#which is good for her honestly. since i think (wishfully but i think) she might have some heavier stuff coming up in special 2 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vaindumbass · 3 years

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The ministry is good for one (1) thing... getting Tonks a date

‘Why-’ Tonks says to the head that is currently sticking out of her fireplace, ‘Why did you ask me for this job.’

Charlie doesn’t even hesitate before answering. ‘Because you speak French fluently, and because you love me and therefore couldn’t say no.’

Mentally, Tonks curses out the Black family and their fucked up traditions. Why French, of all things? Then she corrects herself and blames her mother instead, for keeping this particular tradition. Couldn’t she have gone hunting when she was ten, instead? Bella always thought that was great fun.

Out loud, she replies. ‘I could’ve said no. If I wanted to.’

‘So you want to do this? Good to hear! You can always thank me later, a gift basket would be nice-’

Tonks scoffs at Charlie’s way too wide grin, a laugh threatening to crack out on her face too. ‘You know what, Charlie?’

‘What?’ he says, smugly, as if he’s won.

‘You weren’t completely wrong. I couldn’t have said no.’

‘I know.’

‘You were wrong about one thing, though.’

The fire crackles as Charlie cocks his head. ‘Well?’

Tonks pulls her face into something sad and melancholic to the best of her ability, and looks dramatically into the distance. ‘I don’t love you.’

Charlie’s gasp is loud enough that Tonks almost fears that he’ll douse the flames, somehow. ‘How dare you! Was all this…. a lie?’ After he has stared morosely into the flames for a while, though, he asks: ‘But seriously, babe, what is it?’

The back of Tonks’ shoulders itches a little now that they aren’t joking anymore, and she feels a bit too closely scrutinized. ‘It’s not that bad, okay? You don’t have to look so worried.’

Charlie still looks worried.

‘It’s just- remember how you asked me so that I could translate what she would say?’

‘Sure.’

‘Well, since she’s here partially to improve her English, she told me that I wasn’t really needed.’

‘Okay.’ Charlie says, ‘And?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You wouldn’t be bothered this much by that. I know you, can’t fool me.’

‘Okay so I may have-’

‘May have or you did?’

Tonks ignores him, words spilling out of her. ‘I may have spilled my coffee on her. And she’s so fucking pretty, Charlie, and confident, which I’m apparently attracted to?’

‘There we go,’ He mutters under his breath. Tonks isn’t done.

‘And she doesn’t sugarcoat stuff, you know? So logically I know that she means it when she says that it’s okay, and that she doesn’t mind me ruining her clothes, but what if she secretly hates me now?’

‘Mhm.’

‘She was perfectly kind, though, and have I mentioned how good-looking she is? Name is Fleur, by the way, and sure looks aren’t everything, I change mine on the daily, but the way she looks when she smiles… Only, there’s no excuse for me to stay around her, anymore, and now I’ll never see her again, and she’ll only remember me as that horrible person who ruined her day.’

Charlie’s laugh rings around the room, warm and comfortable, and some ash gets on the carpet when he finally decides to just step out of the fireplace. ‘I’m going to have to stop you there, babe. You’re not just here to speak the language of love-’ After these words, there’s a horrible eyebrow wiggle, and Tonks makes and even weirder face back, just because she can. ‘- but also to show her around!’

‘I don’t even work here anymore! It really is weird that you couldn’t find anyone else who speaks French. I mean- Sirius does?’

‘Yes,’ Charlie responds, while walking around in her house in that comfortable way of his, easily settling down on her couch, ‘because I know Sirius so much better than I know you.’

Tonks lifts up his legs so that there is some space for her to sit, and then keeps one hand curled around his ankle, the other gesturing wildly, almost hitting the lamp that stands near. ‘I don’t know! You both like animals, right?’

‘You know very well that Sirius has adopted a hippogriff. Now, if it’d been a dragon-’

‘Fair enough,’ Tonks says, because while she loves Charlie’s ranting there’s still one topic she’d like clarity on, ‘But still, aren’t there people who speak French and, like, actually work at the ministry?’

Charlie purses his lips. ‘Maybe. But while I am very aro ace I still have eyes and she’s indeed very pretty, and you are very single, so-’

He can’t even finish the sentence before Tonks has thrown a pillow at him. He throws one back, of course, and soon enough they’re two adults in a full-on pillow war, laughing up and until Tonks accidentally punches Charlie in the face.

She gets him some ice and then they just cuddle on the couch for a bit, legs intertwined, and as Charlie tells her about the proper way to clip a dragon’s toenails, she gets a feeling as if she might just be able to handle the whole Fleur thing.

~~~

Tonks is not able to handle the whole Fleur thing.

They don’t spill their coffee again, they’re trying to be careful now, but she’s already confusing departments, and accidentally pressing all the buttons in the lift, which isn’t really appreciated by anyone.

Fleur just laughs at that. ‘How did you press all of them?’

‘I was-’ Tonks stammers, ‘I was trying to hold on to something so I wouldn’t fall.’

‘Why not hold on to me?’ Fleur asks, a thick French accent coating her words, and Tonks just stares for a while. Is this flirting? Is it a joke that Tonks is simply too dumb to get? Should they respond to this with ‘but then I wouldn’t have fallen for you’ and some finger guns?

Tonks only knows the answer to that last one (it’s ‘no’, in case that wasn’t clear). ‘It’s- erm- I mean-’

Fleur just smiles at them in a way that Tonks wishfully thinks might be flirtatious. Tonks is suddenly very glad blushes don’t really show up on their dark skin.

A voice calls out ‘Department of Magical Games and Sports’ and Tonks and Fleur get out, because this was the next part of the tour.

Fleur, her eyes lingering on the various posters hung on the walls, says, ‘Aren’t people here supposed to be impartial? This must be inefficient.’

‘For sure,’ Tonks says, never one to defend the ministry, ‘it’s all a bit shoddy, as if it’s taped together with duct tape.’ (They very carefully pronounce that last word. Who knows, maybe muggle knowledge will impress Fleur?)

‘Then why do you work for it?’

A laugh curls Tonks lips. ‘I don’t! Me and Moody, that’s my old mentor, have opened a sort of private detective office.’

They aren’t even walking through the corridor anymore. One quidditch poster (The Chudley Cannons) is slightly crinkled where Fleur’s shoulder is leaning on it. She throws a bit of her long blonde hair over her shoulder. ‘Then why are you giving me a tour here?’

With a bit of a crooked grin, Tonks answers: ‘Like I said, a bit shoddy.’

Tonks likes the fact that they’re talking now, likes it very much, and therefore they try to lean on the wall just as casually as Fleur does, but they miscalculate, and the ground suddenly comes at them with an alarming speed.

‘Watch out!’ Fleur says, from somewhere very, very close, a flowery smell suddenly surrounding them. One of Fleur’s arms is around their upper arm, the other one curled around their waist. Fleur is very warm. Coincidentally, so are Tonks’ cheeks.

They get up quickly, trying not to elbow Fleur, avoiding eye contact just a little bit. ‘When you said I could hold on to you, I didn’t think I’d need it this quickly.’

Fleur snorts. ‘I am not all too surprised, honestly.’

‘That’s fair,’ Tonks' heart is still beating wildly.

There’s a bit of a silence, and Tonks wrecks their brain for something to talk about. They don’t want this to be over just yet. Luckily, Fleur speaks up.

‘How is being a metamorphmagus? I am part-Veela, and I know other magical beings are immune for that, but I do not know much more. What do you change most often?’

‘My hair,’ Tonks laughs, raking a hand through it (short and a deep blue today), ‘It’s partly apart from my body, in a way, so it takes a bit more effort to change, but once it’s a different colour it stays that way without any effort.’

Fleur cocks her head. ‘It takes effort to change?’

‘For sure. Not all that much, but if I change too much for too long I get a headache. I would never change my skin tone, but if I did I’d get really grouchy, most probably. Oh! And I sometimes change my nose and such as a party trick.’

‘Sounds fun,’ Fleur says, a smile playing on her lips. Tonks seriously considers changing their nose into the one of that squid in the cartoon Hermione showed her, before realizing that that wouldn’t impress Fleur, but rather the opposite.

‘It is! But I get tired if I do it too much. That’s also why, on days that gender is-’ Tonks makes a vague hand gesture, ‘- I sometimes wear a binder, because while I can make my chest flatter, sometimes I’ll be concentrating on some work and suddenly, bam!’ They mimick an explosion in front of their chest, pushing their hands forward.

Fleur snickers. ‘Poor you.´ That sounds like the end of the conversation, but Tonks has finally had enough time to get their brain to work again, and they’ve come up with a new topic.

‘So, what are you here for?’

‘Did you not get that information?’ (Tonks had never said it was a good topic)

‘No, I did, but I thought you might be able to explain it better?’

‘Oh.’ Fleur says, ‘well, I am looking into the practical applications of magic, but specifically on magical creatures. Dragons, for example, can be lured to sleep with a sleeping charm, but can resist most hexes without any effort.

‘Giants, who can also resist hexes, can easily resist a sleeping charm, but curses can seriously harm them, and that’s already fascinating, but I’m going to look into what effects other kinds of magic have, outside of wizardry, starting with Veela magic, because I happen to possess that, and that's not even talking about how that magic works. Only female Veela have any sort of non-wixard magical power, but the magic is not stored in the uturus as one might think, because I do not have one, but still have magic. How does the magic know that?’

Fleur had been talking slowly and deliberately ever since Tonks had met her, as if she was weighing the words, remembering the pronunciation, but now she talks faster, a flush on her cheeks.

‘But I'm getting of topic. I will mostly work with stuff like: why does Veela magic affect unicorns but not dragons? Why does it affect giants but not metamorphmagi? And if it doesn’t affect metamorphmagi, then why do you still get so flustered?’

‘I-’ Tonks says, ‘Erm-’

‘Do not worry,’ Fleur says, smiling ever-so-slightly, ‘I think I know the answer. Would you like to go on a date with me?’

Honestly, Tonks didn’t think a dingy corner lined with quidditch posters could ever be romantic, but Fleur makes it work, with the soft lighting on her cheek, and that fucking gorgeous smile on her lips. ‘Yes,’ they answer (was there ever another option?), ‘I’d like that very much.’

In a sudden rush of courage (what are they, a gryffindor?) they ask: ‘Can I kiss you?’

Fleur nods, and they discover that yes, Fleur’s smile tastes as wonderful as it looks.

#flonks #in my timezone its still femslash february so im saying it counts #even tho this isnt completely FEMslash yall get what i mean #fleur delacour #nymphadora tonks #charlie weasley #to anyone wondering: yes this is what prompted the 'charlie weasley calls his friends 'babe'' post #and im right!!!!#oneshot #mywriting #i took hp lore and RAN with it #fleur is just so smart tho.... that deserves its own place #and moody and tonks ruining a private detectives business is actually something that can be so personal-#also just so yall know charlie doesnt work for the ministry EITHER the reason why he could still get tonks the job is. well.#its explained in the story

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chireikiden · 4 years

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Idk where I expected Detective Satori to go, but this wasn't it. My original theory was Sakuya drugged Patchouli because she was working too hard and needed to rest. Touhou really just be like that, huh?

I have a whole bunch of asks just asking me for thoughts on various things, so I’m going to dump most of them on the one ask with the guts to come off anon. You’re welcome. Rambling essay under the cut.

A vengeful spirit possessing people seemed to be one of the first (half-plausible) theories getting thrown around, and maybe one of the more obvious ones, but I mostly hoped that it wouldn’t be that precisely because it feels like such a cop-out. Frankly, I think I was right on that part. Since it’s apparently going to be a recurring thing, I’ll wishfully assume that it’s going to get elaborated on later, but in a vacuum, “generic spirit looking to possess people for possession’s sake” is hardly a motive of its own while also making anyone else’s motives a non-factor. I guess a spirit feeding itself to people in the form of drinks is a pretty neat concept, if not for this mess surrounding it. We’ll see where it goes.

At least it wasn’t Koishi, though, so my hill remains un-died on.

Honestly, I’m still in some disbelief because this actually doesn’t even feel like ZUN’s writing to me, i.e. what Touhou is like, not just in quality (since that’s subjective anyway) but definitely not in style. I suppose that Meiling being a joke is maybe a bit disappointing but not entirely out of line with what little we’ve seen before, Flandre was a bit of a rollercoaster with some good bits - probably still a net positive, I guess, especially if you milk some more comedy out of her being weirdly eloquent but thinking the world works like a mystery novel with everyone at the mansion looking to backstab each other. Patchouli apparently spent most of her waking time possessed, which explains some of her behavior and could’ve been interesting if they actually lingered on it a bit longer instead of Satori just mentioning it off-hand. Orin provided most of the funny faces, and Satori’s role was nice and smug if very brief.

Remilia and Sakuya, however, got weirdly reduced into uncharacteristically faint-hearted damsels mostly acting shocked by everything. Unfortunately, I’m increasingly thinking that might’ve come down to artistic choice in how their expressions were drawn. I mean, if the script was the same but every “worried shocked face” was drawn as angry or something instead and the composition was different, it’d change their whole image. Sakuya in particular is actually one of my favorite characters personality-wise, but didn’t exactly get to shine here to say the least. “Eternal Meek” indeed. At least her kitchen-related eccentricities were a fun touch. The hate club pin on my lapel obligates me to suggest that ZUN just doesn’t feel inspired writing the SDM cast, but that’s only a small part of the problem at most.

As another bunch of anons have also pointed out and/or wanted explanations for - I just work here, man - there’s a lot of things that, while not strictly plot “holes” in the sense of being unexplainable, were just left hanging without any mention or explanation: the library’s broken lock, the messed up books, Meiling’s behavior since she wasn’t yet possessed at the time, what actually made Flan suspect her (unless it was just totally random), how Satori knew to get involved with this case in the first place, etc. Also, Remi somehow forgot what a detective is in chapter 4.1. despite already talking about Satori earlier and even calling herself an armchair detective in the past.

Whether you consider it a “fair” excuse or not, I think a lot of these issues might end up coming down to the artist’s inexperience with drawing a monthly manga written by someone else, and all the scheduling and communication issues that follow. Even the dropped plot points could be a result of them struggling to meet page counts and the last chapters having to be split up yet still seeming rushed in the end. Or they “could” be somehow explained in the future once more details about the spirit and its motives come out, but that’s hard to pin your hopes on, and if they were really meant to be mysteries in themselves, you’d expect some character to point that out too.

While that’s not exactly promising, at least inexperience is fixable (by experience). To answer some asks: yes, it does seem for now like Mortuarty will be the main antagonist here. No, she is not Mima. No, I don’t think they’re picking up a detective team member from the SDM, and I sure hope they don’t with how plain they’ve been so far. And nobody asked, but yes, I’m a bit worried that they really are going through the games in order. Although it might mean that I get the Mokou murder mystery I’ve been joking about for a long time, knock on wood.

Now,

#ask #heca-tia #chireikiden disc.

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psychospeak-blog · 6 years

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Won’t Go Slowly // 9

One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight

A/N: Let’s get emotional up in hurrr. Also, big thanks to everyone for all the support on this!

"He what?" Danielle uttered in disbelief, her eyes widening as she very slowly set the glass of wine in her hand back down on the coffee table, and you just nodded.

"Oh yeah," you said, taking a sip of your own wine. Danielle's eyes were searching all over the place, like she was trying to comprehend this information. "That's --" "Insane?" you finished, "Oh, I know."

Danielle was still looking at you, not saying anything, and you sighed, leaning back against the couch. "Like, he never, ever thinks before he speaks," you continued, "Like, who the hell just hears someone wants to have a baby and then just goes, 'well, here, have some of my sperm!'"

You were being ridiculous in your intimidation, you knew that, but it felt kind of good to laugh at the whole ridiculousness of the situation. "He said it like that?" Danielle asked.

"No, no, of course not," you said. "Well, what did he say exactly?"

"He..." you started, recalling the conversation, "he asked if I considered asking someone I knew." "Did you?" Danielle asked.

"No," you said immediately. That wasn't how it was supposed to work, quite honestly. You'd done your homework, you'd gone to the clinics, and this was how it was supposed to happen. You were supposed to select one of these case numbers, one of these fine gentlemen who had already decided to donate their sperm, who'd already done it in fact, and it was all just waiting for you.

"I'm not just asking someone for their sperm," you said, quite definitely. Could you even imagine just going up to your co-worker one day and being like, hey Bob, can I have some of your sperm? Yeah, no.

"Right, of course not," Danielle agreed. You were pulling your hair back, sinking back further into the couch when your phone rang. You leaned forward, looking at the name on the screen.

"Speak of the devil," you murmured, bringing it to your ear to answer it. Before you could even get a "hello" out though, all you could hear was pounding music, and you remember that Tyler was supposed to be at a concert tonight. At first you thought he'd pocket dialed you, but you could definately hear him murmuring something into the phone, though you had absolutely no hope of making it out.

"Tyler!" you yelled. You could hear him continue to say something vaguely, but it was just the tone of his voice overshadowed by pounding music. "Tyler, I can't hear you!"

It continued for a minute more, and then he hung up, you assumed, and the line went silent. "What was that?" Danielle asked, and you just shrugged. "Have you talked to him since...?"

You shook your head 'no', but it hadn't even been 24 hours. "Well, what happened after?" she asked.

"We just wanted a movie," you said, as you had, ordering dinner and turning on Netflix, and then he'd taken the dogs home.

Now, though, you were doing pretty much the same thing, watching Netflix with Danielle and catching up on your show. It wasn't under the second episode was about halfway through that your phone rang again. Tyler.

"Hello?" you answered tentatively this time, but it was pretty quiet, actually. And you could hear what sounded like wind, or something.

"Hey," he said, and you could tell right away, just from the sound of his voice that he'd been drinking. "Tyler, where are you?"

"Walking home," he answered, "Where are you?" "I'm at home," you said. You looked quickly at Danielle and gave her a signal to let her know you'd be back in a moment and could keep the show going.

"Can you come over?" "I'm - Danielle's here," you said.

"Oh," he said, and then asked, "are you guys talking about me?" "No," you said convincingly. Because you had been, but you weren't anymore.

"Oh," he repeated again, "Girls usually talk about me."

You laughed lightly, glancing back into the living room, "Did you want to come over here?"

"No, I just needed to talk to you."

"Well, you can come over here and talk to me," you said, not understanding what was going on. You mentally calculated that you hadn't even started on your second glass of wine yet, so you'd be okay to drive, "Do you need me to come pick you up?"

"No, no," he said, and you could hear the wind again, "I need to talk to you alone." "Tyler, is everything alright?" you asked slowly. "Yeah, don't worry about, babe. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

Before you could even answer, he hung up, and you walked back into the living room, confusion evident on your face.

"Is everything alright?" Danielle asked, and you shrugged, sitting back down on the couch and pouring yourself a second glass of wine. Typically, you didn't have more than one glass on a weeknight but you were kind of wishfully hoping you'd be pregnant sooner rather than later, and figured you might as well enjoy it while you could. You sent off a quick text to Tyler asking him to text you back when he got home.

"He just said he needed to talk to me alone." Danielle's eyes widened for a split second and then regained their focus. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, no," you said, waving her off, "he's probably just drunk and thinks he's lonely but he really just needs sleep."

"Mmm..." she mused, and then continued, "Won't it be awkward?" "Hmmm?" you asked, as you phone buzzed with a text from Tyler with the single word "home" complete with a picture of his sock feet on the kitchen tile floor, which you supposed he sent as evidence to prove he really was home. "Won't it be awkward to see him again after what he said?" she asked, and you frowned immediately.

"No, of course not," you said breezily, "I've known him for 13 years, not much is really awkward. And, besides, it's not like he actually meant it." You fully expected to not hear Tyler mention needing to talk to you again, and assumed he'd forget about the whole phone call. However, you came out of a morning of meetings to see your phone filled with messages, all spaced out with messages sent over the past four or so hours.

Tyler: Could you come over please? Tyler: Still need to talk to you Tyler: Please Tyler: I know where you live so if you don't answer I'm coming over

You laughed once, under your breath, sitting down at your desk and responding "I'm at work."

Your phone buzzed again before you even had a chance to set it down.

Tyler: I know where you work too :)

You laughed, and said that you could come by after work after you stopped at home to get changed if he was still going to be around, to which he replied 'I'll be waiting."

You did as he said, only when you got to his house, he opened the door before you even had time to open it, like he'd actually been waiting for you. He stepped aside so you could come in, watching you the whole time. And the weird thing was, he seemed kind of twitchy, like he was nervous, even wiping his hands on his shorts.

" Are you okay?" "Me?" He questioned, "Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

You were still confused as you followed him into the kitchen, watching as he pulled a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water, pushing it into your hands. You accepted it taking a tentative sip, because that seemed to be what he was waiting for you to do.

"So..." he started, leaning to the side, his fingers tracing patterns on the kitchen counter, "You know that thing I said a couple of days ago?" There was only one thing he could be referring to, of course, so you answered that you did.

" Yeah," he said slowly and shyly, turning his head to look at you, "I probably shouldn't have done that."

He looked so concerned that you had to laugh. "I told you you shouldn't have said that."

He visibly relaxed for a second, but then he seemed to actually process what you said, putting all the pieces together, "What? No. I meant I shouldn't have said it like that."

Strangely, it felt like everything slowed down all of a sudden, and you weren't even entirely sure if anything else existed. "What?" you asked breathlessly, your throat dry.

"I should have, like, sat down and talked to you about it properly, not just blurt it out like that," he explained, "And I made it about me, kinda. And it's not - it's about you." Your mind, however, was still in a completely different place. "You meant it?"

Tyler smiled softly at you, "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

That glass of water that you were holding in your hand suddenly felt like it was going to slide out of your grasp in one quick movement, shattering on the tile floor, and sending glass and water shooting everywhere. You gripped your other hand over it, walking and shakily lowering it safely to the counter. You stepped back, noticing that Tyler had followed your movements so he was standing right next to you. "I didn't ask you to," you said simply.

"I know you didn't ask me to," he said firmly but gently, his hands going to clasp behind your lower back as you turned to him, yet still keeping the distance between you so he could look at your eyes. "I'm offering."

While your eyes felt misty and vulnerable, his were steady. You shook your head slowly, your face scrunching up, and you were positive the way your cheek was twitching was evident. "This isn't....this isn't funny."

His head titled off to the side, his hands still braced behind your low back. "I'm not laughing," he said, and then added, "I want you to have options. You should have options."

You swallowed hard. "This is a big deal, Tyler. It's not..." you looked away and then back at him again, "It's a really big deal to me." "I know, I know," he said, "It's a pretty big deal to me, too."

But you didn't think he could even possibly comprehend the amount of hours and emotional energy that you'd spent contemplating this whole decision to even try to have a baby, and you couldn't comprehend how he could just blurt something like that out, in a split second decision. "No, you're not hearing me," your hand slid down to his forearm, like you wanted to push it off, to get him to stop touching you, but you just wrapped your hand around and gripped it because you needed something to hold onto, and he didn't even flinch, "you have to think about this, Tyler."

He just shook his head slowly, speaking softly, "No, I don't, there's nothing for me to think about. Of course I would do this for you, babe."

Your hand moved to the back of your neck, looking off behind his shoulder.

"There'd be a child who is biologically yours. But it wouldn't be yours. Do you really think you could do that?"

The thing was, you couldn't even feel how anyone would be able to do that. Maybe it was the fact that you had always known you'd wanted children or just the way that you were wired, but you couldn't imagine knowing that someone else was raising what felt like your child, like your heart was living somewhere outside your body and you couldn't even know it, nurture it, or protect it. And you knew that there had to be people out there who were okay with it, it was evident from the seemingly infinite list of sperm donors you'd been given, but you couldn't imagine it for yourself.

"Could I do it for a stranger? Like in a sperm bank? No," Tyler admitted, "But for someone I know and love? Yeah, there's no question."

"Tyler..."

"Shhhh....you don't have to say anything right now," he said, his hands going to the back of your head, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, "Just... the offer's open." **** It turned out Danielle was right: things did get awkward. You felt like Tyler was constantly watching you, expecting you to bring it up, to give him a solid answer or and explanation or just...something. There was this constant, huge unspoken weight in the room.

The worst part was, though, that Tyler really wasn't treating you differently at all. He didn't bring it up once, he didn't look at you expectantly, and he seemed completely unbothered by the whole elephant in the room. The only change you noticed, really, was that he seemed to be a little more genuine around you, the amount that he teased you cut down significantly.

So the awkwardness was all on you. It was you who couldn't seem to get the thought off your mind, who couldn't seem to think that there was a ticking clock forcing you to make some kind of decision.

You were sitting off in the grass at Tyler's house, watching the water and listening to the background noises of the 'few people' he'd said he was having over. You hadn't wanted to come, quite honestly, but you felt like you should get out and at least be around people, rather than sitting in your apartment alone. Danielle was sitting next to you, talking about something that had happened at work but, really, your were only half-listening, the rest of your focus just on the movement of the water.

There was a flurry of loud laughter, and the both of you turned your head, the outdoor lights illuminating Tyler kissing Meghan messily on the cheek, a drink in his hand, all while simultaneously dancing to the music. You turned your head back to face the water, "So, you guys ever get that case figured out?" you promoted, and Danielle started talking again.

It wasn't until sometime later when Meghan came to sit down with the two of you, commenting about what a nice night it was and you smiled at her, bringing her into the conversation, while most of the boys seemed to be off in their own world on the deck.

Tyler wasn't too far behind through, carrying two drinks in his hand, the glass clinking together and you were surprised when he bent down in front of you, gesturing for you to take the glass, "Here, I made this for you." "I'm not drinking right now," you said firmly, and he frowned, almost stumbling back, and you knew, somewhere in his mind, he was likely already wondering if you'd started the process of trying to get pregnant and just hadn't told him, and you weren't sure what hurt him more: the thought that you hadn't talked to him, or your icy tone. He kept his lips pressed together though, even though Meghan looked a little taken aback at your reaction, looking from Danielle to Meghan,

"Would you two mind giving us a moment?"

They moved to stand up, but you beat them to it, "It's alright, I was just leaving anyways." You knew the three of them had to be confused, puzzled, but they said nothing, other than Tyler's faint "Y/N..." letting you leave.

Tyler didn't mention it at all though, not even two days later when you were sitting on his bed, watching him pack, sipping on an afternoon coffee you'd grabbed yourself on the way over. "Which one?" Tyler asked, holding up two black t-shirts that looked nearly identical to you.

"What's the difference?" you asked, and he just shrugged, folding them both messily and setting them in the open suitcase on the bed. You sighed, setting your coffee down on the nightstand, picking up the shirts and rolling them both methodically, and then packing them back into the suitcase.

"You don't have to do that," Tyler laughed. "You'll be able to fit so much more stuff this way, though," you protested. You still couldn't believe, with how much traveling that he didn't that he couldn't pack efficiently.

"I'm only going to be gone for three days, I won't need that much stuff." "You will if you're planning to pack two black shirts that are pretty much the same," you quipped.

Tyler laughed again, sticking out his tongue at you, "Hey, I need options." "Yeah, but you also need to save room for your hair products."

"You're so mean," Tyler whined dramatically, grabbing another article of clothing from his dresser and not even bothering to try to fold it, just handing it over to you. "At least I don't pack like a girl."

"I do not!" you protested, seeing as how he was looking at you suggestively. "Nah, you're pretty good actually," he said, "for a girl, anyways." It was quiet for a moment, you were just holding a rolled shirt in your hand, sitting on the bed, while Tyler had a pair of shorts in his hands, just looking at each other.

Until Gerry jumped onto the bed, and you yelped in surprise, trying to prevent him from crawling into the open suitcase and messing up all your hard work.

"Gerry, Gerry, you're not coming," Tyler said, "Y/N's gonna stay with you, and you're going to have so much fun. You be good for her, 'k?"

You laughed under your breath, and Tyler turned to you, "What?" "Nothing," you said softly, even though you were still smiling.

After you'd eaten dinner, all three dogs and you and Tyler crashed on the couch, watching a movie in mostly silence, other than a few comments or laughs, or the dogs trying to get your attention.

"You still have a key to my place, right?" he asked. "Yes..." you answered slowly.

"Okay, because I'm leaving tomorrow morning so you'll have to let yourself in. "Yes, I know, Tyler," you said tersely keeping your eyes focused on the movie, pulling your knees into your chest. And you knew, it was all because you'd been surprised when he mentioned this trip a couple of days ago, forgetting that you'd agreed to watch the dogs.

"You're sure you're still okay with taking care of them?" he asked, "Because I can ask someone else, it's no big deal."

"Fuck, Tyler, I said I'd stay with them and I will," you spat, and he immediately looked taken aback at your outburst, "You know what? I'm going to go home. I'll come back for the dogs tomorrow."

You stood up quickly, not even looking at him as you passed by where he was sitting on the couch. As soon as you walked by though, he was on your heels. "Y/N..." he said, but you just kept walking until you were at the front door, putting on your shoes, "Y/N!"

You were about to reach for the doorknob when he stepped in front of you, "Why are you being like this?"

You opened your mouth and then you shut it again, because you knew you only wanted to yell that you weren't being like anything, which would only prolong things, and start a huge blowout fight. You shut your eyes, breathing deeply.

"Can you just move, please? I just want to go home. I'm tired." "Tired?" he mocked, "No, it's not just tonight. You've been like....this for the last couple of weeks."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, because you couldn't argue with him. And you just needed him to get out of your way. "Would you just let me go home?"

His expression changed, softening in some ways but not others, speaking in an almost-whisper, taking a step closer to you, his voice raw, "It's like you're upset with me."

"Because I am upset with you!" you yelled.

His head moved backwards slightly, looking equal parts hurt and confused. "Why?"

"Because!" you cried out, your hands lifted and falling at your sides, "Because I thought I had it all figured out! And then you had to go and make me that offer, and I don't know anymore!"

His lips pressed together, and you could see him swallow. "Y/N...." he said, his hand trying to go to your arm to comfort you, but you pulled it out of his grasp.

"No, Tyler!"

He pulled his hand away from you. "What do you want me to do? I don't know what you want me to do."

"Fuck, Tyler, I wanted..." you brushed your hair back aggressively, "I wanted everything to not be so fucked up!"

"Y/N..."

"No!" you yelled again, just wanted to rip your own hair out of your head. "It's not fair! I didn't want to make this decision. I didn't think I'd have to...I...I'm so mad at my body for forcing me to do this."

Your hand was clenched into a fist, and you raised it up, "I'm so mad!" you yelled, and you had the inexplicable urge to just hit him, your hand going hard to his chest. And even though he was just standing there, not making a move to stop you, your stopped yourself, slowing your motion at the last second just resting your fist there.

"I'm so mad!" you yelled again, but this time your voice was breaking as hot, angry tears started rolling down your cheeks, the back of your throat burning. Your hand that was in a fist released, your palm gripping his chest, and you could feel his heart pounding beneath, your own heart pounding in your ears.

"I'm so mad, I'm so mad," you repeated, your voice lowering to a whisper, until it dissipated.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, just barely pulling your hand from his body and you looked up at him in surprise, realizing you'd just been staring at this chest the whole time, not even connecting your eyes with his. And then, all at once, his lips were connecting with yours, softly and deliberately, his hand still holding your arm, but his soft grip getting even looser.

Your eyes widened as soon as you realized what has happened, pressing with purpose to move him away from you. "What are you doing?"

He just took a couple steps backwards, and then licked his lips, looking stunned.

"You were upset," he said, like that explained everything.

"Since when do you kiss me when I'm upset?"

"I don't..." he shook his head slowly, looking just as confused as you felt, "I don't know. I-I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

You let that sink in for a moment, and then made a movement to push past him, "I've got to go."

"Don't," he said firmly, gripping your arm hard and then he seemed to look down and realize what he was doing, releasing it back at your side, "don't go. You can stay in my room, or the guest room, or we can sleep on the couch, I don't care. Just...stay. Please."

#wont go slowly #tyler seguin imagine #series #tyler seguin #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine

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tankcupcakes · 7 years

Text

Into the Mystic - Five

Characters: Dean, Sam, Cas, OCs

Warnings: I'll just give this whole thing a blanket warning of language, fluff, and angst Word Count: 3,150

A/N: This story is a sequel to THUNDER ROAD - catch up HERE! Special thanks to Angie @atc74 and Megan @paintrider13-blog for helping me brainstorm and reading through this! ❤️

Feedback is always excellent - tags are open! This will be a wilder ride than before, so buckle up, friends! :) xoxo

Into the Mystic Masterlist Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four tankcupcakes masterlist

March, 2017 Lebanon, Kansas

A week after the mind-meld debacle, about two weeks after Eve's arrival, things had begun to simmer back down at the bunker.

Dean was in a better spirits, so everyone else was too - but this particular morning he had woken up in a foul mood due to a vivid nightmare he'd had while sleeping. He was dreaming about hell again.

He was alone in his bed, something he noticed immediately, and he got up, dressing quickly before venturing into the hall. Eve's room was empty, as were Sam and JD's. Cas had gone to check a lead on Lucifer, leaving a couple days prior. Everything was quiet. Dean started to feel a little nervous, walking just a bit quicker into the kitchen, library, and war room - all of which were vacant. Heading back down the hall to the other side of the bunker, his heart rate slowly rising, he heard muffled laughter and cheering coming from the shooting range. His creeping paranoia subsided, but the anxiety remained as he pulled the door open. JD, Sam, and Eve all stood at the far end, and she appeared to have just fired, safety ear muffs hung around her neck. The smile was wiped from Sam's face instantly when he saw Dean enter the room and stalk toward them. "Oh, man, Dean! You should've seen it - shot it right between the eyes, she did!" JD seemed to be bubbling over with excitement, his grin wide and eyes sparkling. Upon turning and seeing Dean - as well as the irritated expression on his face - Eve suddenly elbowed JD in the ribs and he glanced down at her. She was shaking her head as she muttered, "Stop. Mad. He's mad." A look of surprise and realization crossed his face as he nodded, his enthusiasm squashed as he faced Dean again. "Who's idea was it to bring her in here?" Dean asked, turning his attention to Sam, who stared back at him with a stony look on his face. "Mine," Eve answered immediately, completely willing to take the heat for this, but Dean could feel the guilt coming from her. He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Liar," he countered, crossing his arms as he was met with silence. "Uh, well, I guess I suggested it, didn't I?" JD said after a moment, hoping to diffuse the situation with the truth. "I didn't think -" "Didn't think what?" Dean asked. "Didn't think it would be a big deal to get her killed?" "Dean," Eve said in a warning tone, her hands planted on her hips. "Shooting a gun at a paper target is hardly going to get me killed." "No, but thinking you're prepared to use it in the field will." "Shouldn't she actually be prepared, then...?" JD asked uncertainly, shifting his eyes from Eve to Dean. "She's not going out with us," Dean replied rigidly. "Not now, not ever." Eve opened her mouth to reply, but Dean pointed at her before she could get any words out. "And you can save it - you'll thank me when everyone else we know is dead." "That's enough, Dean," Sam spoke firmly and for the first time since Dean had entered the room. Raising both eyebrows as he looked at his younger brother, Dean let his arms fall to his side. "Oh yeah? You think this is a good idea?" "Yeah, I do," Sam replied evenly with a nod, refusing to back down as he kept his eyes locked with Dean's. "You can't be serious, Sam. You know how dangerous it is out there -" "Exactly, Dean - we both know how dangerous it is. That's why it's important for her to be able to protect herself." "Sam -" "And don't be so arrogant to think that you're the only one who cares about her," Sam replied swiftly, unwilling to allow himself to be interrupted. "Look, you can lock her up here and pretend that she's not going to see combat all you want. But, don't you want her to be prepared? I'm not trying to be a dick, but it's inevitable that she's going to need to know how to defend herself." Everyone silently waited for Dean to respond, but he didn't, so Sam continued, “I'm not saying she should go out in the field with us - I don't want that either, but there may be times that she has to." “I’m not raring to go charging into any hunts, Dean,” Eve said, tilting her head slightly as she spoke to meet Dean’s gaze. “Honestly, I’d prefer to never have to fire at anything, but I agree with Sam - I should know how.”

Dean’s eyes went from Eve, to JD, and landed on Sam as he heaved a sigh.

“Now maybe, instead of making us feel shitty about this, you could help us?" Sam suggested in a lighter tone. "We both know you're the best teacher, and she's already got great aim. How many times did she kick our asses in darts?" Dean watched him carefully before allowing himself to crack a small smile. "Alright," he said, nodding. "You're right. She needs to be able to defend herself.” He turned to Eve again. “Bet you can’t hit that thing between the eyes twice in a row.”

A few hours later, target practice had ended and everyone had dispersed into separate areas of the bunker.

Dean had gone to take a shower and after found Eve laying across her bed, reading.

“Hey,” he said, leaning on the door frame, “you wanna drive into town? As cute as you look in all my clothes, I thought you might want to get some of your own. And maybe a phone or something.”

“Are you offering to take me shopping?” she asked with a smirk. “You feeling okay?”

He chuckled. “Yes. Just wanted to offer you an olive branch for being a dick since you've been back.”

“And you want to watch me freak out around technology again?”

“Maybe a little, yeah.”

“Sure,” she said with a nod as she rolled off the bed and stood. “That sounds fun. Give me a minute to get ready and we can go.”

Dean smiled at her before wandering off into the library, where JD was sitting slumped over the table, his chin resting on his hands.

“Ughhh, Dean, I’m bored,” JD whined as he entered the room.

Dean stopped and gave JD an offended look. “Do not use that voice, you are a grown man.” He resumed walking again toward the war room. “And sorry, buddy, can't help you. Evie and I going to Hays so she can pretend like she’s a millennial.”

“Can I come?” he asked, raising his head as his face lit up like a puppy’s.

Dean had really hoped to take her alone, but did feel a little pang of guilt. He stopped again. “Actually -”

Sam walked into the library then. “Hey, guys.”

“Sam,” Dean began, “I was hoping to take Evie into the city, could you and JD-”

“Oh, you're going into town?” Sam asked, looking up expectantly. “I need to look at a new charger for my laptop, mine’s acting fritzy…”

“Aye, let’s all go,” JD said, hopping up from his seat as he pulled his phone out and showed it to Sam. “Och, my screen is doing somethin’ weird, d’you see that?”

“Sam,” Dean deadpanned, but it was no use as both men had already turned and started heading to the garage.

“Hey,” Eve said as she reappeared next to him. “You ready?”

He had a disappointed look on his face as he sighed and nodded. “Yeah, me and the whole Winchester clan.”

They had driven into Hays, which was almost two hours of loud off-key singing.

There was a large strip mall in the center of town - Sam and JD had broken off to go to an electronics store while Dean had taken Eve to pick some clothes.

Ironically, 60’s and 70’s fashions were popping back up, which she had gotten a laugh out of. This was mostly what she leaned towards, but had opted for some more modern choices as well. She’d really liked the skinny jeans, grabbing a few different colors and even chose to wear a pair out of the store.

They’d met up with Sam and JD again afterward - Sam had picked a suitable smart phone for a beginner and told her he’d help her get it all set up back at the bunker.

A small music store was near the lot they parked in and Eve looked over at Dean wishfully. He laughed and nodded his head and she practically pranced inside.

Dean cocked his head to the side as he watched her walk away - the jeans she'd bought were definitely working for her. "Quit it," JD muttered, elbowing him in the side. "Quit what?" Dean asked after a moment, snapping out of his trance as he turned to JD. "Quit eye-fucking her." Dean scoffed and gave JD an indignant look. "First of all, I'm not eye-fucking her, and second of all, mind your own business." "Aye, well - most unfortunately, you made it my business." "You made it your business." "She's my mother -" "Oh my god, I can't deal with you today," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes as he looked at Sam. "Is this what it's like to talk to me?" JD huffed. "Excuse me, but I am delightful to be around -" "You're a pain in my ass, is what you are," Dean replied. "You guys are a mess," Sam said, shaking his head with a smirk as he followed Eve into the store. Sam had taken an immense amount of joy in being able to introduce her to music from the 90's - it was his personal favorite and he spent over an hour in that one section. He promised to bring her back to expand her music collection again later that week.

The worst part about this trip for Dean was JD buying a Duran Duran album - and playing it the whole way home. He heard Hungry Like the Wolf no less than five times that day.

Later that evening as Sam prepared to retire for the evening, he stopped at Eve’s room, her door open.

"Hey," he said, leaning on Eve's door frame as he gave it a few courteous taps. Eve stood near him, setting up the record player Dean had bought her earlier that day on the desk. Her face lit with a smile as she looked up to see him. "Hey yourself - what's up?" "Nothing, I... I've wanted to tell you, but it never really seemed appropriate to say, y'know? Never a good time to mention..." She eyed him carefully, one eyebrow raised. "Out with it, then." "I wanted to thank you," he blurted, awkwardly crossing his arms over his chest. "For what you did for us. For him." "For both of you," she corrected him back to his original statement, turning to fiddle with the record player again. "Either way," he continued, still standing in the doorway like it was some kind of threshold, "It took a lot of courage. I already knew what kind of person you were, but the things you sacrificed for us? You're far better than we deserve." "You better shut your damn mouth," she replied evenly, not looking over. He gave a dry chuckle, one side of his mouth twitching up as he absently ran a hand through his hair. "Anyway - I'll leave you alone, I just wanted to tell you that." "You're welcome," she said softly after a moment, eyes flashing up to him briefly before diverting back down. "I'd do it again." Sam heaved a sigh, though his half smile stayed where it was. "I hope you'll never have to." She didn't respond to this, placing one of her new records inside the player and setting the needle over it. "Sam?" she said just as he had turned to exit, causing him to swivel back. "Yeah?" She didn't say anything for a moment, arms hung at her sides as she looked up at him with her head cocked to the side. "You okay?" he asked, his head involuntarily tilting too. She nodded but still didn't speak as she stood on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. "Eve?" he said uncertainly, one arm squeezing her in return. She was smiling when she pulled away, one hand resting on his cheek for a moment before she took a step back. "You are a wonderful and kind man, Sam Winchester - I hope you remember that always." He chuckled nervously. "You're kinda scaring me here, Evie - what's going on?" "Nothing," she dismissed with a shake of the head. "You told me something that was uncomfortable for you, and I had something to tell you too. It's just - when Cas did the brain whammy -" Sam snorted "- I saw and felt some of the things that have happened to you, the way Dean felt them. I know self loathing is a classic Winchester trait, but I just wanted to tell you that. You're wonderful and I love you like you were my own brother." Sam blinked widened eyes at her statement - eyes that were a little watery and he cleared his throat uncomfortably as he nodded. "Thank you," he said sincerely. He surprised her when he hugged her tight again. "I love you too. And I've never had a sister before, but it's hard to imagine a better one than you." She smiled over his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. "Thank you for taking care of JD. And Dean, of course." A crooked grin was on his face as they pulled away from each other and he shook his head. "Looking after Dean's dumb ass was my responsibility long before you came along," he said with a wink, and the two of them shared a laugh. “G’night, Evie.”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

Dean's eyes shot open as he lay quietly in his dark bedroom. A tilt of the head showed him the clock on the wall, glowing brightly - 3:00 AM. His outstretched fingers glided across the bed sheets, finding nothing on the other side of the mattress. Fear took hold in an instant, and it was at that moment that JD's voice rang loudly from a few rooms over. "Don't you touch me!" A loud shattering sound followed this and Dean had vaulted from his bed in a split second, hurdling down the hall, swinging JD's door wide open. Light from the hall filtered in the room and he could see Eve on the ground with her back against the wall, JD crouched down beside her. Dean flipped the light on to see her cradling a bloody hand in her lap, a terrified look on her paler than normal face. Broken glass lay scattered on the ground around her and the scene wasn't all that difficult to piece together. Drenched in sweat and out of breath, JD's face wore an expression of deep regret and shock as he stared at Eve. After a moment, he looked up at Dean. "It was an accident," he gasped out. Eve also peered up at Dean, who shifted his gaze to her, his heart drumming in his chest. "What happened?" "He was having a nightmare," she replied softly. "I could hear him down the hall. I tried to wake him up, but I scared him and he shoved me. I brought the glass down with me." Dean dipped down to kneel beside her too. "Let me see," he said, holding his hands out for her injured one. She did as he asked, and he examined the pieces of glass sticking out of her palm. JD moved to reach his hand out, perhaps to remove the glass, but retracted it again quickly, still watching Eve carefully with wide eyes. Dean's eyes flicked up to meet his son's before focusing again on the task in front of him. "I've got it," he said evenly, addressing both of them as he plucked the three large pieces of glass out. "There are a couple smaller pieces, I need to go grab some tweezers. I'm gonna need to stitch you up too - this is pretty deep." She nodded at him, appearing to have calmed herself, but still on edge. "Are you okay?" he asked, searching her eyes for the truth before he would leave the room. Eve let out an exhale and nodded her head. "Alright," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before standing. "I'll be right back." He stopped at the door to glance at JD, who was still frozen down on the ground by Eve, the look of horrified shock firmly in place. He looked like a child. When Dean returned a few minutes later, he hesitated in the doorway, unsure if he should interrupt them or not. Eve sat where he had left her, injured hand propped out of the way, JD's head in her lap. His body was curled into as much of a ball as his large frame would allow, one arm wrapped around her back, and he murmured apologies between sobs. She shushed him gently, her good hand softly stroking his hair. If she hadn't had an injury that needed attention, Dean wouldn't have disturbed this moment in a million years - as it was, he moved as quickly and quietly as he could. She sucked in a sharp breath through her clenched teeth as Dean began to stitch the gash, and this sound seemed to bring JD back to reality. He looked up at her and then over at Dean, his face flushing as he pulled himself back together, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. "What was your dream about?" Dean murmured, attention focused on his sewing. "Nothin'," JD muttered back. "Mmm... seems like a lot of fuss for 'nothin'," he replied. JD's face was still burning red and he shook his head. "I'd prefer not to talk about it, if it's all the same to you," he said defensively. "Suit yourself," Dean murmured in the same soft tone, tying the last stitch off. He stood, taking Eve's good hand and helping her to her feet. One hand brushed her cheek and he gave her a half smile. He looked past her at JD. "If you change your mind, I know a thing or two about nightmares." Without another word about it, Dean turned to leave, Eve releasing his hand briefly to turn back to JD, who was still seated on the floor. She bent down and kissed his forehead softly, one hand smoothing his hair before she took Dean's hand again, the pair of them leaving the room, sharing secret looks of concern.

Part Six

TAGS: @chelsea072498 @percywinchester27 @atc74 @paintrider13-blog @d-s-winchester @death2thevirgin @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @just-another-busy-fangirl @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @mamaredd123 @lalocket @nanie5 @thebabeontheback @dreamwhisper87 @notnaturalanahi

#dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic

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ancientbooshartifacts · 4 years

Text

Sweet Boys (The Little Silver Skirt)

Author: NonExistantPup

Year: 2010

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Dave Brown/Sue Denim

Dave has attempted to come onto Sue four times. Not that she’s counted or anything. Four times seems like a lot, of course, but not when one knows the circumstances. The first time, for instance, didn’t really count. It had been when Sue was about to start college. She’d been lost in her own mind, humming a tune as she was on her way to catch the tube. A friend of hers at the time - Sarah Winsworth - was about to move to America, and Sue was feeling quite despondent. Angry too. Sue had been a lot angrier in those days. Anyway, Dave Brown happened to be the slightly drunken simpleton she ran into along the way to the station. “Oi!” he’d called, and Sue had looked up, not sure whether she was annoyed or worried. It was difficult to mistrust anybody with those eyes though, and the fact that he was wearing jazz-ballet shoes was reassuring too. “What?” she’d yelled back. “Can I walk you home?” Sue had blinked. “Fuck off.” As it happened, though, he did end up walking with her to the tube station, and when she hopped on the train, Sue felt a bit better. Except that now she was a little bit disheartened by the idea that she would probably never see Dave again. He hadn’t asked for her number, and she couldn’t exactly ask him. Sue was a girl. She taps her foot against the floor, frowning slightly. Sue is in the audience at the first Future Sailors dress and tech rehearsal, and is waiting for the show to continue. There has been some delay with a massive prop, so everybody’s just waiting. No wonder her mind is wandering; she looks at her phone and contemplates calling Dee, but decides against it. Sue crosses her arms. The second time Dave hit on her didn’t really count either, mostly because she had been utterly certain that he was joking. It wasn’t until afterwards that Dee had told her bluntly that she was a bitch for turning him down so rudely. At that point, Sue hadn’t been particularly happy with men though, so it was probably for the best that she didn’t wind up with somebody like Dave. Somebody she could wound. Finally, there is a bizarre gust of some sort of smoke and Sue’s mind comes back to the present. To the show. It seems to be continuing again. But the microphones have been fucked up. Only the faint echo of unamplified voices reaches her. Noel looks like he’s having a hissy fit, but then he giggles and kisses Mike on the cheek, so presumably this was a joke. Sue didn’t hear it though. Because the microphones have been fucked up. The fourth time Dave hit on her was quite sad. Sue had been with Chris at the time, and happy too, while Dave had just broken up with his girlfriend. Since the third time - the one serious time - Sue had almost said yes, Dave said he thought he might as well try. That last time didn’t count either. Not really. So now that Sue thinks about it more closely, Dave has only asked her out once really, and that’s nothing. Things have been awkward between them since then, and they have consequently avoided being in each other’s company. Sue had decided she didn’t care. Not really. Dave was sweet, see, but their timing was shit. This was a good way of thinking. No dramas, no stupid giddiness. Right now, though, as she watches him on the stage, hands upon his hips and with a mutant mask pushed up on top of his head, this resolve is weakened. She’s giddy again. “Right, time for a break,” says the voice of the stage manager from one of the wings. “We’ll get the mics sorted; this is ridiculous.” Sue sighs. She is alright though. In fact, the more she thinks about it, she’s kind of glad. It’s not a good idea to sit here, all confused with herself and repressed. “Call it two hours and we’ll take it from the top. If the tech’s under control, anyway.” Sue smiles slightly now, uncrossing her legs and standing up. She doesn’t even try to deny the thought that crosses her mind: That’ll be plenty of time. The backstage area is surprisingly chaotic - but then, in shows like this, a bit of chaos must be unavoidable. The dressing rooms are small in this theatre, save for one large one which seems to be populated by everyone. It is right now, in any case. Sue considers going in there and telling them that she’s enjoying the show thus far, but honestly, that’s quite far from her mind. And anyway, the whole thing was fucked up by the tech problems; how is she supposed to judge? But then, she can’t exactly go in there and ask Dave to please- It’s this moment that she hears his voice though, just behind her. “Just your luck, eh? We’ve never had this much trouble with a tech rehearsal.” Sue turns. Okay, so he’s not right behind her. At least ten paces away, in fact. At first, Dave seems a little bit awkward, but it very quickly deteriorates into a shifty form of nervousness. Sue is staring. Just a bit. But she is staring. The costume looks all the more divine from this close, especially given that the mask has been removed. The level of detail is exquisite. Dave is wearing silver shoes, like sneakers but more slender and shiny, and sparkling silver leggings. Tight around his waist is the little silver skirt, puffing up at one side and reaching about halfway down his thighs. The top part of the costume - the weird, futuristic breast-plate - is in his hands, and with one arm, he moves it upwards to cover his singlet-covered chest a bit more efficiently. And Sue is still staring. Why is she staring? Dave scratches his head self-consciously, looking wishfully towards Noel’s dressing room as if willing somebody to come out and break the silence. Nobody does. “Aren’t you hot?” asks Sue instead. She realises how this sounds, but doesn’t regret it. Oddly enough, she’s rather enjoying seeing Dave this awkward and any discomfort she may have personally felt has simply melted away. “Erm - what?” Sue smiles, stepping towards him a little. It takes some effort, but she tears her eyes from his little silver skirt, away from the uncovered hips. “Hot,” she repeats. “On stage. In that costume. Leggings can be hell.” Dave smiles nervously. As Sue advances, he looks as if he’d like to retreat but can’t think of a way to do it politely. That works. “It’s - nothing compared to a gorilla outfit,” he says with a nervous shrug. Sue gives a little smile. She doesn’t stop stalking towards him until she’s just under a metre away. She can see the little beads of sweat upon Dave’s skin - caused by the stage lights or by her, it’s impossible to say. “Wig’s a bit silly.” Dave frowns a little, and then gives a shrug. “Meant to be, I guess.” Uncertainly, he pulls off the wig. It’s attached to his mask, so that is taken from the top of his head too, and suddenly he looks a little bit smaller. “Why’s your hair spraypainted silver?” “Thought it might be easier than wearing a stupid wig.” “Why’s your skirt so short?” Dave shrugs again, looking back at Noel’s dressing room. “Dunno.” Sue raises one eyebrow. “I mean - I don’t trip over it when it’s short.” Dave amends himself. He is actually blushing. Sue likes that too. “I think I’ll see if I can get a longer one than... than this though.” “Where’s your dressing room?” she asks. It’s as if she’s drawn a knife or something; Dave looks frightened. Actually frightened. Of what? Mortification, perhaps; he had liked Sue for a long time, probably still does (and she is pretty sure this isn’t just wishful thinking). “There,” he says, pointing blankly in the direction of the door closest to the two of them. “I was just - I mean, I am just dropping off costume things before... Before joining the others.” “Well, don’t let me keep you,” Sue tells him with an amused little grin. Like a teenager with a crush, he swallows and nods. “Okay then,” he says awkwardly. “I’ll - you just wait here. Or don’t, whatever you like.” He almost adds something else, but instead turns away to hurry into his dressing room. From the back, Sue can see that his singlet is damp and grey and there’s a little Boosh logo upon his lower back. She follows Dave into his dressing room, and although he’s already dropped the mask and chest-piece into a plastic box, Sue closes the door behind them. It’s nice in here. There are two chairs and a small desk, as well as a tall mirror upon one wall. It’s a mess, but the kind of mess that is probably organised to the person who made it. In this case, Dave. He looks at her nervously. “Er - Sue...” “You said to do whatever I liked,” Sue tells him, smiling in ever so slight amusement. “Is this not okay?” “Well...” He is about to speak, but then notices that her gaze is falling, taking in the sight of his ever-so-slightly glistening skin, his arms, his chest. And down to that skirt which so deeply fascinates her. Dave crosses his arms over his body self-consciously. “That’s not what I meant. Just - what are you doing here?” “You’re an awfully sweet boy, aren't you, Dave?” Dave looks slightly alarmed. “What?” “I thought it was that you were... I don't know. Stupid or something. Bumbling. But you're not. You’re just terribly sweet.” Dave frowns, apparently not sure whether he ought to be flattered or insulted. He settles for merely saying, “Oh.” That’s good enough for Sue. She steps towards him. Or rather, stalks. She feels tingly, like a hunter. A lioness. She stops only when she is right in front of Dave. With one hand, Sue fiddles with the hem of Dave’s silver skirt, twisting it between her fingers thoughtfully. “I like sweet boys.” Dave swallows. “Oh?” Sue gives a nod. “Do you still like me?” she asks softly, although the question is practically rhetorical given Dave’s state right now. “Do you still want me?” “Oh, God yes,” he murmurs, and Sue smiles. Her eyes don’t leave his face as she runs her hand up Dave’s thigh and under his skirt to firmly grasp his arse. “Sure?” Dave nods mutely. His eyes are wide, gaze locked upon hers. Those eyes are so very, very blue. Sue tilts her head to one side, looking into them with fascination and wondering why she’s never really done this before. There’s so much to see. “I only ask because there are some wonderful, terrible things I’d like to do to you,” Sue whispers. Her body is lightly touching his. So lightly. The fabric of her shirt brushes against his chest, right at the peaks of her modest breasts, and she can feel the fluffy edge of his skirt against her denim-clad thighs. With her free hand, Sue touches the front of Dave’s thigh, her fingers moving up slowly, pushing his skirt out of the way until she is cradling the stiffening mound of his arousal with her palm. The leggings he’s wearing are tight, and he’s wearing briefs (or the like) underneath them, but he jumps at the touch anyway. “Sue...” She squeezes gently and Dave mumbles something under his breath. He is growing still harder in her hand. “Would you like me to do that, Dave?” Dave whimpers. His body is almost perfectly still, frozen. But then he nods. “How much?” “Very - very, very much. Very much,” Dave mumbles thickly. “You - have no idea...” Sue snickers, tracing her fingernails over his restrained cock. “I think I have some idea.” Dave flushes, cringing slightly as he breaks eye contact with Sue, sheepish. Almost ashamed. Most of the make-up is gone from his face, so there’s nothing to hide the pink tinge to his cheeks - and his nose too, which is unbelievably adorable. “I just... I don't understand,” he mutters. Despite the movements of both of her hands, Sue places a chaste kiss upon his cheek. “You’re getting felt up in your dressing room and enjoying it. What’s not to understand, Dave?” She moves a little closer, placing another little kiss upon his neck, and then his jaw, breathing him in. How had she not noticed how good he smelled before now? “Don’t you want me to do things to you? I promise they will feel good. Very good. And I won't hurt you.” She is whispering now, merely breathing against Dave’s neck. She can feel the warmth, the tension there, and bites him ever so lightly. Not enough to hurt at all, but enough to show that she could. “Not if you don't want me to, anyway. And even then, not too badly. I told you, I like sweet boys. I won’t break you.” Dave turns his head to look at her again, and Sue shifts forward a bit more so their thighs are touching. “Promise?” Dave asks. He’s smiling ironically, trying to pretend this is only a joke. Instead of answering, Sue just presses her lips against his. Her hands move lightly, gently, under his skirt, fingers tugging at the stretchy fabric of his leggings to inch them down. Dave tries to say something, but they are kissing at the time and all that comes out is a muffled little sound only vaguely recognisable as speech. If Dave wanted to back away, he could. He doesn't. If he wanted to take control, he would. He doesn't do that either. Invigorated and reassured, Sue pulls his leggings down over the firm roundness of his arse. How she never noticed that before, Sue cannot even begin to comprehend. She pauses as her fingers hook over the waistband of his underwear. “Am I going to get you in trouble, Dave?” she asks softly. Dave shakes his head, and Sue frowns. He subconsciously licks his lips. “I mean - don't care,” Dave murmurs. “That’s better.” Sue kisses him again. Her mouth is closed and so is his; in each kiss, their lips merely brush together lightly. Very, very chaste, despite the fact that Sue’s hands are now tightly gripping Dave’s bare arse. She can feel his chest rising and falling quickly. He’s panting, just a bit, and watching her with a combination of lust and awe. Although a certain amount of this is just surprise, Sue likes to think that whatever feelings Dave’s harbored for her are a part of that look. She likes to think he’s feeling lucky. Carefully, she pulls his leggings down further, dropping to a crouch in front of him to peel them away from his skin so his trousers and boyish y-fronts are bunched around his ankles. She sets about undoing his silver shoelaces, smiling as she can feel electric blue eyes upon her. Sue looks up. “You looking down my shirt, Dave?” He immediately averts his eyes. “No.” Sue grins, placing a little kiss upon his knee. “It’s okay,” she says softly. “I'm looking up your skirt anyway.” His cheeks are streaked with colour again, and Sue kisses Dave’s other knee as her hands move to undo the other set of shoelaces. “Do you know your nose turns a little bit pink when you blush?” Dave winces, clearly embarassed. One hand covers his eyes, but he peeks out at her from between his fingers. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Sue shrugs. “I like it. Step out of your shoes and pants now, dear. You can lean on me for balance.” Dave obediently raises one leg; his balance is impeccable though, and he doesn't need to use Sue for support. She pulls off his shoe and slightly-damp sock, and then slips his underwear and leggings from that ankle. They are both quiet as this process is repeated on the other side, and when Dave is standing there, wearing only a grey singlet and a little silver tutu, he begins to look nervous again. He is fidgeting with his skirt, but Sue wants it left on. After a moment of thought, she raises her arms and pulls her red shirt off over her head. Underneath is a matching red bra, but she leaves it. “Here, hold this,” Sue offers, and hands her shirt to Dave. He takes it with both hands and then brings it up to his face, sniffing Sue's shirt and looking, for the moment, contented. It’s at that point that Sue begins to kiss a little trail up the inside of Dave’s thigh. He is surprised and she feels her shirt fall lightly upon her head. “Oi,” she scolds. “Sorry.” Dave very quickly picks it up again. “Go and sit on that desk,” Sue commands gently as she stands up, brushing imaginary dirt from her jeans. Dave quickly does so, pushing what looks to be a pile of clothes and a thick, bound shief of papers onto the floor without a moment’s hesitation. He sits with his knees together modestly, which makes Sue smile a bit. She’s never really thought of Dave as modest; perhaps it's just around girls. Or possibly just when he’s not wearing anything under his tiny silver skirt. Sue takes her time to unbutton her pretty, heavily patched jeans, and lets them fall to the floor. She's wearing plain white knickers, but Dave gives a little grunt never the less when he sees them. Sue grins at him as she steps out of her jeans. “Cheers.” She bends down and picks up her jeans, folding them neatly in half and tossing them onto a little table by the door. Luckily, there’s a chair by the desk, and it doesn't seem to be acting as a shelf for something, so Sue walks over and picks it up. “Open your legs, Dave.” Dave licks his lips, obeying instantly although he looks embarassed and slightly sheepish. Sue walks in front of him, still carrying the chair. “Bit wider. Don’t be shy.” Dave blushes once more and closes his eyes tightly, but he also obeys this order, leaning back on one hand in order to spread his legs. He looks so wanton, and although he is self-conscious, Sue likes that he doesn't actually seem unhappy. She places the chair down against the desk, back to front. This means the back rest is firmly between Dave’s knees. Sue kneels on the chair comfortably and grasps Dave’s hips, pulling him toward her more so the chair’s holding his legs a little bit wider still, his silver skirt bunched up at his hips. He’s very erect now, despite neither of them having actually touched his cock yet. “Are you ashamed?” asks Sue curiously as she runs her fingers over his thighs. Dave opens his eyes and looks straight at her. “No.” “Embarassed?” “Fuckin’ mortified,” Dave admits with a nervous laugh. Sue licks her hand wetly and wraps it around his erection, firm and confident. “Good answer.” “Oh - fuck,” Dave mumbles, shuddering slightly. After all this, he must be feeling very sensitive. Sue squeezes him a little harder, pumping just once. The hand which Dave isn't using for balance is curled up in a tight fist at his chest, holding onto Sue’s shirt. Sue decides she likes that. In fact, she likes it so much that, as she strokes the sensitive head of Dave’s cock with her thumb, her other hand runs down her own belly and into her knickers. “Do you like having my hand up your skirt?” she asks, her own voice becoming a bit huskier as her fingers rub gently between her legs. She is slippery and moist - probably has been since she was sitting in that audience, watching Dave on stage - and her whole body tingles as her fingers move slowly against her clitoris. “You're - quite domineering, aren't you?” Dave responds breathlessly. “Not always.” Sue shrugs. “But I like it. Especially when I've got a sweet, docile boy like you to play with.” As if to punctuate this sentiment, her hand moves quickly, pumping his cock a few times before slowing down again, just to see the tension rise in his body. And he does moan so beautifully, legs folding under the desk and hips trying to buck despite his thighs being spread as wide as they can do. “You are awfully submissive.” “Not - not always,” Dave mumbles, although he’s obviously having a difficult time forming words. “But I like it. Being told what - and God, you’re fucking gorgeous.” Sue feels an increased twinge of arousal. “Thank you. The feeling is mutual.” She leans forward a bit, placing a light, wet kiss upon the tip of Dave’s cock. He gives a little whimper. “Fuck...” “You do swear an awful lot when you're being touched like this, Dave.” “I can stop,” Dave responds quickly. “If you - if you want-” Sue grins, moving her legs apart slightly and pushing two fingers inside of herself as her thumb continues to move against her clitoris. “What if I didn’t want you to make any sound at all?” she murmurs as she touches herself, fingers moving in a steady rhythm. Her other hand moves down from Dave’s shaft to hold onto his balls. His hips twist slightly as her index finger tickles his perinium. “I could - I could do that,” he mumbles, leaning back on both hands now as his head isn't clear enough to balance with one. “What if I liked it when you wore little skirts like this. What if I wanted you to do it just for me, Dave?” Dave nods. “Whatever you want - whenever you want, Sue. I will do... whatever.” Feeling smug, Sue licks a wet trail along Dave’s shaft, fingering herself more quickly now. The arousal gives her energy. Gives her strength, power, elegance, control... It’s intoxicating. Wonderful. “But you know, having you dressed like this, it makes me want to do all sorts of other things to you, Dave,” she whispers. The words are spoken in between the little kisses she presses against his cock. “And when you’re wearing a skirt, there’s not much to protect you. You’re all available for me. ‘Specially when I don’t let you wear anything underneath.” Dave is panting, squirming. “Don't care,” he rasps. “I mean - good. Or - fuck, Sue...” Sue enjoys shutting Dave up, and the most interesting way is by wrapping her lips around his cock and sucking hard. She is getting close to orgasm already, and as much as she would like to drag this out for as long as possible, having somebody walk in would probably put Dave off. Her fingers move quicker still as she moves one leg off the chair, opening herself up more. She moans around Dave’s cock. Sue makes sure she comes first, mostly because she wants a clear mind and both of her hands free when she drives Dave to his climax too. A powerful flush of pleasure and for a moment, the world sparkles that little bit more. Sue looks up at Dave with a dark, knowing grin. She raises her hand and presses her fingers into Dave’s mouth one at a time, watching with deep satisfaction as he sucks each one clean. “Look at me, Dave,” Sue murmurs, now with both hands wrapped lightly around his cock. “I - I am.” Sue grins affectionately and pecks him on the lips. “Keep your eyes on me,” she corrects herself. Dave doesn't seem to get it, but nods anyway. “Okay.” Sue’s hands get busier now. They move quicker, one fondling his balls and the other more firmly pumping his shaft. It doesn’t take long for his breaths to shorten and his body to tense as orgasm approaches. Sue makes him maintain eye contact the whole time too. Every fucking moment. Dave’s hips would have lifted off the table if his feet had anything to rest upon, and his eyes are ever so slightly glazed as he comes. No defenses; he doesn't even try any of that shit. He is just so open, so very naked, Sue feels deeply lucky to be so trusted with this moment. Then, Dave’s spunk is spilled mostly over her chest. As he’s easing down from his climax, Sue kisses his cock just once more before standing up, arching her back. She wipes most of the warm come from her body with one hand, and licks it up indulgently. Another time, she might have made Dave do it, but as it is the rest of the lads are probably waiting for him. Sue takes off her knickers and uses them to wipe what’s left of the spunk away, and when most of it’s gone, she picks up her jeans again. Dave is still on the desk, still exposed and still looking dumbstruck. He’s sitting up, though, holding Sue’s shirt in both of his hands. “You alright?” she asks, trying not to seem too smug as she steps into her jeans. After a moment’s consideration, she decides to leave her knickers by Dave’s long-discarded leggings. She can hardly wear them now, after all. Dave nods. “Yeah,” he says, still a little breathless, and pushes his silver-painted fringe out of his face with one hand. “Just, that...” He trails off, giving a sheepish chuckle. “Indescribable.” Sue zips up her fly, and then fastens the button too. “I know what you mean,” she says, still basking in the feelings of elation inside of her. Her expression is kind and gentle as the looks at Dave now. “I'm going to need that, by the way.” Dave glances down at the red shirt in his hands, and for a moment, Sue thinks he’ll refuse to give it back. Then, however, he tosses to her and watches as she slips it back on. “Why would you do this for me?” he asks slowly. Sue looks at him. “Hmm?” “I just - I hardly did anything. Shouldn't I have?” Sue snickers, walking back over to the desk and kicking the chair aside. She stands, now fully clothed, between Dave’s legs. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll be extra demanding next time.” Dave blinks. “Next time?” Sue kisses his lips, and this time her tongue presses into Dave’s mouth. He is tentative at first, even after all this, but that melts away quite quickly. The kiss lasts quite a long time in the end, and by the time Sue pulls back, they’re both slightly breathless. And his eyes are still so blue. Sue takes her mobile phone from the pocket of her jeans. “Give me your number,” she says softly. “I’ll call you.”

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #dave brown #sue denim #dave brown/sue denim #rps #real person fic #future sailors

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