all good!” a familiar voice echoed throughout yakuro’s head. his body felt numb, in an attempt to speak he noticed his voice was gone. every one of his senses felt like they were being drowned under water. his eyesight was the only thing that was significantly normal.

though his contacts seemed to be taken off, leaving the blue and purple hues of yaku’s true eye colour roaming free. rindou’s footsteps were heavy and had a quick pace, the vibrations went through the bed. “yaku?” his usual docile purple eyes were filled with worry and anger mixed together, forever burning until yakuro got better.

all the man managed to do was a weak smile, his eyes blinked slowly while he stared at rindou. the two conversed, rindou’s agitation growing as his jaw clenched harder with every muffled word sanzu spoke. “i am very upset sanzu, yakuro was drugged. AGAIN!” “we can’t do anything but sit it out! we don’t even know who it was. rindou you need to calm down.” sanzu too was frustrated beyong belief.

the whole loft was filled with tension that was denser than a brick wall. everyone considered yakuro a part of bonten after two years. he even got a bonten tattoo per mikey’s request. it lays on his right shoulder which he covers up during his job with makeup despite his hatred, it was the only condition ackerman gave him before he could work at bunny palace. ackerman and bonten hated each other, seeing a bonten tattoo at the ackermans would start a war.

“he’s quitting that job and working at our club. this is the last time i’ll EVER see him like this again.” this wasn’t the first time rindou raised his voice when he was angered by the way yakuro looked in this condition. unable to move, speak, only look plainly at the wall with a weak smile here and there.

it tore him apart from the inside out each time, it did every member living in the loft. finally after whatever happened between those two. sanzu left, rindou left as well but returned with water and began to cuddle the numb and quiet yakuro.

#toyko revengers #tokyorev #tokyorev imagine #tokyo revengers rindou #rindou haitani #rindo haitani #x oc #fanfiction #tokyorev fanfiction #tokyo revengers fanfiction #bonten #tokyorev bonten #ran haitani #sanzu haruchiyo #angst #soft ending #angst with a hopeful ending #𝄖entiwrites

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ashyblondwaves · 3 years

Note

Ooohhhhhhhh

Vision accidentally 🍆 in public?

I think you might have talked about this before? Like if he hears one of his and Wanda’s sex songs in the supermarket etc and they bang to relieve the strain?

Maybe in the outnumbered universe?

You know what? Let's do this one! I've had this other request in my inbox for two months now and I think it's time to get it rolling. Thank you to @anniemar for helping come up with Vision's boner song.

Would you consider writing a fic where Wanda and Vision have a sex playlist and it’s super hot and sensual and then they just hear one of their songs while they are out and about (like the supermarket or something) and Vis gets a boner so they have to sneak away for a quickie. And Wanda is just like wow you got really into that playlist huh but she’s not gonna complain when he just gave her the ride of her life in a goddamn supply closet or something.

Outnumbered: Shopping

Rating: Explicit

"The boys need more oatmeal," Wanda said, slowly pushing the grocery cart up the cereal aisle with a slight waddle. Her second trimester was just ending and it was starting to get a little difficult to navigate the world. She wouldn't say it, but the cart helped her balance. "They like the apple cinnamon, remember."

"Of course, dear," Vision replied. He easily plucked the box of oatmeal from the high shelf, lobbing it into the cart like a basketball.

"That was much easier than when I try to grab the box," Wanda laughed. "I should bring you shopping with me more often."

"We'll really need to thank Pepper for coming over to stay with the boys," Vision said. He fell into step with Wanda, a leisurely stride. "

"You should make her those peanut butter cookies she likes," Wanda suggested. "Since you're the one that insisted on doing the grocery shopping with me."

"In your condition-"

"I'm pregnant, Vis," Wanda said, shaking her head. "It's not a condition. We've talked about this."

"I've just read that grocery shopping can induce anxiety and," Vision looked down at Wanda's growing stomach. "We wouldn't want undue stress on the little one."

"Grocery shopping doesn't give me anxiety," Wanda answered, keeping to herself that Vision's fussing over her pregnant state gave her more anxiety than the shopping. "I like doing it. But I'm still glad you're here."

Wanda smiled at her husband, phased into his human form and dressed more relaxed than usual, deciding at the last minute to wear his sweatpants to the store. He meant well, Wanda knew that, but sometimes Vision's good intentions became suffocating. Wanda could still do things for herself, but convincing Vision of that was a challenge sometimes. When he got it in his mind that something was stressful or upsetting, he wouldn't let it go and insisted on helping.

"Where to next?" Vision asked intently. "How are the boys on their animal crackers?"

"We'll need to get more," Wanda nodded, navigating to the cookie aisle to grab the boys their favorite snack as the song on the grocery store's radio began to play a song very familiar to both Wanda and Vision.

I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight I've never seen you shine so bright

It was a song from their secret playlist, used only after the boys had gone to bed and Wanda and Vision were alone to explore and enjoy each other. They played it softly in the background in hopes drown out any noise that may escape the confines of their bedroom.

Vision swallowed hard, looking over at Wanda with a knowing grin as her cheeks warmed and the store closed in around the two of them.

Wanda's concentration was off, suddenly forgetting about the animal crackers and instead thinking about the last time her husband tasted her. The same song was playing as he kissed and nipped the inside of her thighs and found her wet center, sweeping his tongue between her folds eagerly.

It seemed that Vision was thinking the same. He squirmed where he stood, hunching over slightly and making useless attempts to adjust the sweatpants around his very visible erection. It pressed against the gray fabric as Vision frantically tried to hide himself from the rest of the shoppers.

Wanda's middle was suddenly throbbing. Seeing her husband's reaction to the song was an unexpected turn on for her. She grabbed Vision's hand, abandoning the cart in the middle of the cracker aisle and walked as quickly as her belly would allow to the other side of the store that sold clothing and houseware. She snatched a couple of maternity shirts from their display.

"I'm going to go in the changing room," Wanda said, looking down at the extremely apparent outline of Vision's cock against his sweatpants. "Phase in when the employee isn't looking."

Vision nodded, waiting near the counter to hide himself as Wanda and the store associate headed to changing room number 3 and as his wife disappeared into the room he waited for the associate to become distracted.

It didn't take long. When another associate asked for help with a shipment, the changing room employee disappeared behind a wall of bras. Vision moved fast, zipping into the changing room hallway and easily finding room 3. He phased through the locked door to find Wanda waiting for him standing in just her shirt.

"Simple, right?" she said, grabbing Vision's shirt. "We have to be quick."

"Quick," Vision repeated, finding Wanda's lips and as they kissed, moans getting swallowed and muted, they moved back against the wall as Wanda hoisted her legs up and wrapped them around Vision. She hung on, arms wrapped around his neck, as he pulled the sweatpants down and freed his cock from the confines of the sweatpants.

"All because of a silly song," Vision lamented, pressing the head of his cock against Wanda's middle. "A nonsensical..." he pushed into her "song."

They kissed again, fighting against the moans that threatened to echo through the changing room station as Vision's hands moved to cup Wanda's ass, holding her in place while he drove into her.

Wanda wanted to speak. She wanted tell Vision that she loved him, she needed him. She wanted to tell him everything but she knew it would never come out. The way she felt filled up by him, his pelvis hitting her clit with each thrust, all that would come out would be a clamor of sounds that had to remain silent.

Vision dropped his head in the crook of Wanda's neck, planting kisses to her soft skin as his breathing increased, a sign he was getting ready to come. He pinned her against the wall a little harder, moving one hand from her ass to her clit. As he thrust he rubbed the sensitive bud until Wanda could feel herself close to the edge.

With a few more sweeps of his fingers against her clit, her world shrank and her orgasm took over, coursing through her body and down to her toes, making them curl against Vision's back. She began to shake, no longer able to hold on to her husband or find it in her to hover, but Vision's steady hands were there to hold her as her body unraveled and her center pulsed around his cock.

Vision kept moving, slower and then faster, just fast enough to edge himself to orgasm. A few more thrusts and he stopped, a muffled moan trapped in Wanda's neck told her he was coming, filling her. Becoming one with her.

Small fingers ran through Vision's hair as she held him close, neither of them ready to separate. But they had no choice. The risk they took was looming over them, ready to strike at any second. Vision pulled out, tucking himself back into his sweatpants as Wanda slowly lowered herself to the ground. She searched for her clothes that were balled up in the corner of the seat in the changing room.

They gathered themselves in quiet, both satiated and on alert. Wanda left the room first, walking back over to the maternity section. She eyed the items, trying to keep her smile from giving away that she'd just been freshly fucked.

Vision joined her a few minute later as she looked at a flowing dress white sundress that would be perfect for those late summer days when she'd be close to giving birth.

"Should I get this?" Wanda asked, holding it up against her body. "Would this look alright?"

"It would be beautiful on you," Vision said, reaching out to touch the soft lace. "Get it."

Wanda smiled, cloaking the dress over her arm as she grabbed Vision's hand and started walking away, hoping upon hope that a store associate hadn't gotten to their abandoned cart in the cookie aisle.

#scarletvision #scarletvision fic #wandavision #wandavision fic #outnumbered au #outnumber au drabble #wanda x vision #wanda and vision #fanfiction #wanda maximoff #the vision

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whatmack · 3 years

Note

Hi! I know it's been a while since you wrote it, but I recently re-read in Flanders Fields, and I needed you to know how much I love it. It's maybe my favourite piece of fanftiction ever, and it has a very special place in my heart. I read it first when it was still being published, and it's been living in my mind rent free ever since. I was wondering if there was anything you left out of it that you wanted to talk abt? Dw if you don't wanna respond to this, it's mostly to let you know how much I loved this fic (and also to try get myself some extra content ;p )

Thank you so much! That’s-- ah, this means a lot to hear. It’s fucking wild that IFF went up less than a calendar year ago, huh? The aesthetic choice to have Neil not wearing a mask in surgery did not age well One of the things that I really enjoy about writing fanfiction is that you’re working with a reader base who already has a body of information about the characters, relationships, etc., and whatever you change, or don’t change, you can still imply things or have background interactions that don’t requrie as much in-text explanation, because it’s reasonable to assume your audience will pick up what you’re putting down based on what they already know. (It’s why, for example, in BAST from the year before, I was skimpy on the details of Nathan and Lola’s violence, and on Andrew’s abuse. The readers already had the relevant basics, and I tried to toss out enough details about what changed so that, hopefully, y’all’d get the picture.) That said, the reference to Kevin’s tattoo in the chapter with the wine cellar has never sat quite comfortably with me. The scene itself I kept in not just for the trivia (that’s based on a real event, one that I doubt was isolated, of soldiers being ordered to blow an alcohol cache and drinking themselves silly instead), but because I wanted to keep up with the narrative of Andrew protecting Kevin, and also how he protects “his” other people with Kevin as an example. The tattoo was an easter egg to myself, and to the readers, to indicate to us why Kevin was upset, though Andrew didn’t know the specifics. (More after the cut)

But I wish I had put a bit more buildup to that, a bit more backstory. In the fic as a whole I feel it sticks out as a random detail, and I’d have liked to either remove it and find something else to reference, or seed more of Kevin’s backstory earlier, so the tattoo, and Kevin touching it when remembering shit that upset him, wasn’t so-- weird? Incongruous? Because I didn’t include the backstory in the story proper, I had only a vague outline of what Kevin’s life had been like pre-Andrew’s Squad. Therefore this isn’t going to hold up to the level of fact-checking and forehead-creasing-late-night-museum-website searching that I tried and sometimes almost succeeded in applying over the rest of the fic. That said, what was in MY head while writing, was: Like in canon, the Moriyamas set Kayleigh up to be killed in an accident (likely horse-drawn-carriage, though there WERE some automotive vehicles around pre Model-T-Ford), and took Kevin to be, well, Riko’s. Instead of Exy, Kevin was raised to be Riko’s retainer, second, bodyguard...whatever Riko needed. Or wanted. I’ve shunted Riko and Kevin, at least, to England for this, because the US did fuckall in WWI. Kevin endured canon-typical abuse from Riko, including the paired face tattoos, but also excelled in the training and tasks the Moriyamas set him; he was in particular a very skilled shot. Riko did not break his hand (that big ol’ rock from the shell blast did that, whoop), but after a particularly ugly altercation on the eve of war Kevin made his defiant stand by running away and enlisting in the Irish army, not the English, out of loyalty to the mother he barely remembered. It took Wymack a while to track Kevin down after Kayleigh’s death. Once he did, he spent the following years attempting get Kevin away from the Moriyamas. Unfortunately-- though to his credit-- this garnered their attention. As a Filipino man in Britain, he already had difficulty finding work; as a Filipino man who had made himself a nusiance to a powerful crime family, it became impossible. He joined the army to keep from starving on the street, and found to his surprise that he was good at it. He gained a reputation among the enlisted men for being impossible to kill-- for being lucky-- something that provided him with a great deal of dark amusement. Despite continued trying, he did not manage to meet Kevin until Kevin wound up under Whittier’s command. By then he knew Kevin was his child; I haven’t decided how, or when, he found out.

#fic: in flanders fields #wHOOSH #thank you so much!!! ahhhHHH i'll offer you a social-distancing hug or polite wave of your choice #alcohol //#Anonymous

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thadelightfulone · 3 years

Text

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 13

A/N: Yes, this is another update since I fell behind. ENJOY!!! Back to our regularly scheduled program later this evening.

December 6th

DeeDee swore off going out with her friends for a while. Phyllis was getting on her nerves and Beverly could only do so much. DeeDee didn’t even understand the hostility that was coming from her best friend. And now was not the time for her to be stressed out by shit she couldn’t control, like her best friend’s actions and reactions. So, it was time for a break and to focus on more important things, like her defense presentation.

She had chosen her PowerPoint background weeks ago. She drafted her presentation outline weeks ago. But she hadn’t yet put any of it together, even with all the time she spent in the library. Then again, the last time she was studying there, she found Erik’s note.

“Oh crap,” DeeDee grabbed her phone off the charger and saw multiple messages from him.

Prince Erik: Good morning Miss DeeDee

Prince Erik: I hope you have a good day and get some rest. You definitely need it. 😘

Prince Erik: Good night DeeDee

Prince Erik: Enjoy your day Miss DeeDee

Including a voice message, “Damn.”

VM: Sleeping Beauty

Do you know that you talk in your sleep? I learned quite a bit from you when you fell asleep mid-sentence last night.

Don’t worry, I won’t hold any of it against you...unless that is what you really want. Then what the lady wants, the lady gets.

I won’t tell you how long I stayed on the phone after you knocked out, but I’m sure that your phone probably died after I ended the call.

Whenever you get up, hit me up. I have some questions for you, pretty lady.

Later

After that eventful night out with Beverly and Phyllis, all she remembered was drunk dialing him, him answering the phone and then nothing else until she woke up late the next afternoon with a dead phone. She put it on the charger, but never checked any of her alerts and went right back to sleep until this morning.

DeeDee picked up her phone and went to her recording app. She didn’t want to flood his phone responding to his texts. And since he usually worked on weekends, she decided to send him a voice message instead.

She walked over to her patio door, opened the curtains and sat down at her desk. DeeDee opened up her laptop and pulled up all the documents she would need. It was time to get to work. Less than 2 weeks until D-Day.

---

Erik looked down at his phone for the umpteenth time that day and then walked the floor. It was weird, he hadn’t heard anything from DeeDee since he hung up on her Friday night. She was gone gone and yet, she still tried to talk to him. A sleepy drunk. He thought it was cute but he knew that hangover was gonna be a killer.

He hoped that she was ok. He still sent his usual text messages but he also sent a voice one because she said somethings that had him thinking. And it is said that ‘a drunk mouth speaks a sober mind.’ If that holds true, DeeDee laid herself bare in the most beautiful way, and yet she may not remember any of it. What a shame.

Erik moved to stand by the window of his office, while DeeDee’s words took up residence in his mind. He stopped focusing on his weekly reports an hour ago. His impression of DeeDee and the reality that each day his feelings about her being the one for him became stronger and stronger, cradled her very words to him from the night before.

A loud buzzing sound against his wooden desk, halted his wayward thoughts. He walked over and picked it up. It was a voice message from DeeDee. He unlocked his phone and opened it.

VM: Greetings From Louisiana

Good morning Erik,

I can’t believe you let me go to sleep on you the other night and didn’t say anything. Anyways, since I have no recollection of what I said, take it with a grain of salt. Please and thank you.

Sorry for not responding to anything yesterday. I just slept the day away in recovery. Nothing stronger than wine for me for a while.

I do hope you are free to talk tonight. I may not have much time over the next week or so as I prepare my final presentation for my dissertation. But I really enjoy talking to you and don’t want to miss out.

I’m probably rambling again. So, yeah. Just let me know if you have time and we can go from there.

Byeeee

Her voice always brought a smile to his face. He logged off his computer, grabbed his briefcase and locked up his office. He would have stayed there if she called, but since she didn’t, it gave him the perfect out. He could work from home and still talk to her until she needed to go.

---

DeeDee had just finished putting her talking points into her presentation file, when her cell phone rang. Erik. He must have gotten her message. She saved the file and opened the application.

“Hi Mr. Erik.”

“Hello Miss DeeDee.”

“I missed hearing that.” She said shyly.

“Oh, you did? Could have fooled me.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? I’m not the one who said hi, some other stuff and then passed the hell out on the phone.” He shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. “I mean, I know I can put you to sleep, but that is not how I would do it.”

“You know what?” She started to laugh.

“What?”

“I can’t stand you.”

“Uh huh.” His voice was calm. “Lie again Miss DeeDee.”

“I’m not. I mean it.” DeeDee stomped her foot on the floor.

Erik laughed, “If you say so. But I think you feel differently about me.”

“Sir, remember I do not know what I said. I don’t remember anything after calling you.”

“And slurring my name?”

DeeDee groans, “So, that did happen?”

“Heeeeeeey Erik,” he mimicked her tone.

“Oh my god.”

“It was cute though. It lets me know you were thinking of me even when you were completely out of it.”

“I promised to call you when I got home.”

He paused, “You know what, you did honor my request to hear from you to let me know that you made it home safely.”

“Exactly.”

“So, it seemed like you had a very fun evening.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t say that.” DeeDee sighed, “One of my best friends who seemed excited for me to look for you, is now acting really funny towards me and I don’t understand it.”

“Funny how?”

“Well, can I share something with you?”

“DeeDee, you know you don’t have to ask that. If you want to tell me anything, I will listen.”

“Thanks E.” She curled her legs under her in the desk chair. “Remember how I said that I knew my career would take me away? You know traveling and experiencing the world and such.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I haven’t told anyone that I have applied for tenure-track positions far away from Louisiana.” She exhaled deeply. “I got upset when she said that I would never leave here, among other things. But at that same time, it hit me that I never told them that I wanted to leave. So, they have just always assumed I would be around for whatever.”

“I see. So, what about your other friend who was with you both.”

“Oh, she’s fine. They both want me to live life, but she is the only one who appears to really support it. So, I know she will be fine when and if I do leave.”

“You mean, when you leave.”

“From your lips, to God’s ears. I have gone through many interviews, but the waiting game is a lot for me to deal with.”

“I understand that. But just focus on your defense. The full-time position will come.”

“I know, and besides, there is always a postdoctoral fellowship too. And those look great on CVs.”

“Exactly. You can apply for one of those and work at another school until you find the school that fits you.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But Dr. O and Dr. Bell both think that I don’t have to worry and will get an offer my first time out.”

“I believe that, too. You are a bright woman, DeeDee. Any school would be lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, Erik.”

“You’re welcome.” Erik took a deep breath, “Speaking of Dr. Bell. I will be at her retirement party in a few weeks.”

“Really?” DeeDee squeaked into the phone, “I am so sorry that I keep yelling in your ear like that.”

“It’s ok. I knew to pull it away this time.”

“So, what does that mean?”

“Well, I was hoping that we could meet and you let me take you out while I’m in town. What do you say?”

“I would love that.”

“Good, so it’s a date?”

“It’s a date.” DeeDee giggled.

Taglist: @teakturn @ghostfacekill-monger @shaekingshitup @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @woahitslucyylu @ladymac82 @bugngiz @eyeknowmywrites @ajspencer1892 @arafatih @issimplyaamazinggg @tchallasbabymama @killmonger-fics @beautifullmelodyxx @raysunshine78 @fd-writes @ljstraightnochaser

#25 days of christmas challenge #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #bp christmas #all i want #thadelightfulone

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lemonsandstrawberries · 4 years

Text

Reflex and Control

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

summary: Sometimes, Steve wishes that Tony could control his reflexes better.

length: 1 036 words

a/n: this fic is a part of my 8th Stony Anniversary and is based on this prompt! pure tickle fluff ahead! hope you enjoy the fic, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated and needed!

—————

Reflex and Control

"Omp- ahaha... Khhh!"

"OW!"

Tony laughed loudly, pressing his hand down to the spot where just a few seconds ago, Steve's mouth had been gently gnawing on, shielding the sensitive skin. There was a strong urge in him to roll into a tight ball, which was successfully stopped by Steve’s form laying on his legs, keeping him pinned down on the bed.

There was no room to move his legs, but it was his hands causing the most problems, trying to knock Steve down each time it was getting good and ticklish. Still, it was so nice and it showed by the big smile on his face and in the way his skin tingled, remembering the soft, ticklish feeling. Tony was enjoying it. Steve, maybe not so much, judging by the irritated look on the soldier's face.

"Really, Tony?" Steve asked with a huff, rubbing his sore temple. He would be worried about bruises if it wasn't for the super-soldier serum, because, man, Tony had some mean swing.

"Sorry!" Tony lifted his head, making a sincere effort to show that he regretted hitting his boyfriend, but his lips were stretched in a smile and voice trembled with suppressed laughter. It was cute, but also unnerving, especially because this whole thing was Tony's idea and he couldn't even do the courteous thing and stay still.

Slowly, Steve was giving up, the irritated feeling going away. "You asked me to do this, remember?" Steve said, brushing fingertips slowly against the bare skin on Tony's soft stomach. Immediately, he got a reaction and Tony opened his eyes wide, sucking in a long breath. There was some tension in his body, until a soothing feeling took over, and Tony thunked his head back on the pillow, giggling softly, doing his best to control his twitching hands from coming up and protectively wrapping around himself.

"Haha - hihi..."

That was better. The way Tony stayed still, only his stomach sucking in and trembling under Steve's fingertips and the ongoing laughter. There was a lot of trust in the action because there were not many people, bah, Steve probably was the only one, who Tony would allow to tickle him so softly and intimately. Roughhousing with Clint or being silenced by Natasha's tickling fingers whenever she decided Tony had blabbed for too long kept happening, but this moment was only between them. Only for Steve.

Steve hummed in approval, watching his fingers gliding down the smooth skin, applying some pressure, and watching the skin give in. There was something great about Tony's belly, invitingly soft and slightly round but with hard core muscles, the outline of them showing each time Tony sucked a breath in. It was a wonderful contrast.

"If you slap me again," Steve warned, dotting his fingers along the lower belly, feeling Tony spasming under him, "I will tie you down."

"Nohohoho," Tony laughed, half-aware that it was an empty threat. When he had asked Steve to play with his stomach, something they both were big fans of, they didn't agree on tying. It was supposed to be just like this, Steve tickling him, long and soft, and Tony absolutely melting under his touch.

"Then don't slap me," Steve offered a solution, bringing his face closer, and pressing a long kiss on Tony's side.

"AH! Ahahaha it is a refleehhehehex!" Tony explained himself, fingers twisting into the covers, just having to hold to something. Here it started again.

"Then control your reflexes better," Steve said and it was all the advice he gave, before using his lips to gently lap at the soft spot above Tony's hipbone. Immediately, fireworks launched in Tony's mind, and the ticklish feeling took over every nerve on his body, causing him to twist his waist, but obediently he kept his hands down. The urge to protect himself and slap the attacker was strong, but the pleasure coming from the touch was even stronger.

Steve took his time, mapping with his lips every inch of skin on Tony's side and showering it with ticklish affection. It all went well until he moved his lips closer to the middle of his boyfriend's stomach and Tony already started panicking.

"Nahahaha! Waitwaitwait!"

"Hm?" Steve looked up, giving his boyfriend a break. Tony was looking back at him, his chest rising with every quickened breath and eyes sparkling from laughter.

"Ummmm..."

"Yes?" Steve asked, encouraging his boyfriend to voice himself. Yet, Tony had this stunned expression on his face, as if not expecting that Steve would actually listen to him and that made him laugh. "Reflex again?"

"I can't control it!" Tony said, puffing his cheeks out. It was all very simple. His stomach was very ticklish but he liked being tickled there. His outie belly button was extremely ticklish, but it was also extremely enjoyable to be tickled there. And that's where Steve's mouth was coming closer and even if the pleasure coming would be outstanding, Tony still felt anxious. It was a natural reaction.

"You are so cute," Steve cooed, hearing Tony groan in embarrassment, "my sweet belly," he said, lowering his head again and tracing lips all over his boyfriend's stomach, drawing zigzag patterns.

"EEEEE - hihihihihi!"

Steve smiled internally, loving how Tony's stomach quivered and shook with every giggle. It was mesmerizing.

"So, you say that this is a very sensitive spot?" Steve asked, because a little teasing couldn't hurt, brushing the tip of his nose over Tony's sticking out outie, just for fun, from left to right and then back again.

"AAHAHA! Yehehehes!"

"How sensitive?" Steve kept asking, changing the pattern and going with up and down motion, nodding his head instead of shaking it.

"I- ahahaha - hihihihi!"

"Let's find out, huh?"

When Steve pressed his lips down and circled Tony's outie, giving the small nub a gentle suck, Tony erupted into shrieking laughter, twisting and jumping and went completely wild, banging fists on the covers.

"I CAHANAHAN'T! STOP, STEHEHEVE! HIHIHI!"

Steve didn't listen, trying to hold down with his body weight the wriggling and laughing mess Tony became while lapping on the ticklish outie, fulfilling Tony's wish from earlier and ignoring the current plea. After all, what Tony had just said was a reflex, right?

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #SUPERHUSBANDS #tony stark is ticklish #ticklish!tony #belly tickling #belly button tickling #tickle fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #honestly this was the prompt that gave me most trouble so far #because it was a request for tickle fluff #and well #i guess we all have different definitions of that #this is my definition #hope it is fine #8th stony anniversary

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arysafics · 5 years

Text

Imperfectly Perfect

Summary: Bellamy knows Clarke is way out of his league, which is why he refuses to tell her how he feels about her. Unfortunately, Murphy knows, and decides to use the information against him.

Prompts filled:

1. best friend-roommates to lovers Bellarke fic involving body insecurity but with Bellamy as the insecure one (I feel like it’s usually Clarke) and Clarke as the one who uplifts him.

2. Bellamy finally gets Clarke to be with him after years of mutual pining but gets crazy jealous because he’s still insecure and thinks she’s too good for him – anon

3. his friends know Bellamy is crushing on Clarke hard but he tells them he would literally rather do anything than tell her, so they (Murphy) keep coming up with ridiculous dares for him to complete instead of telling her. like I'm imagining they start with something easy like painting his nails pink (he could totally rock that) and then it gets more and more elaborate to the point where on Tuesdays he's only allowed to eat foods that start with b or something – anon

Rated T, ~6.6k words

Of all the mistakes Bellamy has made in his life, telling Murphy about his crush on Clarke is probably the most stupid. He could have told anyone else, and he might have been teased, comforted, or pressured to do something about it. But at least with anyone else his secret would be safe. That’s not a given with Murphy.

“Have you told her yet?” Murphy asks as Bellamy lets him into his apartment. It’s Murphy’s new way of greeting Bellamy. The answer is always the same.

“No, and would you shut up?” Bellamy hisses. “She’s home.”

“You know you’re way too old to live with a roommate, right?” Murphy says. He shoves a six pack into Bellamy’s arms, then waltzes past him and into the living room.

“There’s no age limit on having a roommate,” Bellamy scoffs, pulling out a beer as he follows Murphy. He tosses the beer to his friend, now lounging on the couch, and grabs one for himself.

“I don’t know, man,” Murphy says. Bellamy flops down beside him. “By thirty-six I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to have a wife and four kids.”

“So you’ve got, what? Two years to achieve that?”

“At least I live alone.”

“I like having a roommate.” Just as he pronounces this, said roommate walks into the room, all dressed up in a low-cut top that immediately sends Bellamy’s brain into inappropriate territory.

“Me too,” Clarke grins. She walks over behind the couch, and both Bellamy and Murphy strain their necks to look around at her. “What are you guys getting up to tonight?” she asks.

“Watching basketball and drinking,” Bellamy tells her. “You want one?” he nods to the beer on the coffee table in front of them.

“Just let me have a sip of yours, I’m already late.” Bellamy passes her the bottle and she takes a long swig before handing it back. “Okay, I better go. I don’t know what time I’ll be back. I might see you tonight or maybe just in the morning.”

“Okay, have fun.”

“You too.” She heads for the door, giving the boys a last wave before she’s out of sight.

“She likes you too,” Murphy says.

Bellamy snorts. “No, she doesn’t.”

“I’m telling you she does.”

“Would you shut up?” Bellamy scowls. “You’re just making me feel worse about it.”

“What? Why?”

“Because she’s obviously way out of my league,” Bellamy says.

“You’re joking, right?” Murphy says. “Since when have you ever thought anyone was out of your league? You used to have girls begging you to take them home with you.”

“Yeah, fucking—ten years ago,” Bellamy rolls his eyes. “I’m not exactly twenty-six anymore, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You think you’re too old for her? That it?”

Bellamy shrugs. That’s not really it, but he doesn’t feel like he can explain to Murphy what the problem really is. Murphy doesn’t seem to notice Bellamy’s non-committal response.

“She’s twenty-nine, Bellamy, it’s not like she’s nineteen for fucks sake,” Murphy says, exasperated. “Seven years is not a big age gap.”

“It’s not that,” Bellamy huffs.

“Well, what is it then? Because right now you’re just sounding like an idiotic coward.”

Bellamy resists the urge to tell Murphy how rich that is, coming from the guy who moved all of his things out of his last girlfriend’s apartment, then blocked her on all social media, rather than break up with her.

“Come on, Murphy,” Bellamy says. “She’s a fucking doctor who comes from money. She’s gorgeous, and smart, and generous, and selfless. And I’m—what? A cop who barely grew up without a cent to his name, who only became a cop because he lied to a girl once and told her he was one, and she thought it was hot and he didn’t have any better plans?”

“Clarke really isn’t all that,” Murphy says. “You think way too highly of her. The only thing she’s got going for her is that she’s hot.”

“Give it a rest, Murphy,” Bellamy says.

What he doesn’t say is that yeah, Clarke is hot. Which is at least fifty per cent of the reason why she’s out of his league. But Bellamy doesn’t know how to explain that to Murphy. He wouldn’t get it. How could he? Murphy looks exactly the same as he did when he was twenty. Better, even, maybe. But Bellamy—not so much. Ten years ago, he would have asked Clarke out in a heartbeat, with no worry that she’d turn him down. Back then, he had a ridiculous amount of self-confidence that his looks would compensate for his dickish behaviour. The self-confidence was hard won, even then, after years of racist remarks telling him he was ugly. His lean, muscular body was all he had. Now he doesn’t even have that.

He’s probably only slightly less of a dick now, and without the looks or the self-confidence to cover it up. He doesn’t exactly look like he did when he was in his twenties. He doesn’t work out so much now, mostly because he doesn’t get that much free time, and he no longer wants to spend hours at the gym every week, when he could spend that time relaxing. He still enjoys playing sport and being outdoors, but he hasn’t seen his abs since he before he turned thirty. It’s not that he thinks he’s ugly, exactly, but he doesn’t feel proud of his body anymore. Doesn’t like looking in the mirror, or at old pictures, reminding him of what he used to look like.

He barely dates anymore, and it’s only half because he’s in love with his roommate. He’d been struck by a fear of dating apps and sites when he showed up for a date two years ago and seen the look of disappointment on the girl’s face. He didn’t look like his picture. She was polite enough, and quick to cover up her surprise, but it was there, and it was crushing and humiliating. She never responded when he asked if she wanted a second date.

He’s dated maybe three different women since then, all leading nowhere, and all the while pining after Clarke. Just add pathetic to the list of reasons he isn’t good enough for her.

“Whatever,” Murphy says. “I’m getting sick of listening to you pine over her.”

“You’re the one always bringing it up.”

“Because I can see you pining over her with your stupid lovestruck eyes. It’s disgusting.”

“I don’t have lovestruck eyes.”

“You do.”

Bellamy grimaces. “You don’t think she knows, do you?”

“She’s just as fucking stupid as you are. Which is why you have to tell her.”

“I would literally rather do anything other than that.”

Murphy pauses, his beer held to his lips. He raises an eyebrow. “Anything, huh?”

“Anything.”

“Fine,” Murphy says. He takes a swig from his bottle. “How about you… paint your fingernails bright pink instead?”

Bellamy frowns. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because it’s either that or tell Clarke how you feel.”

“You can’t force me to do either of those things.”

“If you don’t tell her, I will. Or you can paint your fingernails. Your choice.”

Bellamy stares at him. “Are you—blackmailing me?”

“Well, when you put it like that—yes.”

Bellamy considers. He knows very well Murphy is likely to make good on his threats. And having bright pink nails isn’t the worst thing.

“I’ll go and see if Clarke has any pink nail polish,” he says.

By the time Clarke gets home, Murphy is gone, and Bellamy is in bed, his nails sloppily painted pink. He’d made Murphy do it for him, since it was his idea.

He’s scrolling on his phone, and his bedroom door opens. Clarke’s silhouette is outlined by the light coming from down the hall. Instantly he thinks something must be wrong, or else why would she be here? Usually she’ll tell him about her dates if he’s still up when she gets home, but she doesn’t normally come and see him if he’s already in bed.

Bellamy flicks on the lamp beside his bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Clarke says. “Are you awake?”

Bellamy relaxes. “Obviously. How was your date?”

“Turns out it wasn’t a date. She’s painfully straight.” Clarke pads over to the bed, and Bellamy’s heart pounds as she lifts the covers slightly and gets in beside him. She’s already changed out of her date clothes, in her pyjamas now. She rests her head on the pillow, facing him, and Bellamy turns onto his side so they’re face to face. He tries not to think too hard about the fact that she’s in his bed, but his throat is dry and his brain has turned to mush. This is so not something they usually do.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice coming out all husky.

“It was still fun,” Clarke shrugs. “Which I guess was the point of the date anyway.”

“But she’s not the love of your life,” Bellamy jokes. Clarke doesn’t laugh. She bites her lip.

“No,” she agrees. She glances down, reaching for his hand. His heart spasms.

She frowns in confusion. “Why are your fingernails pink?” she asks.

“Oh,” Bellamy says, blushing. He really thought she just wanted to hold his hand for a moment. Idiotic. “Murphy and I got bored. I hope you don’t mind.”

Clarke smiles, amused. “Did he do this?” she asks, holding his hand up in front of her face, studying his nails.

“Yeah.”

“He sucks, you should have let me do them.”

“Next time,” Bellamy promises.

He watches her as she caresses his hand, twice the size of hers. God, she’s so little, and he’s so big. They’d look ridiculous together as a couple. Surely Murphy can see that. Bellamy can see it, and he knows Clarke can see it too. If the thought even crossed her mind, which it probably hasn’t.

Bellamy thinks about it all the time. It’s one of the many things he tells himself, every time he starts entertaining the thought of him and Clarke together. How people would look at them and wonder why the hell someone like her is with someone like him. How embarrassed Clarke would be to be seen with him at one of her mom’s fancy parties. How she’d have to be on top if they had sex, because otherwise he’d crush her.

Suddenly he’s all too aware of how much space he takes up, how he’s shirtless under the covers, how he doesn’t want Clarke to see his flabby stomach. He thinks he can pass for bulky when he has a shirt on, especially considering the size of his arms and shoulders. Without the shirt, there’s no denying it. He’s just fat.

“You should probably get to bed,” Bellamy says hoarsely.

“Are you kicking me out?” Clarke pouts.

“Well, it’s not like there’s a lot of room in this bed,” Bellamy points out.

“There’s plenty,” Clarke says. “And besides, I’m only little, I don’t need much room.” As if to prove her point, she scoots closer to him, and he can feel her breasts press up against his bare chest. He stiffens, moving away slightly. She notices. “Sorry,” she says, blushing. “I didn’t mean to…” she trails off. To touch him? To get so close to him? Either way, why would she want to?

“It’s fine,” Bellamy says quickly. He doesn’t want her to think she’s offended him, even if it does hurt a little. She thinks his body is as gross as he does. It’s fine.

“I’ll go,” Clarke says, a small waver in her voice. She slips out of bed, looking like she can’t wait to get away from him. “Goodnight,” she says. She doesn’t even wait for him to answer before she leaves, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Bellamy wakes up for work on Monday morning with a text from Murphy.

Remember when you looked like this?

The next message is a photo of Bellamy from when he was about twenty. Bellamy grimaces at the photo, and not because he’s remembering how much fitter he used to be. See, the thing is, when Bellamy was in his early twenties, he went through this phase of thinking his hair looked really good all gelled back. He was wrong. He still cringes at the memory of it.

He sends Murphy a begrudging response.

What of it?

Either tell Clarke how you feel or wear your hair like this to work today.

I hate you

Bellamy doesn’t even own any hair gel anymore, so he has to leave for work early and grab some on the way. He sits in the car in the parking lot at work, flips down the sun visor and looks up into the mirror as he smears the gel into his hair, then combs it through. It looks revolting. At least Clarke isn’t around to see him looking like this. Like she needs another reason to find him unattractive.

Bellamy grimaces at his reflection before snapping the visor back up and getting out of the car. He walks into the station, already feeling like everyone is staring at him and there’s not even anyone else in the parking lot.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Miller asks him as soon as he walks into the precinct.

“Blame Murphy.” Bellamy heads for his desk and throws his bag down, before slumping in his chair.

“He jizz in your hair or something?”

“He’s blackmailing me.”

“He must have something really good on you to get you to make your hair look like that.”

“Yeah.”

“And he couldn’t blackmail you into doing anything better than gelling your hair?”

“Don’t give him any ideas.”

“I already have a list of ideas,” says Murphy from somewhere behind Bellamy, his voice startling him. Bellamy swivels around. “Have you told her yet?” Murphy asks.

“Oh, this is about Clarke,” Miller realises.

“You told Miller?” Bellamy scowls at Murphy.

Murphy shrugs. “You never said I couldn’t.”

“You are seriously the worst friend of all time.”

“For the record,” Miller says. “You should probably just tell her you like her. There’s a good chance she likes you too.”

“There is no fucking way.”

The gel is still holding his hair well by the time Bellamy gets home, but by then he’s kind of forgotten about it. No one had even noticed his new hairstyle other than Miller and Murphy, much to Murphy’s annoyance.

Clarke, however, does notice.

He gets home from work, kicks his shoes off by the door (a habit which Clarke is constantly hassling him about), then collapses onto the couch. Clarke gets home a few minutes later, and stops dead when she sees him. She raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Bellamy says. Then he remembers the hair. “Oh.” He runs a hand over his slicked back hair.

“Trying something new?” Clarke asks delicately. She walks over and joins him on the couch. Of course, Bellamy takes up a large portion of it, large and sprawled out as he is, but Clarke tucks herself into the corner, managing not to touch him at all. Which is fine. He doesn’t want her to touch him if she’s that repulsed by him.

Bellamy snorts. “Murphy dared me to do it. I used to wear my hair like this in my early twenties. Wish someone had punched me in the face for it.”

Clarke laughs, light and tinkly. Bellamy grins. He loves her laugh, and her smile, and that little beauty mark above her lip. He wants to press his lips against it, kiss her smile, swallow her laugh. He pushes down the desire. It’s a ridiculous fantasy.

Clarke reaches out to touch his hair, and he eyes her warily.

“It’s very hard,” she says as she pulls her hand away.

“That would be the gel.”

“I admit, it’s not a great look. I like you much better with your curls. You can’t run your fingers through gelled hair.”

Bellamy flushes, trying not to imagine Clarke running her fingers through his hair. He rubs his hand over his head again. “It’s getting too long,” he says, pretending like her last comment hadn’t affected him in the slightest. “I should get it cut.”

“I could do it,” Clarke says. She sounds almost eager. “I’ll wash your hair and cut it.”

God. Bellamy hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels. Why does the thought of her washing his hair feel so intimate? Too intimate. He can’t let her do that, he’d never recover.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says.

“Come on,” Clarke says with a smirk. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Bellamy chews his lip. “No.” He swears he sees her flinch. Her smile drops. “Thanks, though,” he says.

“Okay,” Clarke shrugs. “Suit yourself.” She pulls her phone out, holds it up, and snaps a picture of him.

“Hey!”

Clarke grins. “Sorry. I never want to forget this.”

“Have you told her yet?”

“Fuck off, Murphy.”

The bartender hands Bellamy his drink, and Bellamy takes a long sip. He’s so not drunk enough to deal with Murphy right now. The bartender places a second drink on the bar; a cocktail Bellamy had ordered for Clarke, then turns to Murphy. He’s been relatively free of Murphy’s “dares” since the hair incident four days ago, and he’s starting to hope Murphy has forgotten about the whole thing.

“I’ll have a whiskey and coke,” Murphy says. “But can you also put some pineapple juice in there? And some Midori.”

“What the fuck? That sounds awful,” Bellamy grimaces. The bartender also doesn’t look impressed with the order, but he starts making it anyway.

“It’s not for me, it’s for you,” Murphy smirks. “Your new drink order for tonight. Or else, well, you know what happens.”

Ah. Bellamy should have known it was too good to be true.

“You can’t seriously expect me to drink that.”

Murphy shrugs. He takes the beer from Bellamy’s hand. “I’ll have this. If you don’t want your drink, I guess I’ll just have to tell Clarke—”

“Fine,” Bellamy cuts him off. “But just know that I hate you.”

The bartender puts Bellamy’s new drink in front of him.

“I’m not paying for it, by the way,” Murphy says, and then he stalks off to the booth where the rest of their friends are sitting. Bellamy sighs, picking up his drink and Clarke’s, and following Murphy over to the table.

Murphy has taken the spot next to Raven where Bellamy was sitting before, leaving Bellamy to slide in next to Clarke. He places her drink in front of her, and tries to leave as much room between him and Clarke that he can. Which isn’t much, otherwise he’ll be hanging off the seat. Monty and Jasper round out the table of six.

Bellamy can feel Murphy watching him, so he takes a sip of his drink. He almost chokes on it, but manages to swallow. It’s awful. Safe to say he won’t be getting drunk tonight as planned. Clarke, on the other hand sucks on her straw eagerly, downing almost half her cocktail with the first sip.

Bellamy eyes her with amusement. “Thirsty?”

Clarke shrugs. “I just feel like getting drunk and forgetting about my problems for a while.”

“Your problems?” he repeats, surprised. She hasn’t told him about any problems. Not that they tell each other everything, but she normally doesn’t mind venting to him now and again when she’s frustrated with work or her mom or whatever. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Clarke screws up her mouth. “It’s just—boy problems.”

“Oh. You can still talk to me about that. Unless you prefer to talk about it with your girlfriends or whatever.”

Clarke considers him. “You really want to know?”

Bellamy nods. “’Course.” He can totally listen to her mope over somebody else. He’s mature. He can deal with the girl he’s in love with being in love with someone who’s not him.

“It’s just—I like somebody. Like, a lot. A lot, a lot. For a long time now. And sometimes, lately, I think he might like me too. But every time I try to kind of—make a move, he shuts me down.”

“That sucks.” He’s not jealous. He’s totally not jealous.

“No kidding. Any advice?”

“Have you tried just telling him you like him?”

“No,” Clarke scoffs. “I’d literally rather die.” Bellamy relates to that.

“Sorry,” Bellamy says apologetically. “I guess I’m shitty at relationship advice.”

“It’s okay,” Clarke smiles. “I’m used to suffering in silence by now. What about you? Any romantic prospects on the horizon?”

“Hardly,” Bellamy snorts. “As if anyone would want me.”

“Yeah, right,” Clarke laughs, like she thinks he’s joking. Or maybe she just doesn’t know what to say, because she knows he’s right but doesn’t want to be mean. She downs the rest of her cocktail. “I’m getting another drink, you want something?”

Bellamy glances at his still full drink, then across the table to Murphy, who is deep in conversation with Raven. Still, he can’t take the chance that Murphy won’t notice he’s not drinking his assigned drink and decide to blurt out his feeling for Clarke.

“I’m good.” He gets up so Clarke can get out, then sits back down, allowing himself to relax, and take up as much space as he needs while she’s at the bar. He watches her though. Watches as some tall, thin, stupidly handsome guy comes up to her, and starts obviously flirting with her.

Clarke smiles. Ducks her head as she laughs at whatever this dude is saying to her. Bellamy’s fist clenches under the table, and his jaw locks. Okay, fine, he’s jealous. How could he not be? Clarke likes fit guys, obviously, like the idiot talking to her now. Like how Bellamy used to look, in his glory days. Not how he looks now, with his squishy belly, and the beard he grew to help hide his slight double chin.

The guy leaves Clarke alone, and Bellamy watches as Clarke downs two shots of what looks like vodka, then picks up her new cocktail and brings it back to the table. This guy she likes must be really be doing a number on her. Bellamy hates him.

He gets up again and Clarke slides back into the booth next to Monty. It doesn’t take long for the alcohol to hit her. She finishes her cocktail, then reaches for Bellamy’s drink. He stops listening to Raven’s bragging and turns to Clarke, meaning to stop her from drinking the horrible concoction, but before he can get a word out, she’s downing the whole thing, as if she doesn’t even notice how bad it tastes.

Bellamy eyes her warily, and Clarke grins at him. “You weren’t going to drink that, right?” she asks, as if that’s what his concern is.

“No.” He shakes his head. She gets up, and before Bellamy can move out of her way, she’s climbing over him, her body pressing against his as she squeezes through. Bellamy sucks in his stomach, barely breathing. She heads for the bar again, not bothering to offer him a drink this time. She comes back with another two cocktails.

She gets sloppy drunk after that, and she seems to have lost all sense of personal space. The gap Bellamy had tried to leave between them is gone, and Clarke is leaning on him like she can’t hold herself up. It’s nice, he can’t deny it’s nice. Something he could get used to. But it means nothing.

She babbles a lot when she’s drunk. No one else can get more than a sentence out before Clarke is interrupting to ask a question or go off on a tangent. Raven and Murphy are getting increasingly frustrated with her, but Bellamy just thinks it’s cute. He smirks at Raven’s loud huff when Clarke interrupts her again.

“Clarke, can you shut up for five seconds?” Raven snaps. “I’m in the middle of talking.”

Clarke pokes her tongue out. Mature. “Fine. I’ll just talk to Bellamy. Bellamy wants to talk to me, don’t you, Bell?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Suck up,” Murphy coughs. Bellamy ignores him. He focuses on Clarke, while Raven resumes her story, her voice fading into background noise.

“Why does my head feel so funny?” Clarke whispers.

“I think you’re a little drunk,” Bellamy tells her. She gazes up at him, her eyes trailing across his face.

“You’re so pretty,” she tells him. Bellamy raises an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty?”

“Your eyes. And your freckles.” She reaches out and starts tracing over them. “Like little stars.”

“You really are drunk.”

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“I told you,” Bellamy shrugs. “No one wants me.”

“You’re so stupid,” Clarke says.

“Thanks.”

“I want to go home.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

The other four barely seem to notice as Bellamy helps Clarke to her feet, and the two of them throw out a half-hearted goodbye before heading out to Bellamy’s car. He only got to have one sip of beer and one sip of the god-awful drink, so he’s good to drive.

She’s silent on the drive home, like maybe the buzz from the alcohol is wearing off, and now she’s just tired.

“You okay?” he asks, watching her out the corner of his eye. She shrugs.

“I guess so.”

Bellamy doesn’t push it. He can tell there’s something wrong, but if she doesn’t want to tell him, he can’t make her. She seems dejected as they walk inside, and Clarke heads to her room while Bellamy goes to the bathroom. He intends to go straight to bed after that, but Clarke’s bedroom door is open and the light is on, and he stops in the doorway. She’s in bed, looking at him with her big, sad eyes.

“Everything okay?”

“My bed’s too big and empty. Will you come and hold me?” she croaks out.

Bellamy feels his heart squeeze. He wants to hold her. But he doesn’t want to be some replacement for some other guy. She’s just drunk and lonely. If he were a better friend, he’d be there for her anyway. But whatever she has in her mind won’t be the reality. It won’t make her feel better. It will just be awkward and uncomfortable, the two of them lying there, him probably half smothering her, while she tries to think of a way to tell him she changed her mind without offending him.

“You don’t want that,” Bellamy says.

“Okay,” Clarke says softly. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Clarke.”

Murphy comes barging into the apartment the next morning, his expression all too smug. Clarke is still in bed, probably nursing a hangover, and Bellamy has only just taken his first sip of coffee.

“Do you have a key for this place or something?” Bellamy groans as Murphy strides into the kitchen.

“Hurry up,” Murphy says. “Your appointment is in fifteen minutes.”

“Appointment?”

“Your tattoo appointment.”

“No.”

Murphy’s grin widens. “Yes.”

Bellamy groans. It’s not that he’s opposed to getting a tattoo. He already has a couple. But he just knows that whatever Murphy is going to make him get is going to be either ugly, or embarrassing, or both.

“You’re taking it too far,” Bellamy says.

“Desperate times and all that jazz.”

“I’m not getting a tattoo.”

“You don’t even know what I want you to get.”

“What do you want me to get?”

“A cowboy—”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“I don’t want to know the rest.”

“Fine,” Murphy says. “Where’s Clarke?”

“She’s in bed, don’t wake her up.”

“You don’t believe I’ll really do it.”

“Not really, no.”

Murphy’s smile borders on maniacal. He turns and walks out of the kitchen. Bellamy’s heart skips a beat, and his cavalier attitude is replaced with panic.

“Murphy!” Bellamy calls after him. Fuck. He races after Murphy and tackles him to the ground, Murphy letting out a surprised yelp as he hits the ground.

“Shit, Bellamy!” Murphy gasps. “Let me go.”

“Promise you won’t tell her.”

“No. What are you going to do, hold me here forever?”

“If I have to.”

Murphy struggles, trying to get free, but he’s no match for Bellamy’s strength. Murphy goes limp again, defeated.

“Do you give in?”

“No.”

“What the hell are you guys doing?” Clarke groans, her voice hoarse. Bellamy and Murphy both look up.

“Practicing,” Bellamy blurts out.

“What the fuck are we practicing?” Murphy says.

“Shut up,” Bellamy growls.

“Clarke,” Murphy says. Bellamy has the strong urge to wrap his hands around Murphy’s throat and choke the life out of him. “Bellamy’s in love with you.”

“I’m not,” Bellamy says quickly, but his face is hot, and he can’t look at her.

“He is,” Murphy says. “He’s in love with you and he won’t tell you because he thinks he’s not good enough for you and I’ve been making him do stupid shit like gel his hair in exchange for not telling you. But I know you love him too.”

Bellamy’s eyes snap to Clarke’s. She’s beet red. She looks away as soon as Bellamy’s eyes meet hers.

“Will you let me go now?” Murphy groans. Bellamy snorts. No point holding Murphy down now that the secret it out. He releases Murphy and gets to his feet.

“Get lost, Murphy,” Bellamy says. He’s got to smooth things over with Clarke, and he can’t do it with Murphy skulking around. Murphy doesn’t say another word, just slinks out of the apartment quietly.

Bellamy looks to Clarke. He’s breathing heavy, though it hadn’t really been much of an effort to hold Murphy down.

“Sorry about him,” Bellamy says as soon as Murphy is gone.

Clarke swallows. “Is it true? What he said?”

“That I’m in love with you, you mean?” Bellamy says, a little bitterly.

“That you don’t think you’re good enough for me.”

“Of course I’m not. Why do you think I never said anything before now? I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I know you could never see me like that.”

“How could you think that?” Clarke says, her voice wavering.

“Please, Clarke,” Bellamy snorts. “Look at you. And look at me. It’s obvious. Why would you want to touch me? Don’t I repulse you?” Bellamy snorts.

“Repulse me? Bellamy, I’ve been trying to get you into bed with me for months.”

Bellamy frowns. “Why?”

“Are you kidding? I’m obviously stupidly in love with you.”

Bellamy’s breath catches, and he stares at her, barely comprehending. “You—what?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Bellamy still doesn’t get it. “No, you’re not.”

Clarke huffs in frustration. “I think I know what I feel, Bellamy. Why are you so sure I don’t?”

“Clarke,” Bellamy pleads with her. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. You could have literally anyone you want.”

“But I want you. I think you’re beautiful too.”

Bellamy scoffs. “You’ve never seen me without a shirt.”

“What, you have Lord Voldemort under there or something?”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that’s what it is.”

“Seriously, Bellamy. What is it? You know you’re hot, right? Like, really, really hot.”

“I’m not. Maybe ten years ago I was hot. But now I’m just—”

“What?”

He shrugs. “Fat.”

“Fat?”

Bellamy can’t meet her eye. It’s embarrassing to admit that it matters to him. That he’s insecure about his weight, about his body, his looks. It feels unmanly.

“Bellamy,” Clarke says softly, stepping towards him. “Look at me.” He does, reluctantly. “You’re not fat just because you don’t have a six pack like you did when you were twenty-five. And god, even if you were, do you think that would make me not love you? Do you think I’m that shallow?”

“No, god no,” Bellamy says. “I don’t think you’re shallow. I just—I want you to be with someone you can be proud of. Who won’t make you look bad. If—if we were together, everyone would judge you. They’d wonder why the fuck you’re with me.”

“I am proud of you. I don’t care what anyone else thinks,” Clarke says, her voice even softer now. She stands toe to toe with him, looking up at him with stars in her eyes. Like she thinks he’s worthy of her or something. “And to tell you the truth,” she continues. “I kind of like that you’re not all hard and bony. Who wants to cuddle with someone like that?”

“You want to cuddle me?”

She flushes. “Have I not made that embarrassingly clear?”

“You really love me?” Bellamy whispers, his voice cracking. He’s still in denial.

“I really love you.” She reaches for him, hesitantly, watching him cautiously, like she thinks he’s going to run at any moment. He doesn’t stop her when she puts her hands on his chest. She slowly closes her eyes as she tilts her head up, and presses her lips against his. Bellamy’s eyes snap shut when she makes contact. His heart flutters.

Her lips are so soft it could almost be a dream. But then she fists his hands in his shirt and kisses him harder, and he knows it’s real. He opens his mouth, kissing her back, meeting her tongue with his. His hands grip her waist. Kissing her isn’t like kissing anyone else. It’s overwhelming, and passionate, yet it soothes him at the same time, makes him feel at peace.

She pulls away first, but she keeps her hands on his chest, and she doesn’t try to extricate herself from his arms.

“Do you believe me yet?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” Bellamy whispers. “It’s just—even if you think you love me now, even if you do love me now… once you realise how out of my league you are, it will be over. And I couldn’t bear it if that happened.”

Clarke shakes her head. “Bellamy, I couldn’t stand it if I lost you. It’s why I never told you how I felt before, in case it freaked you out and it ruined our friendship. But I want you too much to let this go. You’re kind of it for me, you know?”

“I don’t know, Clarke,” Bellamy groans. “I want you too, believe me I do. But—I’m scared.”

“Let me take you on a date,” she says. “Please.”

Bellamy hesitates. “Okay,” he agrees.

Clarke organises the date. Bellamy is all nerves the whole day beforehand. They’re just going out for dinner, which they’ve done before, just the two of them. But now it means something.

Clarke knocks on his bedroom door. “Bell?” she calls. “Are you ready to go?”

Bellamy swallows. He’s been ready for hours. His stomach is in knots and his palms are all sweaty. He’s really going on a date with Clarke Griffin. It doesn’t seem real.

“Yeah,” he croaks. He opens the door. Clarke smiles at him. Fuck, she looks so beautiful. He wants to tell her, but the words won’t come out.

“Let’s go,” she says. Bellamy nods, and follows Clarke out of the apartment. “It’s not far, I thought we could walk,” she says.

“Okay,” Bellamy says. He really is stimulating conversation tonight. Not.

It’s a mild night, with a light breeze, the kind of weather that always makes him feel nostalgic about something. Clarke’s hand brushes against his as they walk side by side. Once, then twice. On the third time, she slips her hand into his, without breaking conversation, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And it does feel natural, and right, but it’s also kind of exhilarating, holding her hand in public. She wants to hold his hand. It’s still kind of unbelievable. But he lets himself enjoy it. He feels himself relaxing with the warm pressure of her hand in his, and her idle chatter as she tells him about her day. They’re friends, and they love each other. What’s more beautiful than that?

His contentment is short lived, however. The waiter that serves them is this movie star handsome, six-foot-something guy with a dazzling smile. Even Bellamy finds him attractive, and he considers himself mostly straight. It’s not really the guy’s looks that bothers Bellamy though, at least, that’s not the only thing. It’s the way he smiles at Clarke as he introduces himself as Gabriel, and leads them to their table. It’s how he addresses all his comments to Clarke, and completely ignores Bellamy, and how everything he says, even the way he tells them the specials, seems to be dripping with flirtation.

Clarke doesn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps she likes the attention. She’s not exactly flirting back, but she’s not discouraging it either. Bellamy clenches his jaw, trying to tell himself it’s nothing. He’s got nothing to be jealous about. Clarke is going home with him tonight.

But he can’t help it. Can’t help thinking how much better Clarke would look with Gabriel. How if she wasn’t here on a date with him, she could go home with Gabriel. Somebody actually in her league.

Bellamy’s mood grows dark, his body tense. Gabriel leaves them to peruse the menus, and Bellamy stares at it steadfastly, the words swimming in front of him. How is this date already a disaster? He’s sure his chance with Clarke is shot to hell already.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks him.

“Fine,” Bellamy says through gritted teeth.

“You’re not.”

Bellamy flicks his eyes up. “Just think Gabriel should do his job instead of flirting with patrons who are clearly on a date with someone else.”

“You think he’s flirting with me?”

“Obviously.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Sorry,” Bellamy mutters. “I just—”

“Don’t,” Clarke stops him. “We can leave if you want. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t want to be jealous every time you talk to someone hotter than me. I don’t want you feel like you have to placate me.”

“I know you don’t,” Clarke says. “So what do you want? You want to just forget this ever happened? Go back to being friends?”

“Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Me either,” Bellamy says, breathing a sigh of relief. “I want—”

“Yeah?”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” he says. A smile spreads over Clarke’s face. “And I want to feel like I’m worthy of you. I want to love you like you deserve to be loved.”

“Me too,” Clarke whispers. “I want that too.”

Bellamy gives her a shaky smile. “Okay.”

“Okay. You know I love you, right? Only you. Exactly as you are.”

“I love you too. Exactly as you are.”

Clarke blushes, ducking her head. “That’s, uh, the first time you said that yourself. Out loud.”

“It is?”

Clarke nods. “You know, I don’t think I feel like being out anyway. I don’t like being across the table from you. I want you to kiss me and hold me. Let’s go home.”

Bellamy doesn’t argue this time. They walk back home, hand in hand again, and Bellamy can’t stop smiling. When they arrive home, they order in, and Clarke curls up in his arms on the couch, her head on his chest, and Bellamy doesn’t even worry that she’s thinking he’s too fat. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so content in all his life. He’s still nervous about being naked in front of her. But he knows they can take it slow, and he knows she’ll make him feel safe and wanted. And they can work through his insecurities together.

“I love you,” Bellamy whispers into her hair, before kissing the top of her head. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Ditto,” Clarke says. “I guess you should thank Murphy for helping us get our feelings out in the open.”

“I would literally rather do anything other than that.”

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarke #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #mine

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phoenix-downer · 5 years

Text

Of Which Reason Knows Nothing - Chapter 2

I’m happy to post the second part of the project @chibiranmaruchan and I collaborated on! (You can find the first part here). They drew the art, and I wrote the fic. Working with them was a lot of fun, and I’m really happy with what we’ve created. I will also be posting this story to FFN and AO3 if those are your preferred reading spot(s).

Length: ~3000 words

Summary: Kairi may have lost someone important, but she isn’t alone, and she isn’t without hope. And her mysterious dreams just might have a clue as to Sora’s whereabouts…

Characters: Kairi, Sora, Riku

Additional Info: Implied Kairi/Sora, Riku and Kairi friendship. Post-Kingdom Hearts III. Referenced Character Death. Guilt, Grief/Grieving, Angst, Comfort, Dreams, Friendship.

Enjoy!

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That night, Kairi wore Sora’s hoodie to bed again. Maybe it wasn’t related to her dream at all, but it couldn’t hurt to wear it, just in case there was some sort of connection.

As her eyes flickered shut, she murmured, “Sora, if you’re out there… if you’re trying to reach me… I’m listening.”

Neon lights, flashing colors. An enormous city with skyscrapers pointing towards the moon, trying to reach the heavens but getting pulled back down to earth. Water on the ground in puddles as raindrops splashed into them, disturbing the surface of the water, reflecting the surroundings like a mirror.

She was back. She was back in the same place as before.

White paint on the ground. Lots of lines running across the street. Big billboards running dozens of different ads at the same time. Cars with bright lights, too bright in the dark. The sky a strange shade of purple with ominous black clouds. A big white tower with the numbers 104 in neon red letters.

She glanced at one of the puddles nearby. A face with blue eyes and spiky brown hair stared back. Lifting her hand, she gasped at what she saw. It wasn’t her hand. It was Sora’s, and he was holding a small black pin with a skull-looking emblem on it. He turned it over, and the whole world seemed to go wonky.

“Huh?” He dropped the pin and clutched his head.

“Sora!” she cried, but he couldn’t hear her. His Gummiphone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out.

The message said:

Reach 104. You have 60 minutes. Fail, and face erasure.

—The Reapers.

“Huh?!”

He put his phone back in his pocket. Pain shot up his arm, and he winced and looked at his hand again. Engraved into his palm were black numbers with yellow outlines and a red background.

59:49. 59:48. 59:47. They kept changing, kept… going down. Kept decreasing with each passing second. When he looked at the 104 building again, it said YOU HAVE 7 DAYS in big red letters against a black background.

“Sora!”

But the dream was over, and her eyes flew open. Fingers shaking, she grabbed the Gummiphone on her bedside table. The phone rang and rang and rang as her heart raced because of her dream.

“C’mon, Riku, please, please pick up—”

A few moments later, and he did.

“Kairi?” came his familiar voice, if a little groggy. She glanced at the little time display at the top of the screen. A few minutes after six. The video kicked in, and he yawned as he wiped the sleep out of his eyes.

“Riku, I had another dream about him again,” she said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

Riku perked up immediately at that. “You did? What was it about this time?”

“He was in that city I saw before, only this time there was more.” She closed her eyes and pictured it now. The busy crosswalk, the building with 104 written on it, all the colorful lights and sounds. And the red and black numbers carved into his palm. “There was a countdown, on his hand,” she added, trying to include as many details as possible.

“A countdown?” Riku repeated, his voice rising.

Her eyes flew open. “Yes. I’m not sure why, but—”

“Kairi, I think I know where he is. I think I know where he is,” Riku said, and his voice had more energy and hope in it than it had since… well, since everything had happened.

She tugged at Sora’s hoodie and sat up straighter at that. “W-what? But how?”

“When we were taking our Mark of Mastery exam, he met this guy named Neku. He told me later on that Neku talked to him about a game.”

“And?”

“There was a countdown on Neku’s hand that was a part of that game.”

She thought about this for a moment. “So you think he might be playing the same game as Neku?”

Riku nodded. “Yeah. He said Neku was from this place called Shibuya. If we can find that, we can find him.”

This was it, this was their best lead ever since he’d disappeared. She said goodbye to Riku and threw on some clothes. They had to go see Master Yen Sid about this. Their friends all deserved to know.

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Kairi waited with bated breath as Master Yen Sid closed his eyes and stroked his beard. Stealing a quick glance at Riku, she wondered if he was feeling as wound up as she was right now. His face was a calm mask, but then again, he’d never really worn his heart on his sleeve the way she and Sora did.

“So, you are convinced Sora is somewhere called Shibuya, playing some sort of game,” Master Yen Sid said.

Kairi nodded. “Yes, Master. I know it may seem a little crazy—”

“On the contrary, where else would a heart go after fading from the Realm of Light? Sora did not die a normal death, and there are legends of the same thing happening to others.”

“Really?” Riku asked. “Like who?”

Kairi knew what he was thinking. If it had happened to someone else before, there might be clues as to how to save Sora.

“There was a man who called himself the Master of Masters,” Master Yen Sid said. “He had six Keyblade-wielding apprentices, all named after the Seven Deadly Sins. Ava, Luxu, Invi, Gula, Ira, and Aced, with him as their leader: Superbia. Legend has it that instead of dying, he simply faded away, never to be seen or heard from again.”

Kairi and Riku both waited to hear more, but it soon became clear that was all.

“That’s it? That’s all?” Riku said, echoing her thoughts. “This… Master of Masters guy never returned to the Realm of Light?”

“Well, there is more to the story, but it relates to the events of the Keyblade War, and the two of you would be here for days if I were to recount it all to you. I do not think a history lesson is what you want right now. I shared this with you so you would know that the same fate that befell Sora has befallen someone else before, if the legends are to be believed. That was why Mickey tried to warn him against doing what he did, but as the philosophers say, the heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.”

Master Yen Sid smiled sadly, and Kairi’s heart sank. They had warned Sora not to save her and he still did? Why?

“I know it should be him here with Riku instead of me,” she said. “But if there’s anything I can do to—”

“Incorrect. You are exactly the person who should be here with Riku right now,” Master Yen Sid said. “For if Riku is to dive into realms unknown, who better to keep his heart tethered to the Realm of Light than a Princess of Heart?”

“I can do that?” Kairi said.

“You kept Sora tethered to the Realm of Light, did you not?”

“Well, yes, but… that was different, Master. My powers don’t work on other people the way they work on Sora, and I’m not really sure why, though I do have a few guesses.”

Riku raised an eyebrow but thankfully kept his mouth shut.

“As I said earlier: the heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing,” Master Yen Sid said. “But no matter; in keeping Riku tethered to the Realm of Light as he descends to the depths, you will be helping Sora. Surely you can see how your powers could still be used in this manner.”

“I suppose…”

“Have some faith in yourself, Kairi,” Riku said. “You kept Sora alive, and that let him save the rest of us. I know you’ll be able to pull this off.”

Kairi’s hand fluttered to her necklace. “But what if I can’t? What if I screw up again? I already lost Sora because I was too weak to stop myself from dying. I can’t… I can’t lose you too, Riku!”

Riku put his hand on her shoulder. “You can do this, I know you can. You’re not alone. Together we’ll find Sora and bring him back.” His expression softened. “And you know how I know that?”

“How?”

“Sora believes in us. He believed he’d find you when you were lost. He never gave up on me after all the crap I pulled. So let’s believe in ourselves the way he does.”

Riku was right. Even though Kairi had trouble believing in herself, she couldn’t deny that Sora believed in her. And she believed in him. She believed in Riku, too. And maybe that would be enough.

“Okay, I’m willing to try,” she said, and Master Yen Sid and Riku both nodded.

“We must begin preparations at once,” Master Yen Sid said. “There is no time to waste. The sooner we can reach Sora and bring him back to the Realm of Light, the better.”

Finally. They finally had something to do besides sit around at home and grieve. Taking action felt so much better than doing nothing.

As she and Riku made preparations, she couldn’t help but reflect back on those words she’d told Sora and Riku before. This time, she wasn’t just going to protect Sora. This time, she wasn’t just going to fight. This time, she was going to act. She was going to be the one searching for Sora for once instead of the other way around.

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The night before the mission, Kairi dreamed of Sora again. He was still in that same city, but he wasn’t at the big crosswalk anymore. He was on a side street, fighting some strange-looking creatures Kairi had never seen before. They weren’t Heartless or Nobodies, but they did look like large frogs with elaborate red and black tattoos where their legs should’ve been. And even through the dream, Kairi could sense how the atmosphere surrounding them felt. Her skin crawled and her mood dropped, and she could only imagine how Sora felt fighting them.

When he had destroyed the last of them with his Keyblade, he stumbled against a nearby building, a store with bright red letters. His bangs were stuck to his forehead, and he was breathing hard. How long had he been fighting? How many of those things had he already fought?

But what really drew her attention was when he reached into his pocket and pulled out her lucky charm. Her heart soared at the sight of it. He still had it. He still—

“Why can’t I remember you?” he said, and his voice was anguished.

Her heart sank. Sora didn’t… remember her?

Why not? What had happened to him? Were all his memories gone?

“Sora?” she said. “Sora, I’m here!”

But he couldn’t hear her, and he tucked the charm back into his pocket. “Doesn’t matter. Whoever gave this to me has to be someone important to me.” He looked right at her and made a guts pose, even though he couldn’t see her. “Whoever you are, I’m gonna get home to you, some way, somehow.” He smiled, and it was so good to see his smile again. “I promise.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but the dream was over, and her eyes flew open. She rolled over onto her side, still wrapped in Sora’s hoodie, and huddled beneath her blanket as light poured through the window.

Did Sora really not remember her? Her lower lip trembled at the thought. How could he have forgotten her after everything they’d been through? This was like when she’d forgotten him, and a lump built in her throat when she remembered how awful that had been. The memories slowly slipping away from her. The day she’d forgotten his name. The night she’d forgotten his face. The moment she realized she couldn’t hear his voice anymore. All of that came crashing back to her, and her eyes welled up with tears.

But she and Sora had gotten through that, in the end. And his promise did make her feel a little better. Maybe the memories were all scrambled up, but they weren’t gone for good. They had to still be in his heart somehow. The bond they shared couldn’t be broken that easily.

The important thing was that he was fighting to get back to her. So she would fight to reach him, too. Whatever obstacles they might face, she and Riku would bring him home.

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“You ready?” Kairi asked as she held her hands out to Riku. They were back in Master Yen Sid’s study, and everyone else was here too – King Mickey and Donald and Goofy, Terra and Aqua and Ven, Naminé, of course, and Roxas and Xion and Axel. Even Isa was present. Admittedly, that made her feel a little uncomfortable, but at least he had the good sense not to try to talk to her.

“Ready if you are,” Riku said with a half-grin. How he was so relaxed about this, she’d never know. Her hands were shaking a little, but when he grabbed a hold of them, a wave of calm washed over her.

“For Sora?”

“For Sora.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she pictured Sora searching for her in Shibuya. Pictured Riku, pictured his heart.

There. She could see his Station of Awakening now with its stained glass-like panels showing the people that were most important to him. Friends and family and memories spread throughout his heart. Taking a deep breath, she reached out with her light, tethering her heart to his. His memories started flowing through her mind, and she opened her eyes.

“Okay, I’m connected to you now. Whenever you’re ready.”

He looked around at their friends. “Hey, why the long faces? Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back here with Sora in no time, you’ll see.” He looked at Kairi one more time and smiled. “We won’t give up on him, because he never gave up on us. And he’s helped every person here in this room at one time or another. Now it’s time we return the favor.”

There was a general chorus of agreement and well-wishing at that. Letting go of one of Kairi’s hands, Riku summoned his Keyblade and opened a large portal above them complete with swirling colors and elaborate designs of a bygone age.

“Stay safe, Riku,” she said. “See you soon.”

And with that a great beam of light shot down and pulled him into the portal. Her hand was now empty, and she rested it over her heart.

“Well?” King Mickey said.

She smiled. “He’s okay. I can feel him.”

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“And… I can feel Sora’s heart, too. He may not remember me yet, but I know he will soon.”

“That’s the magic of the paopu fruit!” Goofy said, then slapped his hands over his mouth as Donald tapped his foot.

“Hey, you weren’t supposed to tell everyone that,” Donald scolded, and everyone laughed as Kairi blushed. Great, did all their friends know about the paopu fruit? Well, not surprising. Juicy gossip had a way of spreading like wildfire.

“Hey, if the Wayfinders can bring me and Aqua and Terra back together again, imagine how powerful the real thing will be!” Ven pointed out. “Especially because you and Sora—”

“Less teasing, more practicing with your Keyblade,” Aqua chided, but she was smiling, and Terra grinned and ruffled his hair. Ven pretended to protest, but it was obvious he liked the hair ruffling and playful scolding.

As the others started up conversations with each other, catching up on how everything had been going since everyone had last seen each other, one person in particular sought Kairi out. Naminé, still holding her sketchpad and pencil but wearing a cute new dress, blue and yellow and white.

“Kairi?”

“Yes Naminé? What is it?”

“I know you’re feeling sad about Sora forgetting you, but I doubt those memories are gone for good. Look at Xion,” she said, gesturing at their friend, who smiled and waved at them. “We all thought no one would remember her, and yet here she is now. Sora’s memories of you will come back, I just know they will.”

“Thanks, Naminé. And when Sora finally comes back, he can thank you properly, too.”

Naminé smiled, and Kairi went over to talk to Axel and Roxas and Xion some more, then to King Mickey and Donald and Goofy, then lastly to Terra and Aqua and Ven. She had something very important to ask, something she wanted to do as Riku searched for Sora and she kept him tethered to the Realm of Light.

“Master Aqua, please take me on as your apprentice,” she pleaded as she bowed low. This was her best shot, her best hope at becoming a better Keyblade wielder after the disaster that had happened at the Keyblade Graveyard.

When she straightened, her throat dry, Aqua was beaming down at her. “I thought you’d never ask.”

She clasped her hands and thanked Aqua profusely. Here was an opportunity to get better, to improve, to become a better fighter by the time Sora and Riku returned. She wasn’t the weak girl that had gotten kidnapped and killed anymore. She had the heart and will to be strong, and she was going to prove it.

However long it might take, however hard she would have to work, it didn’t matter. Someday, she would fight by Sora’s side again. Someday, she would be able to spar with Riku and give him a run for his munny. Someday, the three of them would be together again and all would feel right in the worlds.

And someday, she and Sora would finally be able to make good on the promise they’d made. They’d be together every day, and nothing would be able to keep them apart anymore.

For that, she would train and fight for as long as it might take. Now was the time to step forward like she’d said she would. Now was the time to act. The fight was in her hands, and she was ready at long last.

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A/N: A big thank you again to @chibiranmaruchan! And thank you to everyone who read, reblogged, liked, and commented on the story! Hope you enjoyed :)

#kingdom hearts #kairi #sora #riku #sokai #implied sokai #destiny trio #kairi and riku friendship #kh fanfiction #phoenix writes #phoenix-downer #chibiranmaruchan #collaboration #long post #kh3 spoilers #twewy references

56 notes · View notes

daredevile · 5 years

Text

Black Forest [4/6]

Summary: When you meet a stranger in a convenience store and he dumps flour all over you, one thing you know for certain is that you don’t want that event to repeat. What you don’t know, however, is that this won’t be the last you see of him.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol.

A/N: Hey, I’m really sorry for not updating this sooner. I’ve been kinda busy lately and so many new ideas kept coming to me. This one is for @chillingbucky and @revengingbarnes Fic Wars. The prompt was ‘You called me from a karaoke bar and now I’m carrying your drunk ass home. I don’t know how we ended up here.’ Also, the image is not mine. Hope you like it, check out @serpienten for the next chapter :)

Normally, the thought of Friday nights brought a sense of peace to your mind. However, all of that crashed and burned when your boss decided to host an impromptu party for his precious employees.

“I can’t believe I’m giving up my me-time for this.”

Natasha’s snort came from the kitchen, “Please, you’re giving up an hour of mindlessly scrolling through Netflix and somehow convincing me to watch a sappy romcom.”

“Is that a personal attack?” A brief period of expressionless eye contact before the two of you were wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Go have some fun. Your love life’s not exactly thriving.” She nudged your shoulder as your eyebrows raised in question.

“No? So what Finn told me was true? Hot chef huh, bring me some food next time.” Natasha’s teasing glint made your cheeks red, embarrassed, you moved towards the door as quickly as possible.

“Bye Natasha.”

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The blinding glow of the neon lights morphed into a purple haze and other colours you could barely name. Taking another regretful sip of alcohol, you sighed as yet the fifth pathetic cover of ‘I Want It That Way’ ringed through the speakers.

“Didn’t think you’d show up.”

“Do I even have a choice?” Chuckling as he pulled you in for a hug, “How’s it going, Sammy? You gonna steal the mic or what?”

“Hell no, I’m not wasting my talents on this audience.” He motioned his glass to your half-awake co-workers, raising his eyebrow when one nearly fell over. “That reminds me, what happened to the guy you were seein’?

You narrowed your eyes as a smug grin appeared on his face, “Is that why you’re talking to me?” He jumped from the seat as you smacked his shoulder in annoyance. “For your information, that was months ago and I haven’t seen him since then.”

Sam raised his eyebrows in question, nodding slowly as he bit back a smirk, “Huh, I guess that makes sense. Your friend Natasha said you had your eyes on someone else - Man, I forgot his name... I can’t believe it, I laughed when she told me. Oh wait, Bucky was it? A baker?”

“Shut up, Wilson.” You glared at him, “It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s probably too busy to handle a relationship.”

“Don’t give up, sweetheart. Also, is Natasha seeing anyone?”

A group of your co-workers joined your conversation for a while, mindlessly chattering about the stock market prices, groaning when Sam wisely excused himself to head home, a lame thumbs-up directed at you before he disappeared. Slipping away from the conversation, you pulled out your phone, squinting when the bright light shone. Unable to properly decipher any of the words on your screen, you dialled the first number on the screen.

“Hello? Bucky?” You slurred.

“Y/N? What - where are you? And this is - nevermind.”

“Bucky, it’s really late and I’m -” Giggles interrupted your conversation, a fumbling of keys on the other side of the line followed by the roar of an engine, “A little drunk.”

“Just stay where you are, ok?”

After a few measly attempts at Candy Crush, the blaring headlights of a black Jeep hindered your muddled thoughts, and when a familiar blond stepped out - your eyebrows furrowed. Steve?

The car ride slipped into a comfortable silence. Steve’s occasional exhales paired with the periodic buzzing from his phone, probably cake orders you supposed.

“Bucky went home earlier, he hasn’t been sleepin’ well and -” He mumbled after a while, “And, we’ve been gettin’ a lot more order from big corporations and he doesn’t want to mess it up.”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, sighing when he saw you were fast-asleep against the car seat. The rumble of the engines died, Steve gently carried you from the car, grappling to turn the key to the apartment. Stepping into the darkness, he winced when the door creaked open, hoping he hadn’t intruded Bucky’s slumber.

Deciding the couch would be too uncomfortable and rather a miserable place to wake up from after a night of intoxicated escapades, he lowered your sleepy form onto his precisely-made bed, tossing the gray duvet over you before releasing a fatigued groan and crashing on the living room couch.

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The morning couldn’t have arrived any sooner at the Barnes and Rogers residence. The overbearing sweetness of sugar, the sizzle of butter on the stove and the alluring trace of vanilla essence became regular wake-up calls. A fresh batch of Black Forest for today’s order. The rattle of the cake mixer swirled through the apartment, Steve hissed at the familiar noise, squinting his eyes when the curtain unveiled a surge of sunshine. A chuckle escaped from the kitchen, Bucky rolled his eyes at Steve’s dishevelled appearance, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Heard you comin’ in late,” Bucky smirked, nodding at Steve’s closed door, “Who’s the unlucky lady?”

The bedroom door opened - Steve would’ve laughed if it happened to someone else, instead, with a look of surprise and guilt tinged with horror, he met your eyes. The abrupt hit of overwhelming sugariness clouded your senses, only able to recognise fuzzy outlines of colourful desserts and two - very startled -men.

Bucky darted between you and Steve with an unfathomable expression, a flicker of hurt he concealed behind his eyes. Steve raised his hands in defence, moving towards him with caution.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

#floridasavengers #bucky #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky series #black forest #ficwars™2019 #marvel #baker au

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Échappé / Chapter 9 (Branjie) - DenDenMonMon

A/N: So we only have this and another chapter left before the story is over. This was supposed to be some sort of joke. My friend of like ten years, better known as svpermodel, kept going on and on about this “Branjie movie” she wanted to see, I pieced her tweets together and offered to make it a fanfic instead. I knew very little about the pairing and secretly plotted to slowly turned it into a Trixya fic (which I kinda did lol), but never thought I would fall in love with these characters so hard. Needless to say, I had a total of four hundred and twenty seven breakdowns trying to figure out how to wrap things up, even when we had the outline done right from the start. It was so difficult for me to reach the end because… I didn’t want it to end. But enough of my rambling, thank you so, so much for reading and for taking the time to comment. It means the world to me.

As always you can find me as DenDenMonMon on here, twitter and ao3. -Monkey

AO3 Link

Chapter 9

It hardly ever rained in LA, except when something shitty needed to happen, then the sky seemed to be falling down in pieces. It was like a movie. When the climax was approaching, when the guy was dumped, when the girl lost her job, rain was always used to set a depressing mood. The drops carried instrumental music with them, intensifying notes that would lead the viewer to a tragic ending.

Vanessa liked the rain, she liked it a lot. She had come to enjoy it, to long for it.

Although, when it did rain, people didn’t know what to do. The city itself didn’t know how to react. The permanent state of sunshine made Angelinos forget that, every once in a while, the water cycle would make the clouds release countless gallons of rain. Yet, nobody was prepared for that one day of the year when the streets flooded and the canals overflowed, street posts fell down and the power went out. Nobody knew what to do with themselves when the TV signal became erratic, and billboards were ripped from their frames. There were car accidents, because one forgot how to drive when water fell from the sky, and currents dragged all the garbage left on the sidewalks.

Thankfully, it hardly ever rained in LA.

Goosebumps appeared on her arms as Vanessa exited the church. Every piece of uncovered skin complained at the sudden change of temperature. The cold wind, charged with tiny ice molecules, played with the skirt of her black dress. It was probably too short for the occasion, but nobody would have expected her to wear anything else. The heat of her body, as it encountered the cool air, made her cheeks blush; the cold wind bit the delicate skin of her face. She pressed the girl closer to her side as they walked down the stairs. Vanessa did have half a mind to put something with a little more coverage on Elena that morning.

The sound of her high heels, mixing with the droplets hitting the ground, made everything feel even more dramatic for Vanessa. The only thing missing was a thunder slapping across the sky right that instant, to complete the horrific cinematic scene. Thing that didn’t happen.

People rushed by them, waving with one hand as the other held umbrellas, or any piece of available paper, over their heads. Promises were shouted at them, to meet in a few minutes. Neither Vanessa or Elena felt like rushing their steps. Their faces were more or less covered by the big hats and the thin veils, which shielded them from the rain – and the social responsibility to be polite. They strolled across the long parking lot, allowing their bodies to get wet and clothes to stick to their skin. After all, it hardly ever rained around there.

There was a bench at the back of the church. Its color had faded; the hard California sun had slowly but surely eaten the deep brown that covered the contraption, leaving rusty tubes of metal in full display. Even though old and colorless, the bench still served its purpose. They sat on it, water that had gathered on the seat trespassed the fabric of their dresses and reached their legs. Vanessa gladly took the reminder that she could still feel something, even if it was just the rain.

She took a moment to evaluate her life, because it was the only logical thing to do as she sat in the rain at the back of a church.

Vanessa had always thought her life was the hardest. There were some problems placed in front of her that surely nobody else could take. She was a champ for making it through so much heartache and hardship. On some days she felt invincible, she yelled at life, or God, or destiny, to bring on the next challenge. She could take it. On other days, she felt like she deserved a break. Knowing that she could overcome whatever obstacle was placed in front of her, didn’t mean that she wanted to keep on doing so.

Life had been testing her for a bit too long, it was time for her to have some rest. She thought she had found that pocket of time and space where the universe had secluded her from all harm. That was when Brooke had been thrown into the mix. Of course, Vanessa couldn’t possibly break down the most important moments of her life without thinking about Brooke. It didn’t matter if their paths had crossed only a few weeks ago, Vanessa was sure that they had been meant to find each other since the beginning of times. The girl walked into Vanessa’s life and flipped it upside down. She had never lost the ground like that. Regardless of the many emotional hurricanes she had faced, Vanessa had never felt so lost, and confused, and twisted in her entire life. It had been beautiful; nerve wracking, but beautiful. Just when she was ready to open up her heart, to let someone else in and help her carry the weight, everything came crashing down. Bad things just kept coming, one after the other.

With each battle, Vanessa knew she had the option to either let the pain make her bitter or stronger. The line separating those two was sometimes hard to see, with a tendency to change positions with every situation. The line was wiggly, drawn with chalk that threatened to disappear with the rain currents; it was volatile. She prided herself in always choosing to be grateful. At least her life wasn’t as hard as the girl’s who clung to her arm right that instant. The same girl that had to look away as the casket of her mom was placed inside the hearse.

Ben parked right behind it, and Vanessa pulled Elena by the arm to get up. The driver rushed to them with an umbrella, ready to shelter them from the merciless drops, but Vanessa shook her hand in front of herself. It was pointless, they were soaked already. Silently, Ben nodded his head, walked the short distance he had moved from the car and opened the door to help Elena in. Vanessa, jumped in the passenger seat, as it had become her tradition. Ben didn’t stop her, he never did. He settled behind the wheel and turned the car back on.

They followed the procession in silence.

Elena looked out the window with a heavy heart, her eyes were red and puffy from all the crying. Vanessa bit the loose skin of her cuticles; she tried to count the times the windshield wipers passed in front of her eyes. Anything that could distract her from the intense pain hovering above them.

“Thank you,” she whispered after a few minutes. “You really didn’t have to do this. You know I can’t pay you, right?”

With a soft smile, Ben’s stare found hers for the first time. The cars in front of them moved extremely slow. “You don’t have to, dear. I’m happy to do this, to help a friend.”

A huff escaped Vanessa involuntarily. “Don’t even mention that hoe.”

It was easier to stay angry, to be mad at the person who supposedly didn’t help; because anger was a lot easier to deal with than sadness. Vanessa couldn’t admit, not even to herself, that she had left a part of her in that condo, that every step she took away from that metal door felt heavier than the last. If she told herself how much she didn’t want to see a certain person, it prevented her from missing them.

Ben chuckled softly. “I mean you, you silly head. I’m doing this for you, and for her.” He craned his neck to look through the rearview mirror, spotting the girl drawing hearts on the tarnished window. “How is she doing?”

“Not well. It’s not like her mother was very present, but at least she had her mom, you know?”

Even when he didn’t know, even when he had never gone through an experience like that, Ben nodded. “I can’t imagine what she must be feeling; but, hey, at least she’s got you, huh?”

“Damn right!” With a heavy sigh she tried, unsuccessfully, to spot the girl through the side mirror. “She will always have me.”

Vanessa was set to keep her promise, she didn’t leave Elena’s side that day. They held each other as the casket descended, and together threw the first handful of dirt. They didn’t let go as they greeted people into Elena’s home. In a very Hispanic tradition, the whole neighborhood got together to say their final goodbye to a woman they didn’t like, showed up at the place of someone they constantly talked about behind her back. With a forced smile on her face, Elena accepted hugs, directed pots and pans wrapped with aluminum foil to the kitchen and jackets to her bedroom.

Soon, the small apartment was crowded with chatty ladies and running kids. Vanessa talked to some of the older women, discussing recipes she had never tried to cook, not even pretending she knew what they were talking about. She kept an eye on Elena, talking to her dance friends, putting a front, appearing much stronger than what she was truly feeling. Soon, Vanessa had enough and asked the ladies to excuse her so she could check on the girl.

“How you feeling, baby?”

Elena pressed her lips into a thin line, and shrugged her shoulders, not really wanting to give an answer. Silence enveloped them for a minute, until the other girls understood they needed privacy. Between whispers and made up excuses, they got up and left them alone.

Vanessa took one of the now empty seats next to the girl. “Aight. I get it. I’m done talking with those clucking hens over there, too.” She pushed her chin in the direction of the women she had been talking to. Her comment didn’t get the laughter she was expecting in response. Honestly, she didn’t even know what she was expecting, she had no idea how to act in that situation. But she did know Elena, and she knew that she needed to figure out things on her own. Vanessa wanted to be there, but, at the same time, give her enough space to breath. It was complicated, to say the least. “Fine. We don’t have to talk.” Her stare travelled around, her fingers tapped her own knee, unsure of what to do with herself. They both sat in silence, watching people eat, and talk, and laugh, because that was the norm in Hispanic households.

Suddenly, there was a tap on Vanessa’s shoulder. “Vanjie, can I talk to you?” Michelle’s steady voice saved her from the awkward moment.

“Bitch, yes!” Vanessa replied a little too quick, thankful for the distraction. Catching herself, she sat straight, placing a hand on Elena’s shoulder. “Will you be okay for a minute?” The girl simply nodded her head, still in her absentminded state. Vanessa leaned towards her and kissed her temple, before getting up and following Michelle to a different room.

Michelle pushed the many coats out of the way and sat on Elena’s bed. The floral print, in soft pinks and purples, was a big contrast against the all-black outfit that Michelle was wearing. An aura of solemnity surrounded her as she looked across the small space but, truthfully, Vanessa couldn’t think of a time when Michelle looked anything but regal. Vanessa admired her, in every sense of her being. Michelle always knew what to say, what to do; her mind always worked out the perfect plan for whatever situation she encountered. The way she carried herself through life, with such confidence and certainty, was something Vanessa always wished she could do herself.

This time around, Michelle looked, if possible, even more majestic than ever. She straightened her back, her large breasts in clear view thanks to the deep cleavage. “I have good and bad news,” she spoke in the same ceremonious way that she had been acting all day. “Which one do you want first?”

The question startled Vanessa, she didn’t expect having to make any decisions during the conversation. “The bad, always the bad. Then we cover the wound with the good.” She nodded her head approvingly, agreeing with her own words.

For a split second, Michelle casted her eyes down. She tangled her fingers in her lap and sighed. The facade fell for a single beat of silence before she lifted her head and looked straight into Vanessa’s eyes. “We lost the center.” The words came out in a single exhale, in a monotonous whisper that barely registered in Vanessa’s head.

She heard it. Every single syllable of that message entered Vanessa’s ears. It was her brain the one that couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind the words. She could feel them bouncing inside her skull, crashing with every wall and resounding with each hit. The sentence had been simple, one would think four words, strung in such a logical order, would be easy to understand, even for her bilingual brain. Yet, each hop and jump the letters performed through the wiring of her head, made it impossible for Vanessa to let them land in a spot of comprehension.

“Vanjie,” Michelle snapped her fingers in front of her, landing her back into reality, forcing the cogs inside her mind to kick back into gear.

“Wha-what you mean we lost the center? That can’t be true. It ain’t happening. We got the money, we did. Exactly what they asked for. They just needed to finish off the paperwork. That skinny bitch told me the lawyers would take care of everything, she told me that…” Words spilled out without her permission, she didn’t even know what she was saying anymore. She went on and on and on, until she lost track of her own thoughts and simply let her mouth run, hoping Michelle would stop her. She didn’t. Michelle didn’t scream at her to shut up, to get a grip and get it together. Michelle allow her to let it all out. Vanessa only stopped once tears ran down so rapidly that words could no longer catch up. “What-what are gonna do? What can we do to save it?”

“Nothing.” It was clear, there was nothing complicated about Michelle’s statement. They had lost, and there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.

“What happened? Did they at least give you a reason?” Vanessa asked once she recovered a grip of the situation.

Michelle shrugged slightly. “Someone offered them more money.”

“Nah, child, they can’t do that. Can they do that? She said it was ours, the lawyers just needed to finish the paperwork.” She was repeating herself, Vanessa knew it, but maybe if she said it a lot, it would become a reality.

There was no response from Michelle. She sat there, watching Vanessa pace back and forth inside the small room, giving her the time to absorb all the information she had received.

“Can we, like, sue them?” A head shake answered her question. “Is there a way we can get more money? We still have, like, two more weeks, right? We can have another ball.”

Michelle lifted her hand, figuratively stopping Vanessa from continuing. “There’s nothing we can do. Trust me, I have tried every possibility, exhausted every chance from every angle. It’s gone. Actually, that’s where the good news comes from.”

Vanessa’s mouth fell open in surprise. “What you mean good news?! What kind of fucked up news could come out of this mess?”

“Vanjie, I need you to really listen to me. Before you say anything, I need you to pay attention to what I have to say.” There was a moment of silence. The two women simply looked at each other, connecting in a paralinguistic level that was so unequivocally theirs. “I spoke to the girls,” Michelle continued. “We want you to keep the money–”

“Bitch, you wildin’! What makes you–”

“I asked you to listen to me, Vanessa.” The name was what got her. Michelle rarely called her that, unless things turned serious. Vanessa sat down next to Michelle, opening her mind, heart, and ears, for what Michelle had to say. “Elena is going to need someone to look after her, help her with her homework, love her like she deserves. Fight for that girl, take her out of the abusive environment she’s fallen into and give her a home.”

Vanessa shook her head. She had thought about that. Now that Elena’s mom was gone, the most obvious option was the grandmother. It didn’t matter how big of an asshole she was, that cranky old lady was still Elena’s only family. Any judge with half a mind would allow the girl to go with her. Nobody really knew how she was constantly putting Elena down, minimizing her abilities, reducing her to nothing more than the daughter of a drug addict, destined to follow the same footsteps. Nothing the girl did was enough to her eyes. As far as Vanessa knew, the abuela never attacked Elena physically, she wouldn’t have the strength to; but her acid tongue knew how to cut right where it hurt, causing a lot more damage that any tangible wound. Vanessa had thought about getting a lawyer and trying to get custody of the girl. Her chances were slim to none. Not to mention she didn’t have a dime under her name, she wouldn’t be able to support the two of them. Hell, she wouldn’t have been able to afford the lawyer to start with.

“Do you really think the court would let her live with a stripper?” There was a huff coming from Vanessa’s lips, highlighting the absurdity of it all. “Who, on top of that, lives in a shoe box apartment with two other hoes?”

“No.” Michelle was not playing around, she was not entertaining Vanessa’s sarcasm. “That’s why you need to do some changes first. Use the money to get a good lawyer,” Michelle suggested, practically reading Vanessa’s mind. “Get out of that small place and find something better. I talked to some people at this complex, they have amazing student discounts.”

“But I’m not a student,” Vanessa reminded her.

“You are going to. There’s no way you will get a job unless you get your act together. That starts with finishing high school. I can help you look for night schools, or maybe online courses.”

All of that sounded like too much work, Vanessa’s mind was already rejecting the idea as a whole. She didn’t want to get her act together, she was doing perfectly fine as she was. Instead of spitting back all the reasons why she didn’t want to follow Michelle’s plan, she allowed herself to really think about it. Among all those excuses, there was one thing, bigger than any pointless pretext, that would make it all worth it. Just then, the only motivation that she needed to be better, walked into the room.

“Can I hide with you guys for a minute?”

Michelle smiled widely, patting the space between her and Vanessa. “Of course, kiddo. Come chat with us.”

Elena obeyed. She sat down on the bed and rested her head on Vanessa’s shoulder. Vanessa knew there was absolutely nothing she needed to think about. The decision had made itself right then and there. If it meant having that beautiful angel permanently by her side, she was going to change, she was going to be better. She was going to do it for Elena.

And she did.

The following two weeks came and went in the blink of an eye. Vanessa contacted a lawyer that Michelle recommended and, just like she had suggested, Vanessa found a much bigger apartment in a nicer area. The next step was finding a job that the family judge would find decent. She started waiting tables at a Mexican restaurant that paid shit, but had good tips. Her personality helped her a great deal in that area. She knew when to smile, when to flirt, and when to make the customer believe the side of tortillas was on her. Stripping was left behind, and she was surprisingly okay with that. It gave her a certain sense of peace to think that the last time she did it had been for Brooke.

During the whole process of rearranging her life, Brooke had always been a latent thought. Not exactly there, but never leaving her mind completely. Brooke had been right, Vanessa was meant to do so much better, to achieve greater things. Vanessa didn’t know why she had been so closed to the idea, why she had felt attacked instead of empowered. Her stubbornness, mixed with her unwavering pride, was a dangerous combination that forced her to push such an amazing person away.

She had tried, Vanessa had messaged Brooke. One simple text was sent with a waving hand emoji. In her mind, Vanessa planned a whole conversation as soon as Brooke texted back. She never did; and double texting was never part of Vanessa’s brand. That was when she put Brooke on the back burner and concentrated on Elena, and Elena alone, becoming almost oblivious to the passing of time.

Before she knew it, she was standing behind a yellow ribbon, waiting next to the most important people in her life, for their dreams to be shattered. The hot California sun shone above their heads, Vanessa placed a hand to shield her eyes from the brightness as she tried to look up. The large wrecking ball hung from the tall crane. It looked… powerful, she decided after a moment. It looked heavy, and extremely capable of destruction as it swung dangerously close to her beloved building. Workers walked around the area, shouting instructions to each other, and writing things down on clipboards. Vanessa watched them, with their big boots and yellow helmets, as they pronounce the time of death of the community center.

Trixie, stood next to her, chewing a piece of gum rather loudly. “Why don’t you say something? A few, like, encouraging words?”

Vanessa looked down at her feet. “There’s really nothing I can say.” Even when her statement had been negative, her eyes travelled among the people she loved the most. “There really are not enough words, in English or Spanish, to explain how devastating this is. It is something that you just… feel. We are all feeling the same thing, I think, and it fucking hurts.” Her voice broke a little; hot tears gathering at the corner of her eye. “I just… I really don’t know what to say.”

“Can I give it a try?”

All eyes were directed to the shadow walking their way. Vanessa turned around and that was when she saw her. The long blonde waves had been chopped, now straight hair framed her face, curling slightly around her chin. She looked different, but it was her. She wore a white button down shirt, a black pencil skirt, and the usual high heels. Same that resounded against the payment, just like they did all those weeks ago, when Vanessa met her for the first time.

Brooke waved at them from the other side of the yellow line. A small smile played on her lips, but she bit her lower lip to prevent it. She was happy to see them all again, she was happy thinking about all the good things that were about to come, but the emotion in the moment represented a complete contrast to her happiness.

“What is your ass doing here?” Vanessa asked defensively.

Brooke had expected nothing else. She sighed deeply before she looked straight into Vanessa’s eyes. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t contact you in the last couple of weeks. I couldn’t trust myself to keep my mouth shut. There was so much work that needed to be done before I could talk to you. There’s something that I need to tell you.” She lifted her head to address everybody that gathered in the park that afternoon. “Two months ago I was stuck in traffic and saw a group of girls dancing. It was like nothing I had seen before. They looked so happy, so genuinely happy just moving to the rhythm, with steps dictated by their hearts. I saw myself in them, the old me, the one that danced freely without a care. I just needed to talk to them. I wanted them to restore my love for dance. So I ran down from the car and approached them… then I met you,” she spoke directly to Vanessa. “You asked me if I was here to kidnap your kids and sell them in the black market.” There was a round of tearful laughter to her words. Brooke chuckled herself and took a risk, she extended her arms and held Vanessa’s hands in hers. “You love this place. You love it so much that you made me fall in love with it in an instant. I know how hard you have fought for it, how hard you worked to keep it from being demolished.”

“Yeah, well, here we are.” Vanessa tried to look away, to fixate her eyes on anything that wasn’t Brooke’s perfectly applied makeup.

“Yes,” Brooke agreed. “Here we are. About to start a new era. This building is going to be brought down just so it can be reborn as something bigger and better.”

Confused faces stared back at her, unable to follow her train of thought. Brooke chuckled once again and, still holding Vanessa’s hands, she directed her words to the crowd in front of her.

“This is your community center, the one you filled with love, and laughter, and music. You will still have the chance to do all of that, only that I have now decided to call it: The Dream Girls Youth Center.”

“You-you bought it?” Vanessa asked shocked.

Brooke simply nodded. “Yes, I did, but it’s not mine. It’s yours, it’s for the community. The only thing is that I have no idea how this works, I’m going to need someone to help me run it.”

In a quick move, Vanessa made her let go of her hands. “Bitch, the fuck you are talking about?”

Exasperated, Yvie slapped Vanessa’s arm. “She’s talking about you, you dumbass. She bought the center, is going to rebuild it, and wants you to run it. Am I right?”

Piece by piece the information was suddenly making sense in Vanessa’s head. The more she understood, the more she freaked out. “Is that true?”

A nod from Brooke answered her question.

“We get to keep the center?”

One more nod.

“And you want me to run it?”

Brooke finally allowed the smile to take over her whole face. “I could never do this without you, Vanessa. I’m going to need you by my side as we bring it back to life.”

Vanessa was physically taken aback by those words, she literally took a step away from Brooke as she digested the new information. They looked into each other’s eyes, feeling how their souls reconnected, making up for all the lost time. In that moment everybody but them disappeared, there was nothing around them but light. Emptiness surrounded them as their hearts synchronized yet again to beat at the same rhythm.

“By your side? Does this mean you are staying?”

Once again, a nod functioned as response. “If you want me to, that is.” Brooke moved as close to her as the yellow ribbon allowed her. She extended her arms, literally, figuratively, and even spiritually, baring herself to Vanessa. “What do you say?”

It took maybe a second for Vanessa’s brain to connect with her mouth, but it felt like an eternity before she could pronounce the words dying to leave her lips.

“Yes, bitch! Yes! A million times yes!”

She jumped straight into Brooke’s open arms. She wrapped her legs around Brooke’s hips and her arms around her neck. The caution band forgotten, crumpling between their stomachs. It became the least important thing once their lips met. They kissed with the passion they had built up, not only since the last time they saw each other, but with a yearning that came from a lifetime of being apart. They kissed slowly and deeply, letting go of all restraints and inhibitions. They kissed with full abandon, as two people in love that had finally found the person that complemented them.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #michelle visage #trixie mattel #yvie oddly #lesbian au #dance au #echappe #dendenmonmon #submission #bendelacreme

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