#although there's something he's unable to put his finger on and yup | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honoredbastard · 3 years

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such pretty tears, baby boy ♡

“does this get you off?” “MGH! y/n please-” “ah ah ah-”

✻ ˒ ໍ CHARACTERS ♡ bonten!mikey, bonten!rindou haitani and sadist gn!reader. all above the age of 20. they’re all timeskipped.

✻ ˒ ໍ CONTENT/KINKS ♡ NSFW, EDGING, TYING, OVERSTIMULATION, Y/N BEING A soft SADIST-(?) MASOCHISTS, BOTTOM, BOYS, GIVE NO REICIVE. drug/addiction mention(s). MENTIONS OF PET PLAY.

✻ ˒ ໍ A/N ♡ Y’ALL SADISTIC GN!READER HAS ME BY THE NECK-. i don’t know how to write rindou nor smut well FORGIVE ME GODS OF SMUT- it’s just a little drabble thingy ma jig that really couldn’t be kept in my drafts for too long- manga spoilers? draken will be next time? also toy/gear mentions.

:: ִֶָ MANJIRO “MIKEY” SANO 𓂅

sex with mikey was usually nice, lazy, and quiet. on other days he’d devour your body like a starving man, but in reality he was a little on the frustrated side. sexually. at times he’d be away for business purposes as he’d tell you and leave sanzu or rindou to be your bodyguard. as for rindou you appreciated his company, he didn’t talk to you much but the times you’d cook for him ( he loves your cooking, bad or not this man will devour it in full. so will ran, ran is just all smiles and eating. burnt food? doesn’t bother him. ) and/or just a small conversation was enough for you to smile. although sanzu was a different story, the top trusted bonten members and mikey all shared a loft, including you. so it didn’t take a lot of time to understand sanzu’s.... addiction.

it didn’t bother you much but whenever you came out of your shared room with mikey, he’d stare. just stare at you calmly, sword or gun in hand. sometimes he mistook you for his s/o, other times he was too high to think straight and was sprawled out on the couch. half of his body melting into the floor. you wondered how he could do that comfortably.

but that didn’t matter anymore, mikey was arriving home soon and you snuck around to grab some things around the house. a rope (thank you high sanzu for complying and ordering one), a ball gag, a small paddle that shouldn’t hurt too much, and a blindfold. all things you ordered off the internet after studying in secret for weeks.

when you were alone, lonely, and sexually frustrated you stumbled across bdsm and kinks. of course mikey had kinks and interests that he’d expressed to you which you happily indulged in them. ( his spanks hurt, but they make mikey’s hips thrusting against you afterwards 10x better. ) at the time you just believed you were a maso with a bratty side and mikey had to many kinks to list that left you both in undying pleasure.

all until you were alone all over again, sanzu drunk and on whatever drug he smoked or popped this time. you were free to do as you want. a little on the dangerous side when your boredom stretched for hours on end when sanzu was sober enough to recognize your sneaking presence. at times he’d play along and sneak up behind you ( he’s too good at this when he has his sanity tbh ) and whisper in your ear “what are we hunting this time?” “OH FUCK!!” you’d scream and on reflex threw a fist at the man, who’s arms blocked his face and your fist. “sanzu!” you groaned, heart thumping against your chest like a race horse.

“i’m sorry.” you voice strained, scared that you fucked up this last time with sanzu and he was tired of it. “it’s fine, it’s fine. i’m the one who scared you. sooo... whatcha sneakin’ about for?” he grinned, leaning closer to your face. his eyes felt like he could see your lies before you’d come up with one, so you just told the truth.... parts of it at least. “i didn’t want to wake you and i got ordered stuff that i wanted to use online and i was gonna go get it!”

sanzu’s face that was inches apart from yours leaned away, he smiled politely before trotting back to the couch. “all good, just wanted to make sure boss’ partner wasn’t meetin’ other gang members. y’know?” his body practically melted into the couch, eyes flicking between you and the t.v before getting comfortable. “you know i would never, sanzu!” you grinned, he shrugged, eyes already half-lidded.

yup, he was about as stable as a dizzy ram for a few minutes there. you sighed and marched your way to outside where two small boxes were stacked above a bigger box. those were all toys- anal beads, a small paddle, dildos. you name it, you ordered it. you could already fantasize it- mikey under your touch, tied to a chair with every. single. part of him.... exposed. your body felt a shock through it, biting your lip to remain calm but it was hard for your ideas to settle.

you could already feel a knot building in your stomach that you had to get out badly. mikey would be a couple hours right? when you arrived to your shared space with mikey, you put the boxes in the closet and searched for something of his. something that smelled of him, that made you tingle in all the right places. you found a familiar black shirt so you took it, plopped onto the bed and held it in one hand while the other went to town on yourself. you began losing your mind from the pleasure as you started edging yourself - falling into a fantasy of your own.

mikey body was wearing ropes like clothes, you were staring him down with a smug smirk. eyes slow and attentive, it made mikey twitch when he watched. toes curled when you licked your lips, biting down on your cheek to stop you from devouring him right there. no no no, you had to have your fun. you inched closer to him, eyes never leaving his.

the man unable to speak was bontens number one, his life was right there for you to hold in your palms. you were aware of this, but you treated him like he was another civilian. he, of course, allowed you to. your hands brushed his untouched cock that was dripping with precum, “excited already?” you asked, licking the pent up contents.

mikey, who was gagged, nodded quickly before your warm tongue dragged itself from his base to his already flushed tip. playing with the slit for your own amusement while he tried to buck his hips to no avail. you were aware he’d try to get himself into your mouth, lure you into his trap where he has his way with you and not the other way around.

“ah-ah-ah.” you shook a finger at him, a teasing yet playful tone, your hand wrapped itself around his veiny shaft, slowly but surely raising the speed with each bite you placed on his pale thighs. he twitched and squirmed as he neared his release till you slowed down at the peak moment. you could hear his frustration through his muffled pants and whimpers. your fingers rubbed back and forth across his slit before placing a thumb there.

you looked up at mikey who’s cheeks were redder than a tomato, you kept looking while your mouth neared his inner thighs. you placed hickeys, ran a nail from the inside his hip down his thigh which made him squirm more. his skin flinched at the odd feeling, then you did it with his cock.

that sent him into an odd feeling of pleasure that made his toes curled, breath hitch, and eyes squeeze shut. raising yourself from the ground, you sat onto his lap with open legs for taunting him. “should i remove that ballgag? hmm?” you questioned, blowing into his ear before biting at the lobe. “so sanzu can hear your pleasure as i play with you to my heart content?” you licked behind his ear, his head jerked back slightly - free rain to kiss up and down his neck.

“i’m not letting you cum till you cry for me.. slut.” you clicked in his ear, he shivered at your dominance over him.

I’M GOING TO HELL FOR THIS ONE EVEN IF IT’S SHITTY LMFAO-

:: ִֶָ RINDOU HAITANI 𓂅

sex with rindou was about a mix of everything. it was like those ‘god making me’ tiktoks you’d stumble upon every-so often from your pure boredom. at times you were allowed to go to bonten meetings and overs you weren’t. ( rindou is keen on protecting you from the heavy shit he sees too often. especially if those meetings are fucked up. ) so when you weren’t either someone who was already informed like koko or ran which rindou trusted more than anyone to watch over you, to be your bodyguard.

the problem was, rindou didn’t touch you in the places that craved being touched. your bottom half was aching to feel his hands again, to become red, fading into purple and blues. aching afterwards but getting the best aftercare, you were treated like royalty after you let rindou have his way with you. you even missed his breeding kink that would never end and left you in a shaking mess.

yet although all the offers and signals you threw at him, he brushed you off. now this was getting on your nerves. very much on your nerves. so you set up a plan: overstim and edge your boyfriend beyond compare. you’d give him the best aftercare for a price. you were going to have your way with him, of course you’ll ask for consent and walk him through what you’d do to him. but after that the power exchange was all yours.

you’d both mutually set up on a safe word and if either of you couldn’t speak properly you set up a safe signal. rindou was invested in bdsm and you too, became invested into it. which may have flipped your sadist switch. the idea was to tie rin up or to a chair. you had plenty of gear ( both pet and non pet play ) and way too many restraining gear. which excited you of all the things you could do.

although you knew one thing for sure. you were going to play with his cock till it ached and tears were burning into his cheeks while you tried your way at humiliating him. he’d done this to you many times, restrained you, made your nipples harder than him. it was everything.

when you peered out of your room you saw ran sitting at the dinner table concentrating at something. “should i pester him?” you questioned aloud in a hushed voice, “hm? oh is that you, y/n?” “yes?!” you felt like you got caught, your voice was high pitched and confused which made ran laugh. “at ease, come on over here.” following his orders like a dog, you stumbled your way over to ran awkwardly.

you stared at the cards in awe, “are you playing by yourself?” “actually yes i am! would you like to play with me?” “sure!” you sat time with a smile, yyou seemed focused but your mind was somewhere else. far far away from the ground, it all played out with rindou’s loud moans and occassional grunts as your hand slid down his length. eyes flicking to him than the thing you were working so well for - applying your mouth soon after. though rindou failed your plans for his edging, you still went to town as he filled your mouth, riding his orgasim while you kept going. the pleasure becoming painful but it felt oh-so.... good.

thanks for reading! <3 it was horrible but fun to write 10/10. rindou’s part sucked everything that i had worked on was deleted and i’m still pissed so it’s not great, thank you!

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lottiebagley · 3 years

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Traditions- Draco Malfoy

The girl can't help the scowl on her face, her eyebrows raised and her jaw set, a glare that would strike fear in even the bravest man shooting from her eyes.

"What's got your wand in a knot?" Blaise's voice questions as he drops onto the bench next to her.

"Nothing," she mutters, not bothering to pull her eyes away, he scoffs following her line of sight to see what's upsetting his friend.

Draco Malfoy had been her best friend since she was 6 years old. Her mother had been friends with Narcissa her whole life and when her family moved back to England, as their oldest child was starting Hogwarts, from their Parisian home they had moved into an equally large mansion next door the Malfoy Manor.

Being excited to see her oldest friend her mother had happily dragged her two daughters and her son along with her to the afternoon tea Narcissa had invited them too on their first full day in the new home.

The pair of friends had been overjoyed to throw their son and youngest daughter into a living room and watch them become best friends.

They had been inseparable ever since that day and even now considered each other the best thing in their lives. Not that they ever said that it was just a given, it was an unspoken fact they both knew, there was a lot of those in their friendship. She was starting to wish she plucked up the courage to say something.

"Oh I see, Parkinson is your problem," Blaise smirks. Eyes scanning the way Draco and Pansy flirted, sitting much too close together and leaning into each other's touch.

"It's not Parkinson it's Dray," she shrugs, aware her voice sounds bitter as she turns back around, rolling her eyes at the pity in her friends eyes.

Blaise Zabini considered himself vastly lucky for the things in his life and that had always included his friends. Draco Malfoy was his closest friend and he was a good friend despite his obnoxious and self centred personality. Y/N Y/L/N was like the sister he never had and he could read her like a book. That's why he was so aware of the feelings they each held for each other. He wasn't alone in being aware of course, the whole world seemed to know, the only people blind enough to register their feelings were the two people who needed to be aware of them the most. Blaise was just unlucky in that he had to listen to them both pine after each other. He was glad when Draco seemed to realise his feelings for the girl were way more than platonic but she was yet to have the same epiphany.

"And what has Draco done?" Blaise questions

"Abandoned me!" She lets out dropping her head to the wooden table, her dramatic flare definitely something she picked up from her best friend. "Draco and I have these unspoken rules, we meet in the common room and get breakfast together every day. We always have. 8:15 on the dot. And yet, when I arrive in the common room this morning I see him clambering out of the door and get here to see he's sitting with pug face," She expands, although she has no doubt that Blaise knows all of this.

"It's just one day," he counters with a mile "chin up buttercup," he grins.

"I'm fucking freezing," she complains, trying to contain the shiver threatening to take over her body.

"Not surprised," her roommate smiles sympathetically, eyeing her long sleeve top "you should have brought a jacket or a jumper at least," she reprimands gently. Her eyes flirting between the angry girl next to her and the quidditch game in front of her.

"Yeah. I should have," the girl mutters

"Where's Draco's? Doesn't he usually give you his jumper to watch quidditch in when you go wish him luck before the game," The roommate questions her friend, well aware of the tradition the pair of best friends share.

"I didn't catch him before the game," she grumbles

"With Parkinson again?" The sympathetic smile is enough to make the girl feel like she spoke about this whole situation too much

"Yup," she nods, regretting looking for Pansy in the stands immediately as she sees a jumper she recognises as Draco's hanging from the brunettes body.

She can't really explain why it hurts so much. Watching how Draco's arm holds his girlfriend close to him by her waist, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

It did though. It killed her when she would be forced to spend time with the couple, when her one on one time with her best friend felt like a rare occurrence. Maybe that's why it hurts so much this time.

She storms through the common room, past the couple who are surrounded by their friend group, the group she should be sat in, blinking back the tears in her eyes. Vaguely aware of her friends calling out to her but not stopping for a second. She can hear someone following her to her dorm, she can tell by the voice calling to her that it's Draco.

The door slams behind her as she locks it in a rush.

"Alohamora," she recognises come through the muffled wood, the lock easily moving.

"Do not come in here!" She shouts, her voice easily giving away that she's crying

"What? I can hear you're crying, darling, of course I'm going to-" she cuts of his call

"No! I'm serious Draco! Just- just leave me alone!"

"Why are you so mad at me? You never don't let me in," he reminds "I can't help you if you won't let me," he adds. His hand is pressed in a fist against the door. His head resting against it, he hates that he can hear her muffled sobs. He is angry a lot of the time but seeing the look on her face so briefly made his blood boil, ready to kill whoever hurt his best friend.

"Just fuck off back to Parkinson. Clearly you are too busy with her to care about me anymore!" She's trying to sound angry but they can both hear how hurt she is. It's when the realisation hits him. It's Wednesday. They study together ever Wednesday night in the library, they always have, and he missed it.

He lets out a sigh. Turning so his back is pressed against the door, she hears the way he sinks to sit with his back to the door and does the same. Neither of them can stop themselves from thinking, one piece of wood is all the keeps them apart.

"Love, I am so so sorry I missed out study session," he admits. He wants to scream, he can hear a whimper from her at the reminder. "I'm the worst best friend ever. I know that,"

"You're not, just a bit shitty sometimes," she returns, she hates how he always puts himself down.

She was always too forgiving, Blaise told her all the time that it was why people treated her like shit. That's why she had to tell him that she was mad.

She hadn't even meant to forgive him that night but the next day he had seemed so upset that she couldn't not give his cheek a peck and squeeze his shoulder on her way past after breakfast to assure him they were okay. She spent the whole day wondering if he had even noticed they don't eat breakfast together anymore.

She pounds on the door with a heavy hand. Leaning against it to support her intoxicated body, god there was no way she would be doing this if it wasn't for the spiked punch she had been downing for the past three hours.

The sound of a girls giggle makes her body feel cold as the door is pulled open, she stumbles into Draco's chest after the support of the door is gone, he's quick to grab her and steady her.

"Wow love, how much have you drank?" He questions gently, unable to stop the warm feeling in his chest as he pushes some hair from her face.

"No! No don't you call me love and play with my hair!" She demands, stumbling into his private dorm. Ignoring Pansy who is sat on the green leather sofa, clearly fresh from making out with Draco.

"What do you mean?" He questions, reaching out for her, heart breaking at the way she turns away.

"I'm mad at you Malfoy! And I needed you to know! I will not let you treat me like shit! I will not be too forgiving! You're a rotten best friend and I'm mad!" She shouts. He feels his heart break as he looks at the love of his life with tears in her eyes.

"Pansy you should leave," he states, looking at the sour girl on the sofa

"No. Stay. I've said all I want too," the girl cuts, before leaving, the door slamming on the way out.

Her finger pressed against the door bell tentatively. Having woken up tucked in her bed, unaware of how she actually got there she had avoided Slytherin's newest couple like the plague, sitting with her Ravenclaw friends on the train and leaving the platform as quick as possible.

But now, three days into summer break she couldn't deny how much she was missing her best friend. She wanted this whole thing behind them.

"Good morning miss y/l/n," a house elf greets, after the door is pulled open.

"Oh y/n, I didn't know you were coming over," Narcissa's familiar voice calls as she enters the hall from drawing room.

"Hey Aunty Cissa, I'm sorry for dropping by uninvited,"

"Nonsense, you're always welcome here sweetie, not that I've seen you yet since you got back," she assures, wrapping the girl in a warm hug.

"I was hoping to see Draco, we got in this silly fight and I wanted to come and apologise," I explain surprised he hasn't mentioned the fight to his mother.

"I'm sorry dear, Draco isn't spending his summer here, he's at his girlfriends, Pansy I think her name is. Did he not mention it to you it's been planned since may," she informs. Her heart drops at the news.

"No. No, he- he must have forgotten to mention it. I'll just be going then,"

"Nonsense, lets me and you have a catch up, you can tell me all about this fight so I can lecture my son for whatever stupid thing he's done," she smiles, the girl nods in agreement and allows Narcissa to lead her through to the conservatory.

Clad in a tshirt that belongs to her brother and a pair of pj shorts with cupcakes on. The girl lets out a groan as she drops back onto the bed behind her.

Reaching for the book on her bedside table, opening it and beginning to scan the page, re-reading sentences as she gets distracted in her own head, only minutes later interrupted by a knock at my door. She is surprised as none of her siblings or mum ever knock and she assumes the house elf will be preparing dinner. Perhaps it's her dad, he knocks whenever he comes in but it's rare he's not at work, maybe her mum mentioned how little she'd left her room all summer.

"Come in!" she calls, placing a book mark in her book and tossing it to the side

"Hi," the familiar voice sounds. Draco stands in front of the girl looking nervous as he closes the door behind him

"Hi," she states back, aware how scruffy she looks and not sure why she's embarrassed.

"Think we might be way overdue on a chat," he comments

"Shouldn't you be at Parkinson's?" She snaps

"I was hoping you would guess Zabini's," he comments

"Your mother told me," the girl informs, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest

"She mentioned she'd seen you,"

"Don't avoid the question,"

"Look Pansy doesn't matter right now. What matters is us. What's happened love?" He questions, moving closer

"Are you kidding me?"

"We've drifted so far apart, I don't know why, are you mad at me?"

"Yes I'm mad at you! When did you become a fucking idiot!" She shouts

"Why? Darling, what have I done?"

"You want a list! Cause there's a lot!" She's practically growling and he can't help but feel the temper rising up in his chest despite only really being mad at himself for hurting her.

"Oh go ahead!"

"You stopped waiting to go to breakfast with me! You stopped sitting with me at meals! You stopped meeting me before your quidditch games and left me to freeze cause I thought I'd be getting a jumper! You stopped coming to Wednesday night study sessions! You stopped dragging me away from our group to get butter beer when we are in Hogsmede! You stopped saving me the seat next to you! You stopped telling me anything! You spent the last night of term with her when we always spend it together! You stopped caring Draco!"

"Merlin, I got a girlfriend that doesn't mean I stopped caring about you!" He shouts back, he's walking closer to her, barely any space between them "why doesn't all that stuff matter so much?"

"Shit- Draco- I- it- I think I love you Draco and it fucking kills me to see you do all our stuff with her!" She admits, her eyes are teary as she stares at the floor, refusing to look at him.

It's instant, his heart erupts with joy as he takes her face in his hands, pulling her to him and pressing his lips on hers. She kisses back instantly, arms wrapping around his neck as he gently guided her back to press her back to the wall, hands roaming her body, scared he may never get the chance to feel it against his own again. Her fingers tugging gently on his hair.

He pulls away for breath, his heart skipping a heat at the sight of her, lips puffy and clothes dishevelled from him.

"I never stopped caring about you. I could never, ever, do that. I watched you at every meal to make sure you were eating enough. I left you a jumper at the end of your bed before every game, it was your choice not to wear them. I missed one, I'll admit it, but I went every week after and waited for you and you never came. I couldn't exactly pull you off on our own when Pansy was right there but I paid for your drink every time even though you thought it was Blaise. I always left a seat open next to me, you chose not to take it. You avoided me so much it was impossible to tell you anything and if you're talking about me not being here for summer I did tell you. I told you when I put you in bed on the last night of term, it's not my fault you got too drunk to remember. Well, I guess it is, I should have been there. I should have done and a lot, and I'm sorry,"

"Draco Malfoy I just told you I was in love with you. You wanna comment on that?"

"Darling, how can you not realise I've been in love with you my whole life?" He laughs, his lips on hers once more

"What about Pansy?" She questions, he rolls his eyes taking her hand and dragging her to lay on her bed next to him

"You're aware it's still summer right?" He questions, pulling her close to him and wrapping his arms around her, everything fits just right, feels natural.

"I'm not stupid,"

"And I'm here, when I should be spending the holiday at-"

"You guys broke up?" She questions, cringing at how excited she sounded

"Don't sound too happy about it,"

"I just told you I'm in love it's you Dray, clearly there's only one person I want you to be in a relationship with," she smiles, rolling over to face him

"There's only one person I would want to be in a relationship with," he smiles back

"I'll let Goyle know, he'll be ecstatic to hear you feel the same," she teases. He laughs rolling his eyes before pressing his lips to hers again.

Masterlist

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction

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uhgoodmoni · 3 years

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Oil Paints | MYG

Summary: t’s Yoongi’s bday!!! His girlfriend has noticed how he’s been blowing off the idea of anything happening for his birthday. Everyone will be busy. You don’t have to get him anything. He just wants to relax. Blah blah blah. Despite all that, she still wants to do something a little special. Nothing crazy because she knows he wouldn’t like that, but just a nicely set dinner, some wine, and a couple of gifts to surprise him when he gets home from work. It’s perfect, mood lighting at all! Surprise, surprise! He’s not answering his calls, worrying her to death.

(This is so late for his bday but thats okay because life happens! Thanks for reading!)

Warnings: - angst, pure angst - fluff -

Ao3 - Wattpad

How’s it going?

This was the tenth message that I had sent to Yoongi. It was also the tenth message he didn’t respond to. He was just busy. I already knew that. He told me. But I was just worried. He had a horrible week. Each day was more draining than the last, and I was sure that he wasn’t giving himself a break either. I can always tell when he’s about to hit his limit. I wish he wouldn’t hold it in so much. Especially since it was his birthday. Big Hit wouldn’t overwork him on his birthday? Would they?

Well, they probably would, except I knew that Yoongi himself was overworking himself too. He works so hard. Too hard sometimes, and the boys or I would have to remind him to take some free time. But he wanted the projects to be perfect. I was proud of him for working so hard but I just wished he would take a break when given the chance.

Today was one of those chances. Of course, he went to work early, so did I. But he said he would be working a bit late, he wouldn’t get home until around eight. It was a little disappointing to not be able to spend his birthday with him. Not that he wanted me to plan anything, but just being able to shower him with affections would be enough. Watching movies, listening to him rant about his next mixtape. That’s all I wanted for today. Instead, I had to watch his birthday live from my work desk. He seemed happier than he had been the whole week. Namjoon and Jin came in to visit him. It was refreshing to see him smile so freely. He really was happy doing this job, it just always seemed to nag at him, till he overflowed. Even the things you love can be stressful. Usually, he never got this bad, holding onto the stress and then letting it out on a song for something, but recently he hadn’t found time to work on his solos. Busy with schedules.

That’s probably the same reason Yoongi’s bday live didn’t last very long. Yoongi didn’t seem too happy to be leaving. But he had said that they had more filmings coming up, and to look forward to new works. How much work did he really have? I just couldn’t wait for him to get home. He could kick up his feet, enjoy some good alcohol and be the little spoon if he wanted.

Despite his wishes for me to do absolutely nothing for him. I had catered his favorite dinner to the house. A surprise for when he got home, I didn’t mind a late dinner. With his busy schedule he hadn’t found time to do more art. He enjoyed painting so I got him some art supplies for home. Tonight I knew he would just want to stay home and relax so I figured dinner from home and maybe a movie didn’t sound too bad. The boys had already greeted him separately from their busy schedules and now it was my turn. Waiting, waiting.

The day went by slowly. My worries were rapidly taking over my mind, however, I tried to assure myself that he was just busy. He’ll come home and the rest of the night will be okay.

Except he didn’t. It was nine and he wasn’t home. No answer to any of my calls or texts. I tried to not spam him too much, but knowing that he normally always answers, I was beginning to stress.

“I’m sorry for calling, I just am really worried about him.” I bite into the skin of my finger, tapping my foot on the floor. In front of me, the dinner sits. Cold now.

“No it’s okay, maybe he just fell asleep in the studio.” Namjoon hums through the other side of the phone. I let out a strained chuckle. That would be such a relief. Worked himself so hard he just took a nap. Namjoon is always the right person to call in these situations. He doesn’t sound as worried. He knows Yoongi a bit better than I. Maybe I should be less worried too. “Mhm, he’s not here. I’ll give him a call, but maybe he just left and is on his way home. Maybe his phone died.” Namjoon’s explanations were perfectly rational. But that didn’t change the fact that I was worried.

“Okay…” I tried to hide my tone, “I’ll let you know when he gets home.”

“Yup, and I’ll let you know if I hear from him before that.”

I sighed, “Thank you.” We said our goodbyes and hung up. Now all that was left to do was wait. But each moment was an itch in the back of my head. Something must have happened. Why else would he not respond? Why would he just disappear like that? What if there had been an accident? What if he got into an accident on the way home. There were so many possibilities. What if he got mugged. Oh god, I was starting to sound ridiculous. But maybe there had been a car accident… no.

Not allowing myself to continue thinking like that I packed up the food into containers. He can take it tomorrow for lunch. I’m not hungry anymore anyway. After I packed up the food I tidied up around the house, distracting myself with anything. The house was already clean but double-cleaning isn’t bad. He still wasn’t home after everything was cleaned up. I took to the couch, watching the door with a frown. No texts from him, and no texts from Joon.

Constant fidgeting. What was I supposed to do? Glancing at the phone, I see that it’s now ten pm. Something was not right. With nothing else to do. I called his number again.

It rang, no answer. It went to voicemail. “Yoongi where are you?” It was only the same exact thing I had been leaving in his messages before. It’s just that I knew he was having a rough time and I didn’t want to guilt-trip him. At this point though… “You’re worrying me and the others. Please just let us know you’re okay.”

I hung up, wondering if he was even receiving them. Damnit. I threw my phone over on the side, it was only making it worse. Maybe I could just go to sleep? But then if something was really wrong… What if I wasn’t there when he needed me? What if...

With the click of the door opening and closing slowly I flipped my head down the hall. I swallowed, stunned at the sight of Yoongi. Who else would it be?

He was hunched over, hood over his head. A shadowed form in the single yellow light of the hall. My body found itself immediately at his side, scanning over him for any sign of injuries. What had happened? Why was he gone so long? Except I didn’t really know how to start the conversation with him. He just stood there, dropping his bag off by the door, sliding off his shoes. Silent.

“Yoongi…” There was something. Something keeping him from talking to me. Something keeping me from really talking to him. It just felt wrong to ask. Because I already knew. Knew that he was struggling. I often tried to get him to open up to me. But he always did it in his own time. Over the course of our relationship, I had learned to let him come to me when he was ready.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, and I barely heard him, his face hidden away under a cap.

I shook my head trying to lift his chin to me, but he didn’t budge. “Yoongi why didn’t you answer my calls?” I bit my lip, obviously, he didn’t want to talk that’s why.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice trembling. “I…” his hands clenched at the zipper of his coat. My mind was spinning. I didn’t know what to say to him. I wanted to be careful. I didn’t know where to start.

“It’s okay…” I hummed, thinking. “What happened?”

He swallowed, still not looking up at me, head hanging low. His thumb traced over the corner of the zipper sow. No response. Okay. That’s okay. My hand reached, outstretched, and offered for him to take it.

His hand trembling, tentatively took hold of it. It was cold. It was cold outside after all. “Are you hurt?” Internally I rolled my eyes. Of course, he was hurt. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t a physical injury. He shook his head. “Okay.” I smiled a little, squeezing his hand softly.

“Kei…” He sighed, unable to say anything more than my name.

Although he wasn’t giving me much to respond to I wanted to assure him that it would all be okay. That he would be okay. “It’s okay…” I repeated, pulling him by his hand into an embrace. He didn’t put up any fight, his weight falling over my shoulders as I pulled him close. “You can…” My sentence was immediately cut short by the muffled sound of his sobs into the fabric at my collarbone. My heart instantly broke. His soft sobs heightening to weeping, his arms squeezing me closer and closer. His fingers clung to my back, my shirt soon soaked.

I too held him closer, rubbing softly at his nape. He didn’t let up, it was likely that he needed it. It had been coming a long time. But I wish he knew that it was okay to have come to me before. I was always here for him, and so were the others.

Something had released in him, and even after the sobs turned into lone tears he hadn’t moved from my shoulder. And although my feet were beginning to ache from standing there for so long, I didn’t mind staying there for him.

“Kei I’m so sorry.” He eventually whispered, his breaths still evening out.

“Yoongi it’s okay.” I pressed against his cheek to lift his face up to where I could see. “What happened?” My eyes stayed softened, hoping that he knew I wasn’t mad. Why would I be? I was just worried. So I told him just that. “I was just worried about you, but you’re safe here.”

He sniffled, rubbing his fingers against his dampened eyes, lashes clinging together. “I just…” His face contorted once more and he shook his head. I remained, holding his hand and soothing the words out. “I had an awful day.” He shrugged, almost giving a halfhearted laugh. “I thought maybe because it was my birthday I could ignore the pent-up shit.” He shook his head clearing his throat.

I nodded to show I was listening. He continued, “I thought that vlive would help.” He frowned, “and it did, but I was so busy I couldn’t stay on long, and…” he was starting to ramble. “And then after work, I just wanted to think for a little bit I had my phone shut off and it only made it worse. And then I realized that you were waiting for me and I felt like such a dick.” For the first time that night, he made eye contact, tears dripping down his cheeks. “And I really was a dick.” He cried, pulling me back into his arms.

“Yoongi…” “I love you.” He squeezed tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“Yoongi babe, seriously I know.” I kissed his neck where I was able to reach. “You don’t have to apologize. I just want you to tell me these things before you disappear. Yeah?” He nodded. “I want you to be safe…” it sounded silly, after all, he wasn’t a child. But bad things can happen to anyone.

He hummed in response keeping me in his clutches, “Can we stay like this?” He asked quietly, and I nodded, taking a deep breath.

“You must be tired though Yoons,” I pushed him off softly, “Why don’t we go to bed?” He took a shaky breath and nodded in agreement. He slid his jacket off and set it aside. I wanted to ask him more questions but I didn't want to pry. But had he cried while he was driving? I hoped not, hoped he hadn’t been alone either.

We walked back together, me picking up my phone on the way back. I texted Joon, knowing that by now he’d probably be worried too. Yoongi looks around, “You didn’t do anything for me right?” He seemed to be more worried that he had missed it rather than him not wanting anything.

I shrugged, “Dinner, but you can have it tomorrow.” He frowned as we left the living room and into the bedroom. “Do you want to open your gift now?” I whisper, looking at the box wrapped up. There were oil paints and special brushes. I remembered he wanted to experiment with them.

“Mhm, yeah.” He sits on the edge of the bed, taking off his cap, hair falling over his forehead. His eyes were swollen, maybe I could get him a cold spoon.

He took the box gently, sliding the silver ribbon away, and picking up the lid. I couldn’t help but smile, as he looked down on the tubes.

His lip twitched, and he set the box to the side, holding out his hand to mine. He kept his eyes on the ground as he pulled me in by my hand, hugging me close all over again. “Thank you.”

I pet the top of his head, with a soft smile, “Do you like them?”

He shook his head into my neck. “Of course I do.” His breath was hot on my skin, and his body shook into another bout of tears. Pursing my lips, I leaned into him.

Lightly teasing, “Well who would have thought paint could move you to tears.” I kissed the top of his head, and he continued crying. I knew he didn’t let it all out by the door. I was stuck standing again, caressing his back, soothing him until he calmed once more.

“I love you.” He sighed, burying his face into his hands.

My fingers brushed his hair back. “I love you too.” I finally sat down next to him, both of us lying back onto the bed. My eyes found his and my thumb brushed his cheek. “You can tell me all about it.” I wipe away a stray tear, “Or not, whatever you feel comfortable.”

He let out a hum, pulling me into his chest, much warmer now after all the previous embraces. “Okay.”

Like this? This is a drabble from my A Year of Fics with Han series found here

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all-about-seggs · 4 years

Text

The Game of Three-

Rating : 18+, Explicit

Word count : ~ 3K

Pairing : Geto Suguru x female reader x Mahito

Warnings : Mirror sex, dub con, gaslighting ( kind of, like I wanted to add it but not sure if I did it right), Fingering, Cunnilingus, degradation (slight), voyeurism, choking, threesome near the end.

A/n: When describing Suguru's place I totally went into weeb mode and used traditional Japanese terms but I tried to define them to the best of my abilities so y'all won't get confused and I put the link of their pictures in their name as well, so you can check them out if you want.

The red clouds above you parted to reveal the cerulean blue sky, painting the engawa in front of you in its hues. Giving a quick look over to the now clean surface beneath your feet, you made your way to the supply closet to put the mop back.

It's been a few uneventful months since you got employed as one of the only two maids in the entire manor. It was fairly big, atleast for just one person, and minimally decorated so it wasn't that hard to keep the entire place clean even with the two of you. The other maid was a nice old lady who showed you the way around the place and how to do what when you were just starting out.

The manor was quite, most of the time, even with your boss's guests staying over for a couple of days, the place lacked any sort of liveliness much less talking. Just a few more hours until your evening shift is over, you mused to yourself roaming around the garden to feed the pond's fish their dinner as the sun began its descent. Mindlessly, you kept looking around the area until one of the rooms caught your eye. On your right you saw the silhouette of your employer through the thin Shoji door that coverd his room.

Having finished bathing, you saw his toned mascular arms slipping out of his thin bath yukata that contrasted to the one he usually donned, his elegant movements accentuated by the growing darkness the evening provided. His daily outfit was nothing if not modest, covering his body from head to toe, leaving everything to the imagination but right now the delicious shape of his body was on full display, making it harder for you to move.

It wasn't until his form moved closer to the door, that you realised how badly your current actions could effect the job you were given. Just the thought of yourself getting fired after being considered a peeping tom made your breath quicken and not in a good way. The panic surging through your veins momentarily turned your mind blank, making you stumble until the heel of your foot slipped on one of the algae coated rocks. Clenching your butt cheeks you braced yourself for the impact but the efforts proved pointless as the considerably shallow pond's bottom made full contact with your body.

Pain aside, the cold water of the pond was what added most to your immobility until you heard footsteps heading towards you. Looking up from your seated position, the tall figure of your boss, maybe ex boss, loomed over you. He extended one elegant hand towards you.

" Are you okay.....?", His soft tone carried nothing but gentleness but being a mess, both physically and mentally, it took you sometime to process what he had said. Hesitation was clear in your actions as you meekly let him pull you up. His grip on your arm was firm and with how easily he pulled you out of the pond showed his Zephyr-like nature had a brute strength underneath. Threads of wet, black hair covering the sides of his well sculpted face, reached all the way to his mid- back. His usual heavy garb was replaced with a single, cotten yukata which were damp in every places his hair touched.

"Y/n...... Was it?, Can you stand", putting both his hands on your shoulders he peered at your face, you still for a moment, too fascinated by his slitted eyes to look away. This was the first time you two had a real conversation so you forced yourself to speak,

" Oh...umm, I'm sorry! I didn't payed attention to the slippery rocks and fell,.....but I'm okay! So..... Yeah... thank you", it was difficult to keep your voice steady, not wanting to reveal your obviously perverted BUT unintentional peeping. Yup. That's what you kep telling yourself although his secretive smile told you that your poor lie didn't make the cut.

" I see, so tell me y/n dear.....", His hands on your shoulders gripped them a little tighter as he leaned down until his face was right in front of yours, " where exactly were you paying attention to?", The question was simple, nor did it had any threatening undertones but your throat still felt clogged. It was too embarrassing, telling your boss that you were shamelessly ogling at his silhouette changing clothes. One second, two seconds, a lot of seconds passed with you playing dumb until you heard a soft sigh.

" Alright...... If you don't want to tell me, I'll let it go........for now", emphasizing the now, he took your cold hands in his warmer ones, leading you inside his room. You were still drenched, hesitating to climb on the perfectly dry floor of his room,

"It's okay..... I'll go ask for a change of clothes so you sit here, better than the outside right?," Smiling, he disappeared down the hall. The whether wasn't cold, so you didn't have to worry about getting sick but you still reeked of fish and algae, making a change of cloths a better option. You could chid yourself for it but looking at the things in his room can't be considered peeping so you turned around from your sitting position, taking in your surroundings.

His room was relatively normal, just like rest of the manor, the furnishing was minimal, a low chabudai with a few soft looking zabuton around it, a wooden cupboard, the slightly elevated tokonoma on the right side of the room had a full body sized mirror, along with a couple of other tiny decoratives. Nothing stood out with everything in place, your boss sure had simple tastes, you thought to yourself when the door slided again, when the owner of the room itself entered.

He was empty handed , earning a questioning look from you, " it's gonna take a few more minutes to find women's clothing, I hope you don't mind, for the time being....", He walked over to cupboard, producing a towel out of it.

" Use this to dry yourself", handing you the towel he kneeled beside you, he was being so nice, you hadn't expected him to be so kind but you gratefully accepted it. When you began drying your hair, you felt his eyes on yourself, pointed and unnerving. You gulped, feeling like he could see right through your head, just waiting for you to fess up on your own. You were lost in your thoughts when his voice suddenly filled the room.

"You know.....y/n, when you desire something.....", His fingers made their way to your collar, playfully stroking your neck," you should let yourself have it", his last words were nothing but a whisper against your ear as he placed himself right behind your seated form. His upper half of the robe already wet, stuck to his body, defining each and every cut of his muscles. He was somewhere between lean and mascular, his beautiful face giving him just the right amount of sensuality. You weren't naive enough to be oblivious to his suggestive tone.

It was weird to you, perplexing even as to why a clearly well to do, good looking guy would not only make a move on his maid but a maid who smelled like she just popped out of a can of tuna fish. His deep, even breaths stroked your ear as he waited for you to answer.

" I really wasn't thinking about....... 'This'", you pulled his hands wrapped around your shoulders away, to prove your point. You thought he'd be upset but his face only lit up by your rejection.

" Is this embarrassment I see y/n? Because it's not cute", he rose on his knees, looking down at you he gently added, " the mundane world would feel much better if you indulged yourself a bit more you know, even if those indulgences are only of....."

" Sexual nature", his sharp eyes slited as his lips curled into a wicked grin. Impossible to read, his actions did nothing but lure you in a honey coverd poisonous trap. It was obvious with the way his hands started massaging your arms, right where it hurt from your previous fall, blowing softly in your ear. They was all just tricks to make you fall just so he could shame you from above but you'd be damned if it didn't got you all hot and bothered. He grazed his hand across your blouse sticking to your bust, your nipples hardened with the slightest touch. The reactions your body gave were no lies and therefore couldn't be hidden. He pressed your bodies closer until you sat snugly against his torso. You closed your eyes, still unable to decide whether or not you want to let him have his way and deal with all the risks that would soon follow after.

The front of wet your shirt was completely open by now, reveling the garment underneath. Suguru's hands trailed up and down your thighs as he hiked your long skirt higher until it pooled around your hips sticking to the sides. He hooked his left hand under your left knee, doing the same with your right side, he pulled your legs apart, with the mirror in front, you and the man behind you had a full view of your damp panties.

" See that? This is what you want. To be exposed by me. Just the thought of spreading yourself open in front me have you this wet y/n...... Are you sure you weren't waiting for this moment all along?", His voice had a mix of mockery and eroticism in it, his words only adding to the fire burning in the middle of your core. With his right hand, he grabbed the thin strap of your panties at the side of your hips and tore them off until the shredded garment was left dangling on one of your hip. The air in the room, made contact with you now naked pussy but what made you shiver was the mirror in front of you. Suguru held both of your legs as far apart as possible, his face, now lacking all the warmth it had just a few minutes ago. When you tried to squeeze your eyes shut he pinched your inner thighs hard, making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

" Keep looking y/n, I'm proving it to you, just how much you're body is begging for me. And I won't stop until you've said so yourself, so keep. Your eyes. Open.," The darkness of his tone was accentuated with the look in his eyes. The fingers of his right hand made their way to your cunt, with two of them he spread your dripping lips apart, reveling the tiny swollen bud that was screaming for attention. You felt it too, the need for release spreading in your body but voicing it meant your defeat so you held your breath, letting the self assured guy behind you continue his ministrations.

" Why can't you be honest just like your needy cunt?", He cooed against your throat as he rubbed your nether lips with his digits, coating them in your slick. He didn't touch your clit, if you were going to be a brat then he's bringing his A game too. Making you beg was his only motive now, his eyes met yours, the mirror in front of you showing every nook and cranny of your privates and by now you're sure Suguru has memorised all of it. The ache between your legs was getting worse as he kept on sliding his fingers up and down your folds but never touching the rest of your sex. You knew what would make him do it but after the prolonged defiance you're not sure how to put it into words.

" Whats wrong y/n, are you ready bow to your filthy desires?, Getting off on my fingers is going to be a lot better than yours right?", Damn his rude ass remarks but they were true, the last few months have been very long and dry for you, day in and day out all work, maybe that's why you're giving in so easily, what he promised was as tantalizing as his actions, that's why you were so horny, easily aroused even.

"Right..... You're .... right, so do it.....master", you broke out, the last of your self control shredding itself as you let your voice flow out just as much as your cunt, your juices.

" Finally gave in huh?, It would've been so much easier if you'd just admitted to being my slut from the start, but oh well, this is also good", his thick fingers slipped in you with ease as he wrapped his left hand around your throat, making you look straight at the mirror. You were a mess, a totally different kind of mess you previously were, in addition to your already damp hair, your eyes were glazed with lust, the corners of your lips moist with your drool that threatened to spill out, your clothes were disheveled and tattered, you were disheveled in general and barely recognisable.

" Now look at yourself closely, how your face twists when I make you cum, how you look when you're begging to me like a real slave," his fingers picked up a brutal pace, going in and out of you relentlessly, his thumb roughly massaging your throbbing clit, sending shivers up your spine. You could clearly see your drool covered face turning hotter by the second, pussy dripping from your buliding orgasm on the tatami mats below it, your moans coming out in broken whimpers as Suguru's hand tighten around your throat, eyes rolling back for a second, you cum around his fingers hard.

" Do you see that ? How disgusting she looks right now?", Turning his gaze to the left he called out to his accomplice in crimes, " Mahito", the other man, with an amicable smile on his peculiar face stared at, not where you lied on the floor, but at your pitiful form that appeared in the mirror.

" I just dropped by to give you the clothes you asked for the young lady earlier," his talked merrily, not minding the scandalous sight in front of him one bit," but it appears that you aren't going to be needing them for a while", throwing the cloths aside he sat on your left side. Suguru kept his eyes on the mirror, loosening his hand around your neck he let you breath, mind still hazy.

" You're free to join in, if you have the time. But I'll have to warn you though, she's a persistent one, it took me a while to break her as well", Suguru smirked, pulling his fingers out of your abused hole making an exaggerated show of bringing his cum smeared fingers to your face, as if prove his victory.

" I don't mind a challenge every once in a while Geto kun, I'm not bad at 'this' myself, but to make sure, why don't you keep sitting, after all it's been a while since touched a living human", Still a bit delirious, it took you a few more seconds than usual to process the change in your situation or what he meant by living just now or touching even. The man named Mahito kneeled in between your still parted thighs, you thought it was strange that your brains last and probably rotting cells decided to focus on his eyes. They were heterochromatic, it gave his already scared face a haunting quality.

The fact that you were sandwiched between two men soon left your mind as Mahito started sucking on your still sensitive clit, your legs instinctively clamping if it's weren't for Suguru holding them apart. The man behind you weren't entirely evil though as he rubbed soothing circles on the soft inner flesh of your aching thighs, his touch only heightning the touch of the man between them.

Mahito licked your juices as if they were made to be feasted upon, slurping on them lewdly, the V of his fore and middle finger seperated your pussy for more access, he grazed his teeth lightly across your clit, fighting the urge to bit it down. You didn't have any energy at this point to put up a show of defiance so you kept moaning, the sight of the man lying flat on his stomach along with his face hidden in between your legs was urging you to cum, but the abrupt thrusting of Suguru's fingers in your mouth cut them off.

" If you're mouth is available enough to scream for just anyone who makes you cum then you truly do have the makings of a whore.", His words were nothing more than a possessive hiss against you throat, long fingers grazing your tonsils as he pushes them deeper. You gag a little, the fingers in you mouth kept you from reacting to the man who worked your pussy until it throbbed against his face.

Mahito turned his heterochromatic eyes towards your face, it seemed like someone was keeping you from your release, he sucked on your clit again adding two fingers in your streched out cunt. He moved both his tongue and digits in similar motions, causing a surge pleasure wash down your senses, with just a few quick pumps of his fingers, your juices gushed on his face as your moans get stifled by the fingers in your mouth.

" That wasn't so bad right?", Mahito pushed himself up as he asked his partner in crime, something about his tone was awfully cocky, making Suguru's face scrunched up in a haughty smirk as he added,

" Indeed, you sure know your way around the human's body Mahito kun, but maybe a little less egar to please attitude would do better. Can't let our toy think we're just here for catering to her needs now can we?", His voice loaded with provocative innuendos sounded nothing but gentle but the other man knew better.

" Hooo?, Is that a challenge for round two, then?", He met Suguru's goading with a playful and assured tone. Both of them stared each other, neither of the males backing down they both turned their eyes at your spent body, and you know even without having to look, that it was going to be a long night.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen scenario #jujutsu kaisen smut #smut #tw: dub con #jjk geto #geto suguru #jjk mahito #mahito #geto Suguru x reader #mahito x reader #lemon #Jujutsu kaisen Geto #Jujutsu kaisen mahito

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eggtoasties · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2: II. Adagio

Read Chapter 1: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

They were both called to the music room during study hall. As Kuroo walked towards Jouda-sensei, he watched as their teacher tried to cajole her into something, unable to catch their words at a distance. Arms crossed, she sent Kuroo an unimpressed stare making him respond with a nervous grin as he came to a stop.

“I was hoping to set you two up for lessons during study hall,” Jouda-sensei said, nodding between the two of them.

“No offense,” she said, quickly glancing at Kuroo, “but I’m paid to do this outside of school. Also, I don’t really have time to meet every single day—shouldn’t Daisuke be doing this? I’m sure he,” she jutted her chin towards Kuroo, “and I will both get called to other teachers and clubs during study hall so I don’t know if this’ll work out,” she huffed.

Eyebrows raised high, Kuroo said, “Wow, didn’t realize I was dead meat to you already, first chair,” resulting in a pout from Jouda-sensei and a glare from her which made him nervously snicker. He put his hands in his pockets, subtly wiping away at the clamminess of his palms.

“Aw, come on now, you know Daisuke-kun isn’t…” Jouda-sensei trailed off, trying to find the words, “the best at teaching. But,” she said brightly, “you’re the leader for a reason! And it doesn’t have to be every day—just coordinate with each other and other people to set up a rotation. I just want Kuroo-kun to be set up with good habits from the start.”

Sighing wearily and nodding, she faced Kuroo as Jouda-sensei left them.

Slouching in what he hoped was a nonchalant pose, he flashed a grin.

“So, are you gonna charge me by the minute?” Kuroo arched his brow. “Because I don’t really have the funds for that. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to sell anything on school grounds.” Readjusting his backpack straps and slightly loosening his tie, his eyes met hers quickly before finding a place over her shoulder. “But, if you don’t have time or whatever that’s--” he stumbled over his words, “I’m sure I can figure something out.”

Rolling her eyes, she loosened her school tie. “Yeah, I’m going to charge a thousand yen a minute and if you don’t pay up, I’ll have my goons knock your kneecaps in.”

“Didn’t realize being captain,” she shot him an amused grin and he bookmarked it for later, “of the orchestra came with your own henchmen. Maybe I should’ve started way earlier,” he drawled.

“Yup,” she said cheerily, popping the ‘p.’ “They do all my coursework and bully people out of their lunch money so I can add it to my secret treasury in the cave underneath the school,” she said conspiratorially. “Also,” she began, facing fully towards him. “It’s nice to meet you—I really don’t mind helping you out, it’s just that with my last year of high school things are hectic with exams and applications and I really can’t commit to everyday,” she explained.

His shoulders relaxed with a breath he didn’t know he was holding, previous tension dissipating with her explanation. Kuroo nodded and held out his hand. As she grasped it, he raised a brow at the strength of her small grip and brightly painted nails.

“I get it.” Kuroo finally said. “I’m a third year too and it’s hard enough as it is without having to teach a newbie every day,” he said, semi-fondly thinking of Lev, “—all good.”

“Alright, well,” she said, swaying on the balls of her feet, “let’s get started.”

She had him play open strings so she could assess his posture and Kuroo was not accustomed to being the center of such intense concentration. Sure, he’s served a million times in games where he knew every eye was on him, but she seemed to scrutinize every aspect of his body. The distribution of his weight on his legs, the angle of his shoulders, the slope of his wrists, finger placement, and even his face—there was something to adjust. To be fair, she did say his face looked like he was constipated, but he figured it was because one should always look serene during such a cultured activity.

A gentle tap to the shoulder, a tap to his left inner wrist, her hands guided his body as he became accustomed to the instrument. She stood slightly behind him to his side at one point and gently held his right arm and set another hand on his shoulder to show him how the bow should move. He’s used to his body—Kuroo would say he has a better understanding of what his body is capable of than most people but, gentle movements to work with a foreign object was completely new territory. She’s not teaching him how to read a volleyball midair and figure out what the best millisecond worth of contact is. She’s not grabbing his lanky arms to show him how to position for a block—this is completely different.

He figured it’s one thing to adjust to new innovative plays mid-game and another to feel so entirely helpless and clunky. Although she’s only been patient and gentle, he can’t help but feel unsure and awkward in his body as he tried to follow her instruction. Maybe, Kuroo thought to himself, I should cut Lev some slack.

“Can you feel how your arm hinges at the elbow, but the elbow itself stays still?” she asked, lightly grasping his elbow and guiding his forearm. His skin tingled at the contact through his shirt and he repressed a shiver.

He’s used to physical contact—from his teammates. High fives, hugs, and fist bumps. But from a stranger…it’s different. He’s hyper aware of the calluses of her left hand when she taps the bare skin of his wrists and although each touch is light and fleeting, a part of him wished they’d linger for a little longer.

After a while, she grabbed her instrument and mirrored his movements, showing him the angles of her body in relation to the violin and bow. He stood in awe of the confidence of her actions, drawing a rich deep sound from the strings unlike the scratchy wobbly sounds he’d been producing.

She taught him two scales, explained basic music concepts he vaguely remembered from piano lessons and before he knew it, study hall was coming to a close. Head full with new information, shoulders a little tense, he absentmindedly fixed his tie while they packed up.

“Don’t feel discouraged during class,” she said. “Everyone around you has been playing for years longer. Just keep practicing and you’ll get there.” Adjusting the books in her hand she asked, “Why’d you decide to take orchestra?”

“I needed art credit. Can’t sing, can’t draw, didn’t want to do something on the computer and I didn’t know what band music was,” he shrugged. Immediately, he internally cringed at his explanation.

“Wait, actually--” Before he could try and amend his previous statement, he’s cut off by her laugh.

“You chose well,” she said. Then leaning towards him, she dropped to a faux whisper, “orchestra’s better than band.”

Kuroo felt heat creep up the back of his neck while she laughed so he tilted his head to the side and covered it with a smirk. “I don’t know about that,” he said cockily.

She snorted which did little to calm the confusing beating of his heart and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she didn’t take the bait. Oh well, he thought, better try harder.

“You’re the one who enrolled in or-ches-tra,” she said, over enunciating the syllables. “Unless,” she sing-songed, “you feed into the stereotype that athletes are,” she pouted and batted her lashes, “stupid.”

He guffawed at her boldness but revelled in the glint in her eyes and the smug way she held her head.

“It wounds me that you would insult my intelligence without even knowing me,” he sniffed and wiped away a fake tear while she stifled a giggle. “I cannot believe my music teacher—my classmate—my captain has a bias against athletes,” he frowned and tilted his head. Pausing for a beat in contemplation, he sighed and continued lazily, “You must have been one of those kids in elementary school who always got picked last in gym.” He shrugged before delivering the final blow, “So you had no choice but to turn to music.”

He kept his face neutral as he studied her reaction. Her eyes narrowed at him and he broke out into a grin.

“It’s okay to admit it, I promise I won’t ask you to do something impossible like catch a ball or something,” he said, waving a hand placatingly. He caught the corner of her lip twitching despite the deadpan stare she tried to maintain.

“Give me your number,” she said, pulling out her phone.

“Woah, woah,” he said, dodging her attempts to force her phone in his hands. “If this was all an elaborate ruse to ask me out,” he dodged a jab to his side, “you didn’t have to get Jouda-sensei in on it too, who would’ve thought our little prodigy had it bad for the volleyball captain?”

“First of all, study hall is ending, but it seems that you were too preoccupied with trying to flirt with me to notice,” she said as Kuroo crossed his arms indignantly. Was he trying to flirt, he wondered. “Also, you’re forgetting that you’re the one who needs violin teachers,” she explained impatiently, finally getting him to accept her phone.

“Plus, if anything this just shows that you’ve been planning to confess to me for the past three years, but you were too nervous so you used your arts credit as an excuse to talk to me when everyone knows there are easier ways to get the credit,” she rambled as he punched his number in. “Also, you have a stand partner and a section leader—both of whom are not me, so I bet you,” she pointed an accusatory finger, “roped Jouda-sensei into this cozy little arrangement,” she said triumphantly.

Kuroo stuttered. “Maybe you should be a writer—what is up with your imagination?” he asked disbelievingly.

“No, no,” she said breezily, waving a hand absentmindedly, “I just figured you out, no need to feel embarrassed.”

Shifting his weight to one foot and running a hand through his hair, Kuroo’s lip quirked. “Guess you caught me,” he shrugged nonchalantly, extending their jest, “I’ve been in it for the long con, but,” he dropped a little lower to her height. “I never lose.”

Kuroo wanted to stab himself. It’s one thing, he mentally berated, to say those lines in the shower. Another thing entirely to say them to a human being? So used to provoking people just before they really got annoyed, he figured he got too comfortable. While his friends were used to his sarcastic quips and little agitations, not many people threw it right back at him. Should I apologize? Am I going to fail orchestra? Yamamoto was right, I should’ve taken sculpture I should’ve—

He was broken from his internal panic when she gently pushed his shoulder. “Well, seeing that the volleyball team has never won nationals, that seems to be a lie.”

Completely forgetting his previous anxieties, his mouth gaped open. “W-we’re definitely making it to nationals and we’re definitely going to win this year!” he nearly yelled. “A-and since when do you keep up with the volleyball team! This is more evidence that you’ve been trying to get my number for the past decade!”

“Who said anything about the past ten years!” she screeched. Kuroo watched his phone in her hand with concern as she waved her arms in disbelief. “And Yaku’s in my homeroom, idiot. He talks about the team constantly,” finally shoving his phone back to him.

Sighing a little in relief he checked his messages. “If I’m so wrong about you lusting,” she rolled her eyes so hard all he saw was white, “after me for all these years, what’s this!” he exclaimed, presenting his phone screen to her face.

It was a message from her that read: “Tetsu-chan, I think you’re so, so, so, so, sO cute!!” with several brightly colored heart emojis trailing after the message.

She immediately lunged for his phone to which he responded by smugly holding it above her head, pouting a little when she wouldn’t try and jump for it.

“Y-you planned this!” she yelled, making a move to grab at his sleeve.

“Nope,” he said languidly, smoothly side stepping her advances. “You just think I’m so, so, so, so, cute!” he said brightly as he placed his phone in his back pocket.

“I’m going to break your kneecaps in your sleep,” she grumbled.

As the bell rang and study hall ended, he sent her a little wave as he walked to his next class.

“Looking forward to it!”

Nearing his next class, he felt a short buzz in his pocket. Pulling out his phone he grinned at the texts. Nothing like riling people up on a Tuesday morning to get his blood pumping.

After he had left her standing in the music room, cheeks tinged pink and arms crossed, she sent him several texts. Many of them listed the ways she was going to abuse his kneecaps—he wasn’t quite sure why she was so fixated on them—poking fun at athlete stereotypes, and how he’d better practice every day.

They spent the day sending each other sporadic insults without heat which eventually devolved into actual questions about each other.

How did you start playing the violin? When did you start volleyball? Do you play in orchestras outside of school? What’s your position? How should I practice? What are sports practices like? What class are you in? What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite color? What do you mean you bought a chemistry set for fun?

Kuroo was in his history class when he realized he was barely paying attention to the lesson. Expecting his usual meticulous notes when he looked down at his notebook, he saw he had hardly filled half a page of information. Too preoccupied with the little thrill of excitement that came with each text, he couldn’t help but discreetly check his phone every few seconds. He tried paying closer attention to the lecture, but tapped his foot restlessly, itching to see how she responded.

The school day ended in a blur and he found himself in front of the club room door. Violin case in hand, he swung open the entrance and proudly stated, “I learned scales today.”

“Fukunaga and I took choir last year and learned scales too,” Yaku responded. “Stop looking so proud about it, it’s literally a basic,” he commented offhandedly as he put on his uniform.

Chest still puffed, Kuroo didn’t let it deter him. “I’m reading music!”

Kenma grimaced over his phone when Lev seemed impressed and Fukunaga tried to stifle his laughter behind his hand.

Pulling top from behind, Kuroo asked, “Yaku, do you know the concertmaster?”

“The, huh?”

“The first chair violinist. Our year, in class 3-B?” Kuroo clarified. “She’s about this tall,” indicating with his hand, “her favorite color’s blue and she really likes fruit tarts?”

Ignoring the questioning glances from his teammates, Kuroo waited expectedly. Yaku paused. Eyes widening in recognition he brightened.

“Yeah! She’s been in my homeroom for the past three years, she’s nice. Smart, big on music, does a bunch of music competition thingies!”

“Thingies?” Kuroo mocked. “How old are you?”

“Shut up you glorified bean pole! I don’t know what she does in her free time, why are you so interested all of a sudden?

“She’s my violin teacher! I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t a serial killer or something,” Kuroo mumbled, tying his shoes a little forcefully.

“Okay,” Yaku drawled out, not believing his teammate. “I know the theatre club always asks her to be in their pit orchestra, but man their funding really got cut over the years, I wonder how they’re going to build the set this year, I mean they’re really trying to out-do themselves and—”

He stopped when he noticed the rest of the team staring at him in varying states of confusion and disbelief.

Yaku sniffed. “I have other interests and friends outside of volleyball, thank you very much…” he said, turning his head.

“Wow,” Yamamoto said, slowly shaking his head from side to side. “Yaku-senpai doing Shakespeare or something, could you imagine?”

“Yaku-senpai would definitely play the jester or something,” Lev chimed in. “But he’s so small would the audience even be able to see him on stage?” He wondered out loud.

Facing away from his bickering teammates, Kuroo hid his flush in the collar of his warm up jacket and willed for the heat to subside. He thought about what Yaku said—not about him being secretly into theatre, which Kuroo would definitely use in the future—but about having other friends outside of volleyball.

He knew he wasn’t as shy as he used to be, thank god, but he realized he had always kept his inner circle small. Not entirely on purpose, but those he spent the most physical proximity to tended to also become close friends—thinking fondly of his parents forcing him to meet Kenma.

He remembered how he nearly threw a tantrum when his Tou-san told him they were visiting neighbors down the street and that they had a son his age that he could play with. The thought of leaving their home—which hardly felt like home at the time of their move—to meet some stranger had filled him with such trepidation he had promised he’d practice the piano harder if he could just stay home.

However, his Tou-san gently grasped him by the shoulder and made him carry the box of oranges to Kenma’s. Multiple hours of awkward stuttering and silent game playing finally bloomed into a tentative friendship with the introduction of a volleyball and Kuroo figured that now Kenma’s more of a brother than anything else.

Outside of his team and casual school acquaintances, Kuroo thinks of Bokuto. A pleasant surprise when they met at a Tokyo training camp. With Bokuto came Akaashi and with Kuroo came Kenma and Kuroo never felt the need to expand beyond his core group. But meeting her—is different.

Different in that she stumbled into his life outside the court and he’s not sure if his fingers had ever been this sweaty from texting all day. He wondered if she’s a sign that he should actively try and meet new people but he quickly discards that idea and chalks it up to serendipity.

“—hey cut it out!” Kai yelled at Yaku lunging for Lev who was holding a volleyball in one hand, “To be or not to be, will Yaku-senpai ever grow again?”

Snapped out of his musings, Kuroo raised two hands to the group, “Alright, alright,” he tried to placate while Kai held Yaku back and Yamamoto cried tears of laughter.

“Keep going, Lev!” Yamamoto egged on.

“Too sleep, perchance to dream,” Lev continued, “that Kuroo-san will finally fix that rooster’s head of his.”

Amidst the collective roar of laughter, Kuroo snatches the volleyball from Lev’s hand and throws it at him.

Head lolled back against the train window, grimacing at the pull of his worn muscles, Kuroo stretched in his seat. Next to him, Kenma absentmindedly scrolled on his phone, sporadically showing Kuroo funny tidbits to pass the time on their nightly commute back home.

“Kuroo,” Kenma said as quick fingers typed out a text, “why are you taking this orchestra credit so seriously?”

Pausing for a bit, not-so-subtly reading Kenma’s text, he responded.

“I had a lesson earlier today and it seems like,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, a disservice,” his voice rose up as a question while his brows drew together, “if I don’t give it my best shot when everyone else is so much better.”

Kuroo shrugged at Kenma’s contemplative nod.

“Anyways,” Kuroo continued, “she said thirty minutes of daily practice for a beginner will go a long way and she said we’d only really focus on the stuff for the concert so hopefully I can manage by then.”

Pausing his scrolling, Kenma looked up at Kuroo and blinked at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at Kenma, having a growing suspicion of where his friend’s thoughts were, but ignored it in favor of watching him scroll through his phone.

Other passengers shuffled around them, coming and going onto their train and Kuroo looked out the window, frowning slightly at the last remnants of sunset fading away to cool indigos.

“Y’know, Kenma, I don’t think I want to just do volleyball for the rest of my life,” Kuroo said softly, breaking the stillness between them.

“No shit,” Kenma responded instantly over the animated beeping of his game. “Your joints definitely can’t take it for the rest of your life.”

Scoffing, Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Please--I mean, I’m going to go to college and still play, but,” he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling of the train car, “I want to learn more things.”

“Yes,” Kenma said slowly, “that makes a lot of sense.”

“I like learning new things, I always want to know more and I don’t know,” he pulled at his shirt collar. “With violin--it feels like I haven’t sucked at something for a while.”

With that Kenma snorted, thinking of when Kuroo tries to play video games with him or that horrendous volleyball club promotional poster Kuroo made that yes, he did take a picture of before crumpling and throwing it in the trash.

Kenma’s game pinged as Kuroo hugged his violin case between his legs.

“Plus,” Kuroo continued, “she said music is kind of like math with the rules and the counting, and when it all comes together like pieces of a puzzle it makes your hair rise and I feel like that’s kinda like volleyball too.”

“You get goosebumps when you solve a math problem,” Kenma repeated slowly.

“Missing the point there, but yes.” Contemplating a bit he added, “More when I balance a chemical reaction, but yeah, why?”

Kenma paused his game and set it on his lap, lips twitching.

“You’re not allowed to judge me,” Kuroo complained.

“I am,” Kenma responded quickly.

“Well quit it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Kenma popped the knuckles of his fingers and unpaused his video game.

“No.”

They sat there for a beat, each thinking about the unknowns--the unknown power of this new boss guarding the princess in the tower and the unknown of the near future, where game plays are traded for textbooks and the hopeful future of featherlight, fleeting touches and sweet, sweet melodies.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro drabbles #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #kuroo imagine #kuroo fanfic #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader

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childrenofthesunny · 4 years

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Seek Him Who My Soul Loveth (1/2)

For my spin on @gayforgoodomens‘ Priest AU, for when she wondered off-hand how Crowley and Aziraphale might go about having sex for the first time, whilst simultaneously still pining/pretending they’re not breaking their vows. So, naturally, off I went to write what’s looking like will be a 6-7,000 word fic about it.

Listen, the only thing stopping me from turning this AU into a full-blown multichapter fic is (a) my knowledge of the workings of Catholicism being limited to some brief skimming of Wikipedia and what little of church I remember from when I was 7 and (b) I already have a multichapter WIP being posted, and I know I don't have the attention span to maintain two major WIPs simultaneously.

But I want to

(That being said, this is in two parts; part two should be done in a few days.)

If you prefer, you can also read this on Ao3 @ childrenofthesun.

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

"Ah, Father Crowley, there you are! So, this is where you've been hiding all evening."

"Hardly a shock to find me out here, is it?" Crowley asked with a grin, squinting up at the cherubic middle-aged man now standing beside him. Like Crowley, he was wearing pants and a short-sleeved button-up with a clerical tab, in deference to the balmy summer weather. Unlike Crowley, he was very clean and neat, and not wearing a dirt-streaked garden apron. "I've been spending all of my free time this week working on the gardens, now that Shadwell's retired and can't go berating me for trying to do the job he wasn't even doing himself. Beyond me how he even got the job in the first place."

The other man looked around fretfully, as if expecting the former groundskeeper to leap out from behind a poorly maintained bush and start yelling at him. "Oh, I know, but you mustn't be too hard on the poor fellow. The job was more to make him feel useful than anything. But Gabriel said we couldn't justify the expense anymore."

"You were too soft on him, anyway, Aziraphale," Crowley admonished, smirking at the little huff Aziraphale let out when Crowley didn't address him by his title, as he was supposed to. "Letting him set up all that nonsense meant to ward off witches. It’s certainly never stopped Anathema from coming here to borrow one of your books."

"At least it kept him busy," Aziraphale replied, sounding slightly aggrieved. His hands fluttered briefly by his wrists, as if he wanted to fiddle with the sleeves of the cassock that was his preferred style of dress. "Although it would have been nice if he had directed some of that energy towards the upkeep of the gardens. I did try to explain to him that the grounds are consecrated, and that surely would ward off evil, but in his eyes that wasn't sufficient protection."

"I know, I tried to explain it that way, too," Crowley told him cheerfully. "Apparently, the fact that I wear sunglasses all the time means I must be in league with the Devil, so he didn't think my input was particularly useful."

"Is he not aware of your eye condition?"

"I tried to tell him what photosensitivity is, but seems he's of the school of thought that science and witchcraft are basically the same thing. The tattoos probably didn't help me make my case either."

Aziraphale made a face. "Ah."

"Yup," Crowley confirmed, and Aziraphale shook himself suddenly.

"You've distracted me, you wily old thing!" he chided.

"Younger than you," Crowley pointed out, grinning impishly and making Aziraphale glower at him with impatience.

"I was about to get cross with you," Aziraphale insisted. Crowley arched an eyebrow at him.

"Oh? Whatever for?"

Aziraphale gestured at the gardening tools in Crowley's hands. "That! It's far too late for you to be working out here, still."

"Still light out," Crowley muttered, poking rebelliously at the soil with his trowel.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in exasperation. "It's summer, of course it's still light out! That doesn't change the fact that it's almost nine thirty." He shifted his weight, arms now folded. The slowly dwindling rays of sunset caught in the white-gold curls crowning Aziraphale's head, making them glow as if from within.

Lord, but did he look like an angel.

Crowley hissed in displeasure as he begrudgingly got to his feet, the taut muscles of his back creaking in protest. Aziraphale gave him a reproving look.

"'S not like it's going to weed itself," Crowley grumbled in a half-hearted final objection, wincing again. Now that he was standing, the ache in his back was really starting to settle in. He tried to straighten to his full height, which would give him a few inches over Aziraphale, but found that his spine would only comfortably let him stand with their eyes level.

All right, maybe he had been overdoing it a bit over the past few days.

Aziraphale pursed his lips. "Be that as it may, you mustn't work like this to the detriment of your own wellbeing. It will still be here in the morning. This is your home, Crowley, it isn't as if you'll be forced to leave if you don't turn the church grounds into Kew Gardens overnight."

"S'pose I would've been kicked out ages ago, if that were the case," Crowley acquiesced, rubbing some of the dirt on his hands onto his gardening apron. "Y'know, when I first came here, I was really excited to see the gardens," he admitted. "I'd heard how lovely they were, especially for such a small church. Was a bit of shock when I saw the state they were in."

What he didn't add was that, given Shadwell's constant undermining of any covert attempt he made to coax the gardens back to life, Crowley would have long ago gone and grovelled to the diocese to grant him a new assignment elsewhere. That is, had he not had a compelling reason to want to stay in Tadfield.

A middle-aged, cherubic man-shaped reason, to be specific.

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to restore them to their former glory, now," Aziraphale said kindly. "There's no need for you to rush anything."

Crowley hummed in agreement, and went to bend down to pick up his tools, unable to stifle a groan as he did so. Aziraphale was quick to forestall the movement with a hand to Crowley's chest, his usual hesitance to so much as brush shoulders with Crowley vanishing under his concern. Allow me, he probably said, but Crowley couldn't hear him over the sudden rush of blood to his ears, pounding through his rapidly beating heart in a way that Aziraphale would surely be able to feel beneath his fingers.

Aziraphale said something else that Crowley's brain refused to parse, too focused on trying to keep the other priest from realising the effect the simple touch was having on him. He managed to nod, not sure what he was agreeing to, but was rather proud of himself for managing not to whimper when Aziraphale's hand pulled away.

"We'll just put these away first," Aziraphale told him, Crowley's brain function apparently restored now that they were no longer touching. Crowley dutifully trailed after him to the shed, putting his tools back in their rightful place. He grunted slightly when he reached to the small of his back to undo the ties of his garden apron, the motion tugging at the aching muscles of his shoulders. The sound alerted Aziraphale, who immediately fussed over him again, lifting the strap holding the apron around his neck for Crowley despite his protests. Crowley scowled as Aziraphale smiled serenely at him and hung the apron on its hook by the door. Secretly, however, he was glad that the dim, fading light meant that Aziraphale wouldn't be able to see that the tips of Crowley's ears had gone a hot, flaming red.

Aziraphale took the lead again as they both headed for the rectory they shared, both toeing off their shoes and leaving them in the rack by the door once they'd crossed the threshold.

"I imagine you'd want to shower before we begin," Aziraphale said as they headed into the living room. He picked up a book he'd left beside the sofa and took a seat, already thumbing it open. "Take your time, I'll be waiting here for you when you're done."

Crowley glanced down at the dirt packed under his nails, felt the sweaty stick of his shirt against his back, and couldn't help but agree. Whatever Aziraphale had had him agree to, it probably would be best if he cleaned himself up first. Not to mention it would give him a little bit of time to collect his thoughts, to slow the still traitorously fast gallop of his heart.

He headed upstairs, grabbed a change of clothes from his room, and did his best not to run to the bathroom, knowing Aziraphale would be able to hear the creak of the floorboards overhead if he did.

Once enshrined in the privacy of the bathroom, shower turned on and old pipes groaning laboriously as they slowly heated, Crowley sagged against the door and let out a long, shaky breath.

"Get a grip," he muttered to himself, flicking on the ancient exhaust fan. It rattled slowly to life, letting out the occasional whining protest, as the unbalanced blades scraped against the inside of the casing. "You're acting like… like he's about to lay down rose petals for you and take you to bed, when you know he couldn't find his way out of the closet if you gave him a torch and a map. And even if he could… he wouldn't do anything about it. You've both got your vows." He tore off his clothes and left them in a sullen pile on the floor, opening the shower door. Steam billowed out and he stepped inside quickly before too much could escape. He stood directly under the scalding spray, heedless of how his pale skin went instantly pink. His face was likely beyond sun-kissed, too, given the time he'd spent in the garden.

There wasn't much he could do about that, but at the very least he could wash the sweat from his skin, furiously scrub the dirt out from under his nails. Whatever the evening had in store for him, at least he'd be clean.

He fruitlessly tried again to piece together what Aziraphale had asked him, out in the garden. Now, though, naked and surrounded on all sides by steam, his mind only seemed to want to offer him lewd suggestions, each one more highly improbable than the last. Unbidden, he imagined Aziraphale walking into the bathroom to find out what was taking Crowley so long, then disrobing and entering the shower with Crowley, hot water cascading over them both as Aziraphale pressed him up against the tiles–

With a burst of self-disgust, Crowley realised that certain areas of his body were getting very excited indeed by such thoughts, and were responding in a way that was meant to encourage him to keep thinking those exact thoughts as he took himself in hand. He'd done it a few times in the past, now, even though it invariably left him riddled with guilt and shame. Somehow, it seemed even more egregious than usual to have a self-loathing-fuelled wank over the man he worked with, when said man was patiently awaiting his return downstairs, none the wiser.

With a sigh, he turned off the heat, standing under the cold spray for several seconds to try and keep his body from getting any funny ideas, before cutting off the water completely. Skin still pink in places, but at the very least clean, he towelled himself off, squeezing as much water out of his hair as he could. A glance in the mirror told him that he'd definitely been out in the sun too long. If he was very lucky, the skin wouldn't start peeling off over the next few days, but, given how his pale skin had historically reacted to overexposure to the sun, he wasn't exactly holding out hope. He applied some moisturiser to his face to at least draw out some of the heat, and resolved to stop being so forgetful about putting on sunscreen when he needed to.

He put on his clothes quickly, only realising once he was done that he'd gone on complete autopilot, and dressed himself as if preparing for his clerical duties, collar and all. He felt a little stupid, but knew he'd feel even stupider if he went and changed again, so he decided to leave everything as it was, and headed back downstairs. Hopefully, wearing something symbolic of the Church would help remind his unruly body, mind, and heart how they were all supposed to be behaving.

"Ready, then?" Aziraphale asked when he came back into the living room, glancing quickly at the page number before closing the book and setting it aside.

"Yep," Crowley answered, still having no idea what he'd agreed to.

"We can use my bed," Aziraphale decided. "Now that I've had a moment to think about it, the couch really is far too narrow to give us enough space to work with comfortably."

"What?" Crowley squeaked.

Aziraphale gave him an odd look. "I suppose we could do this here, with you laid out on the floor, if you'd prefer. I know that some people like a more solid surface beneath them for this sort of thing," he said, apparently unaware that he was giving Crowley a heart attack.

"You… you want me on the floor?" he managed.

Aziraphale shrugged. "Personally, I would have thought the bed would be more comfortable, but the choice is yours. This is to your benefit, after all."

"…My benefit?" Crowley asked faintly, apparently unable to do much more than echo Aziraphale's words back at him.

"Honestly, Crowley," Aziraphale replied huffily. Crowley managed to find space amidst his confusion to feel the little thrill he always did whenever Aziraphale dropped the honorific when referring to him by name. "The massage? That we discussed not twenty minutes ago, were you even listening?"

"Massage?" Crowley couldn't help but parrot. Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes. Massage. For your back. That I offered to you. Because you've been overworking yourself in the garden all week and can barely stand upright."

"Oh. Right," Crowley managed, nodding like a dashboard bobblehead on an unpaved country road. "That massage. 'Course."

"Honestly," Aziraphale huffed again, but far fonder in tone this time. "So. Out here, or on the bed?" "Bed," Crowley said before he could stop himself.

Aziraphale nodded, standing. "Shall we, then?"

Crowley nodded mutely, and when Aziraphale began to lead them both upstairs, he followed.

#good omens #good omens fic #crowley #aziraphale #crowley/aziraphale #priest au #priest aziraphale #priest crowley #sunny writes

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maybedefinitely404 · 3 years

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Day 17: Royality

@tsshipmonth2020 (does this still count so late?)

What’s that? Ly creating content? Unbelievable. (I have writer’s block, leave me alooone /j)

Thanks to @marshymoop for suggestions and encouragment when making this bad boy! Love ya <3

Day 17 - Everyone has heterochromia, one eye is your natural color the other is your soulmate’s natural color. Once you meet all eyes return to natural color.

Content warnings: food/drink mention, alcohol, mentions of hangover, vampires, referring to drinking blood as “eating”, non-explicit blood drinking, being chased.

Word count: 6.9k

THE CITY OF DEWMORE WELCOMES YOU

Patton tapped his fingers on the steering wheel excitedly, nearly vibrating as he passed the weathered sign. Beyond it, beckoning him forward, stood a forest more densely packed and darker than he’d ever had the pleasure of exploring, the achingly tall pine trees swaying minutely in the breeze, their tips barely visible through the blanket of fog. Just imagining what could be held within those depths made his leg bounce; forgotten, moss-drenched stone paths, broken stumps of fallen trees that hadn’t made a sound upon impact, patches of mushrooms scattered in the shadows, and whispering creeks. It was the perfect way to spend his spring break, and one his photography teacher had wholeheartedly encouraged him to take. If he hadn’t had so many midterms to mark, Patton was almost sure the man would have tried to join him.

Almost an anxious tic at this point, he ran his free hand over the photography bag in his passenger seat, as if to make sure it hadn’t disappeared in the three minutes since he’d last checked. The thing was his prized possession, given to him by the very same photography professor at his university. It had been the elder’s own, before he got his newest camera, and gifted the whole set to his favorite (but don’t tell the others) students. It was full of perfectly kept lenses and two miniature tripods, extra batteries and memory cards, speedlights, and most importantly, the camera tucked safely into the biggest pouch. It was more expensive than Patton would ever have dreamt to buy, so it was truly a gift he’d never forget. Now it was up to him to finally take some shots worthy of the thing.

The forests continued to grow denser and thicker until, in almost a shocking snap, they disappeared to reveal a quaint city that he hadn’t quite expected. The first few buildings he passed looked like they may have stood there for hundreds of years, weather worn and faded. Their signs were either scratched to nothingness or blaringly new, shining metal names standing out against an ancient backdrop. He was looking for a motel, figuring there had to be one, even in a town of less than two thousand people. His backup plan was to just sleep in his car. He’d brought his sleeping back and extra blankets, so it wasn’t a huge concern, but he’d still prefer a bed. But whenever he’d tried finding anything online, he’d come up blank.

A fog still covered the town, and though it created an air of calm and mystery that Patton was itching to capture, he also knew the area was surrounded by towering mountains that he also desired so badly. To his right, the buildings stopped abruptly, revealing a grey beach, all rocks and no sand, criss crossed with logs, opening to a dark lake. The other side wasn’t visible through the mist.

The further he drove, he realized the buildings weren’t improving in their modernity, just giving way to more and more old infrastructure. One stood out, a grocery store, it’s lights piercing through the evening dim. Patton didn’t get a look inside before he passed, once again surrounded antique houses and shops, a post office to his left, and a tavern just across from that. A sign above the door read “Vacancy” in peeling white letters, and that was all the enticing Patton needed to pull his car into the gravel parking lot in front of the building. There was only one other vehicle there, a matte red pickup truck that he parked next to, and what appeared to only be three more parking spots. From the high placed windows, a soft orange light bled, and a round of raucous laughter filtered through the cracked open door. Patton smiled. The photographer inside him was going to have a field day here.

He stepped up the concrete steps and ruffled his hair with one hand so it covered his eye, heaving a sigh in hopes to calm his nervous butterflies, and pulled the door open.

All at once, the chatter inside died, and Patton internally shrank as every face in the tavern turned to look at the newcomer. There was a moment of tense silence as he tried his best for a smile and met the gaze of the men scrutinizing him, drinks forgotten on high wooden tables, jubilance halted. Patton waited with baited breath, for someone to do something, why were they all just staring, when a voice spoke from behind the bar.

“Don’t worry about them, sweetheart. We don’t get a lot of new people around here.”

And the lull was broken as suddenly as it started, the men now ignoring him in favor of joking over mugs of fizzing ale. Patton swallowed thickly and turned to the voice, shoving his quivering hands into his pockets and shaking his head again to assure the curls were safely covering his eye. As usual.

The man standing before him, leaning on the bar with an easy smile, was almost enough to take Patton’s breath away. If he were a religious man, he’d go so far as to call him heavenly. Eyes as dark as the depths of the surrounding forests, auburn hair pushed back from his face in what he could only think to describe as an intentional bedhead. His skin was too flawless, teeth just a couple shades too white, everything perfect in a way that was almost…

Patton couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What can I get you, newbie?”

“Uhm-” Patton took a cleansing breath and sat at one of the barstools, all of them empty seeing as the crowd seemed more drawn to the tables in the center of the room, “I don’t come to bars that often. I don’t know.”

The bartender hummed, pushing up his already rolled up white sleeves and giving Patton a once over, almost investigating him. “You drink?”

“I… I guess.”

“Been on the road for a while, tired?”

“Do I look that exhausted?” Patton breathed a laugh, suddenly aching to pop his spine. He’d been driving since before dawn for the past three days, barely hunkering down for a decent sleep before he was off again. He’d been really excited to get here, plus he didn’t want to waste more of his meager break driving.

“I got just what you need, darling.” With a wink, the bartender straightened up and pulled down a series of bottles, cracking his knuckles with flourish before measuring them into a silver canister. “So what brings you to Dewmore?”

“I’m a photographer,” Patton said, “Or, a photography student. Down in Florida.”

The man whistled as he shoveled ice cubes into the mix, “Long drive for some pictures.”

“I’m… dedicated,” Patton laughed, scratching at his neck nervously. “My prof recommended it, said it might be a nice place to spend my break.”

“I assume you’re looking for a place to stay then, as well?” He plopped a cap on the canister and began to shake it above his shoulder, grinning widely, “These guys are always just like, ‘Gimme a beer’ this, ‘Gimme a beer’ that. It’s great to actually make fun drinks again.” With hands flying too fast for Patton to process, he grabbed a glass, popped the lid of the shaker, and poured the deep orange drink, tossing on a green sprig and sliding the drink over. “Enjoy.”

Patton took a cautious sip of the drink and had to fight not to sigh, the refreshing taste a welcome relief after three days of gas station Gatorade and hotel sink water. He could barely taste any alcohol, more focused on the ice cold sweet tartness at the back of his tongue. The bartender looked pleased, huffing a satisfied laugh and beginning to put away his bottles. He was taking another sip, satisfied with the backdrop of joyous chatter and clinking glasses, when he remembered why he’d come in.

“Yes, I am. Uhm, looking for a place to stay, that is.”

The bartender looked at him over his shoulder, “We haven’t had visitors in… a while, at least. You’ve pretty much got your pick of the rooms.”

“Do you have anything facing the water?” He took another sip, the photo possibilities already flowing through his mind. One through the window, just far back enough to catch the flow of the curtains and the chipped wood of the window ledge, a monochromatic lakeshore in the bottom third, a barely visible mountain looming ahead…

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Let me just finish this up, and I’ll get you on the ledger.”

“Patton.” He downed the rest of the drink and rested his elbow on the counter, chin in his palm, an easy smile playing on his lips.

“Hm?”

“My name’s Patton.”

“I’m Roman.” Tossing the towel over his shoulder, Roman gave him another wink before disappearing into the back room, coming back moments later with a thick black book. He was already thumbing through the pages, finally landing on the one he wanted, and spun a pen between his fingers.

“What’s your last name, sweetheart?”

Patton spelled it out for him, and was surprised when the man clapped the book shut after the final letter. “That’s all you need?”

“Yup.”

“No… ID, or anything?” It was at that moment when it occurred to Patton that, although he was legal, his baby face often prompted bouncers and servers back home to ask for identification. Roman hadn’t even blinked before serving him.

“Got anything to hide?”

“Uhm… no, I-”

“Good enough for me. It’s not like we’re a high traffic tourist spot. I don’t think we’ve had anyone take a room in, like, two years, and who knows how many before that. Frankly, I wouldn’t care if you were on the run for murder. Don’t kill me, and we’re solid.”

Patton blanched, unable to tell if the man was being sarcastic. Finally his expression cracked into a smirk and he brandished a key towards Patton, dangling it by the ring. “I’m messing with you. I mean, don’t kill me, that’s legit. Here you go, cutie. Let me know if you need anything.”

With that, he sashayed away with a tray of beers (when on Earth had he filled those?), and the men whooped loudly, startling Patton.

“Easy, boys,” Roman purred, beginning to round the tables, and Patton hopped off the bar stool to get his things from his car. He couldn’t wait to pass out in bed with the knowledge that he could sleep in however late he wanted.

-0-0-0-

But apparently sleep didn’t have the same ideas as him, because even after he was in comfortable clothes and tucked into the covers, he continued to toss and turn. Maybe it was the concept of being alone in a strange town, or the full moon shining through the thin curtains, or just plain excitement, but he suddenly felt wider awake then he had since he started this trip.

There was a soft rattling somewhere across the room and, with begrudging acceptance that he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, fumbled his glasses on to search for the offending sound. With a grumble, he threw off the blankets and padded across the room to the window and tossed back the curtains, giving the moon a scalding glare for shining so darn brightly. It was the window, fitted loosely in its frame, being shook by the gentle wind that was causing the noise. Patton gave it an experimental tug, followed by a more forceful yank, and found it didn’t budge down at all. Instead, it continued to rattle mockingly, in what sounded almost like whispered giggles as he crossed his arms across his chest.

Fine. He turned his attention to the scenic view before him, letting out a minute shudder as a small gust of wind blew through his thin pajama shirt. Moonlit waves crashed against the rocky shore, tossing up silver spray against the dark backdrop of the forest. Patton took a breath, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace just staring at the silent town, the stone spires rising above the forest-

Wait, what?

Patton blinked sharply a couple times, leaning forward until his nose bumped the window and squinting through the glass. Those… things... definitely looked like manmade objects- the shape made it impossible for them to be natural- but you’d think he’d remember something that looked like a castle directly outside his window. In fact, he’d spent a significant amount of time upon first entering the room just admiring the view, and a castle one hundred percent would have been on his radar. Oh, if the thing was abandoned, imagine the photo opportunities, and even if it wasn’t he could totally just get some of the outside-

Yeah, there was no way he was sleeping now.

Before he’d even processed what he was doing, he’d slipped out of his pajamas and hurriedly pulled on the outfit he’d laid out on the desk chair, because there was no way he was digging through his suitcase to scrounge out more clothes. He threw a beige sweater over his white shirt, however, remembering the chill the night had brought and, after he’d adequate tucked them into his slacks, he threw his camera bag over his shoulder and trotted down the stairs.

Unsurprisingly, the first floor tavern was empty of all customers, overhead lights traded for softer electric lamps on the walls and the illuminated sign above the bar, where Roman was wiping down the counter, seemingly unbothered by the late hour.

“Can’t sleep, sweetheart?” The bartender called out without turning around, tossing his rag across the counter and into a full soapy bucket behind the bar.

“Uh, yeah, something like that,” Patton responded, shaking his bangs so they covered his eye. “I think I’m just too excited to start getting shots.”

“Mmm, you and me both.” He waggled his eyebrows and pulled a bottle of what looked like whiskey off the shelf. “What’s your poison?”

Patton snorted but shook his head, patting his camera bag, “I want to go out, and it’s probably not smart to drink before going out in a strange town at night.”

Roman shrugged before pouring himself a shot and downing it in one smooth motion.

“You’re allowed to drink on the job?”

The bartender hummed, replacing the bottle and locking the cabinet presumably for the night, “Once my tavern is empty, I consider myself off the clock. And I’m my own boss, so I hereby give myself the night off. I have a coffee machine in the back room, one of those Keurigs, if you want something fancy. Hasn’t been used in ages, but I’m sure if you wanted something, I-”

“No, it’s okay. Really.” Patton ducked his head and messed with his shirt, making sure the white collar stood above the neck of his sweater. He made his way over to the bar and took the same stool as before, leaning on the counter as Roman dumped out the dirty cleaning water into the sink. The clock above the bar, barely illuminated enough to see, revealed it was just after midnight. “Are there any old structures, like churches or anything, in the forest?”

Roman tilted his head, giving Patton a look over his shoulder he couldn’t quite understand.

“There’s nothing there besides wolves and ticks, sweetheart,” he said slowly with an almost condescending smile, “Why? Hoping the little town in the middle of nowhere has a mystery?” He rinsed out the bucket and placed it in the cabinet under the sink.

Patton shrugged, scratching at his temple, “I saw something outside of my window.”

“Like a tree?” The rag was rinsed as well and draped over the faucet.

“No, definitely not.” He tried not to feel too offended that Roman was clearly teasing him, but he was certain what he’d seen hadn’t been a tree. They were too tall, too angular, and too symmetrically placed for that.

“Pattycake, I grew up hunting with my dad and partying in those woods, and I would know if something were there.”

“Are you sure?” Patton implored, “There’s definitely something man made, could it be, like, an old castle, or something?”

There was a moment of silence between the two as Roman continued to look at Patton like he was crazy, the barest hints of an impish grin tugging at his lips, before he sucked in a sharp breath; as if he realized something.

On a dime, Roman’s expression contorted into one of anger, eyes alight with fury as he leaned into Patton’s space. As he spoke, his voice almost reverberated, like a choir speaking in unison.

“There is nothing in those woods, Patton. Understand? Don’t go wandering into places you don’t belong, or you won’t like what you find.”

Patton reared back from the forceful words, hand coming up subconsciously to readjust the hair on his face. Roman leaned just a tad closer, growling out a warning, “Got it, sweetheart?” The electric lamps on the walls, once creating such a homey, soft environment, suddenly flickered and Patton flinched, whipping around to face the large room as it seemed to strobe under the malfunctioning lights. Goosebumps spread across his arms as the flashing grew faster and his hand clamped over the back of his neck when a shiver raced up his spine.

“What’s going on? Why are-”

And then the lights went out completely, an eerie quiet settling over the tavern. Roman was silent. Was he even still in the room? Could he have left so quickly? The only sound in the empty room were Patton’s shaky breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, as he fought down a scream. He wasn’t a fan of the dark.

A single street light barely shone through the window, too dim to even light up the tables near the glass, and Patton turned to focus on it. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In… out… in… out-

A silhouette appeared in the window.

The lights were back to their original gleam before he could even open his mouth to scream, filling the room with a dull hum as if nothing had even happened. Blinking rapidly, Patton took a calming breath (it’s just old lights, it’s just old lights, relax) and swiveled back in his chair to find that Roman was smiling at him innocently, cleaning out a glass with a rag.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

“Didn’t you see that?” Patton asked incredulously.

“See what?” The bartender placed the glass into the last space in a row of them, giving Patton that same condescending grin as before.

Patton sighed and lifted his glasses to rub his eyes tiredly, shaking his head. “I think travelling for so long has me seeing things.” Careful as ever, in the same fashion he’d so masterfully perfected in elementary school, he shook his head to cover his eye- his stupid, left, ‘soulmate’ eye- before removing his hands and letting his glasses fall back into place.

Other kids won’t like it, sweetie. I don’t think the teachers will either.

I know you can’t help it, my love. If I could take this burden from you, I would. But this is yours to handle until… well, you know.

I don’t know why, Patton. You’ll find them someday. And then you’ll understand.

“Why do you do your hair like that?”

“Hmm?” Patton blinked.

Roman smirked, leaning casually on the counter in front of Patton, “Covering half of your face like that. You shouldn’t, you know. You’re a stunner.” With that, he reached forward, intent on moving that hair out of his face.

No.

“NO!” Patton yelled, stumbling off the barstool just as Roman’s hand made contact with his face. He ducked his head, roughly scraping his hair back in place with shaking hands, but the damage was done. A single cute guy compliments him and he forgets the habit he’s built up for years? How could he be so stupid-

“Everything alright? I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetheart.”

Was it possible he hadn’t seen it? Maybe Patton had moved fast enough, maybe the bartender had been too surprised to get a good look, maybe everything was fine. Roman didn’t seem horrified, or at all perturbed. Instead, he just looked… worried.

Either way, after that reaction, Patton was aching to be left alone to stew in his embarrassment. His rented room held nothing for him that he wanted, and sleep felt farther than ever, so his only choice was outside. The promises of a maybe-crumbling ancient building, illuminated by a full moon, were far more tempting than anything inside had to offer.

“Actually,” Patton said nervously, “A coffee would be great.”

Roman squinted at him, biting on the inside of his cheek before huffing a breathy laugh through his nose. “Alright, darling. Give me just a second to dust off the Keurig.”

The moment he disappeared behind the door to the backroom, Patton tightened his hold on the camera bag and sprinted from the tavern, into the grips of the cool night.

-0-0-0-

What would he say when he got back to the tavern? Would Roman make him leave the inn? Had he crossed a line he hadn’t known existed; would he have to cut his trip early because he couldn’t help his curiosity? Was bothering the only innkeeper in town really the smartest decision to make?

All wonderful questions that Patton wished he’d considered before running.

But if he did have to leave, and if this was his last night in this delightful and equally terrifying little town, he was going to make the most of it. At least, that’s what he’d thought he would do as he’d left the few city lights behind and treading deeper into the forest. He had a flashlight with him, thank goodness, so he wasn’t completely screwed, and he’d already gotten a few great shots. He stayed in the areas that the full moon could still shine through the trees, and some of the clouds had rolled away, so he was having the time of his life working with silhouettes against the star filled sky (thanks to the little to no light pollution Dewmore offered).

The more prominent thought in his mind, however, were the spires steadily growing closer above the treeline. He couldn’t understand what Roman had been talking about. How could anyone living in this town not see whatever he was walking towards?

(Admittedly, curiosity was also a huge reason he was chasing something he’d been warned to avoid. He’d never been that great at impulse control.)

It had to be nearly two in the morning when he came to an incline; a steep path constructed entirely of rocks fist-sized and larger. At the top, Patton could just barely see what looked to be the back of the castle, and he bounced slightly on his toes in excitement. He couldn’t tell from this distance the state it was in, or if it was possible anyone still lived there, but dang it if he wasn’t going to give it a go before he left. He’d walked all this way, after all.

The first few steps up the hill were the loudest thing he’d heard since he’d started his midnight adventure, and he cringed as they dropped away under his feet, knocking against each other as they fell to the ground.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Patton spun around, his flashlight slipping out of his hands. It rolled down between the rocks, casting split second light beams in every direction as it bounced towards the source of the voice, and stopped dead in the middle between the two of them. It settled on an indent created by Patton’s steps, aimed at the newcomer. Patton breathed a sigh of relief.

“Roman, goodness gracious! You scared the bejesus out of me,” Patton laid a hand on his chest and let out a huge gust of air. Roman didn’t move, and for the first time he noticed the absolute glare the bartender was giving him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uhm… sorry about the… leaving. Thing. Are you mad?”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Well, apparently they weren’t going to talk about it. “Oh- I’m sorry, is this private property? I didn’t see any signs, I’m- Wait, but look, Roman! See, that’s what I was talking-”

“You. Shouldn’t. Be. Here.”

Patton blinked at the harshness in his words, taken aback. How was this the same easy going bartender that he’d met earlier tonight? Whatever was beyond this hill, though, Roman obviously wasn’t going to allow Patton to see. Maybe it was dangerous, or something? Either way, he couldn’t deny his disappointment. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I’ll leave-”

“How did you get here?”

“I… um, walked?”

“No!” Roman hissed, finally stepping forward and plucking up the flashlight from the ground, “You shouldn’t be able to see the castle, or go near it, how the hell did you get here?!”

Before he could answer, the other man froze, whipping around as if he’d heard a noise from his left. And then Patton blinked, and Roman was in front of him, pulling him back down to solid ground. He dragged him by the arm to a fallen tree that was propped up against its own splintered stump, leaving it angled just a few feet off the ground.

“How did you- You were just over there, how-”

“Get down!”

“What?”

“Get. Down!” Roman shoved his shoulders and Patton had no choice but to collapse, blending into a pile of ferns beneath the bend of the tree. “Take off the backpack, put it in front of you. It blends in better than you do.” He yanked off the dark green camera bag as he spoke, situating it in front of Patton. “Don’t move, don’t make a sound, don’t fucking breathe, Patton, I swear.” The flashlight flicked off and thumped to the ground as Roman walked away, leaving him standing in the pale moonlight. Patton debated reaching for the flashlight, but that would mean exposing himself from the foliage he was tucked in and under, and Roman had seemed really scared.

There was a rustle in the underbrush in front of Roman, and the photographer shoved his fist into his mouth before he could gasp.

“Roman, it’s so nice to see you back home. It’s been far too long.”

“It’s been hardly a month, mother.”

The woman that emerged from the tree’s shadows wore a black cloak, nearly blending into the forest around her as the fabric swirled hypnotically by her ankles with each step. Silver embroidery made up the tight bodice and strung together the corset front, meeting at the bottom in an intricate knot and trailing almost down to the earth in two strands. How her intricate updo had stayed intact through a walk in the forest, Patton couldn’t understand.

However, if this was Roman’s mother, he did understand where he got his looks. The only word that came to his mind was ethereal; all smooth pale skin, those same impossibly dark eyes, red lips curved in a constant, easy smile. She was beautiful, but she was terrifying, and Patton backed up more into his fern hiding spot.

She lifted her flared sleeves towards Roman as she stepped into the moonlit opening and he pulled her hands towards himself, kissing both of her cheeks before releasing her.

“A month is too long, darling,” She purred, letting the back of her hand trail down his cheek. “I don’t understand why you find it necessary to stay amongst those humans when you could be with your family.”

“Because I want more than just… lounging, and talking with my brothers. Do you have to bring this up every time I visit?” Despite his slightly aggravated tone, he leaned into her touch.

“When you’re older, you’ll look back at these choices with embarrassment and resentment.”

“Maybe.”

“I just don’t want you to blame me when you do.”

“I could never, I promise.”

She sighed heavily, “They miss you, Roman. We all do.”

“Which is why I’m here, mom. You act as if I’ve been gone a millenia.”

“Worrying is what a mother does best,” She smiled fondly, tapping his cheek with her finger, “You’re home, darling. Drop the glamor? It must be tiring keeping it up constantly.”

There was a moment of hesitation, where Patton couldn’t help but tense up along with the man in front of him. Then the air shifted, like it had been holding a breath it could finally let out, and though there was nothing different that Patton could see from Roman’s back, a certain jolt of fear hit him out of nowhere.

“There’s my boy.” The woman drew him in for a proper hug, one hand reaching around his back to rest on his head. She pressed a kiss to his hair when he wrapped his arms around her in turn. Suddenly her nose wrinkled and she pulled away, holding his shoulders at arm’s length. “Dearest, you smell like humans again.”

Roman chuckled, but there was a new quiver in his voice. “The only flaw in being surrounded by them so often. Let me change, and I’ll come meet you for dinner.”

She didn’t move, eyes narrowing as she watched his face. “No… it’s not you.”

“What? What else could it possibly-”

“There’s a human here.” Her voice was utterly calm, but she pushed Roman behind her resolutely. “There must be.”

“What?!”

A low growl filled the air, and it took Patton a few moments to realize the sound was originating from her. She stepped past Roman, her dress flowing soundlessly along with her as she glared into the woods around them.

Her eyes flashed red.

Once again, Patton shoved his fist into his mouth to hide a scream. That same alien jolt of fear returned as she moved closer to him, seemingly zeroing in on his location.

“Mother, come now. You’re being silly. Humans can't even come near here, remember? You made sure of that yourself!”

Patton tore his eyes away from the advancing woman and his breath caught in his throat. Roman had followed his mother, trying to placate her gently with a hand on her arm, and in doing so, had turned towards Patton’s hiding spot.

When Patton opened his eyes shortly after being born, he was taken away from his mother, despite his parent’s strong objections and his wails. He was returned hours later, much to their relief. On his birth certificate, his right eye was labeled blue. His left eye, the side usually taken by the natural color of his soulmate’s, was labeled ‘Defective’.

When he was set to start school at six years old, his mother sat him down on his bed and taught him how to properly cover his left eye with his hair. They’d grown it out enough to do so. Patton had asked why it was necessary, and subsequently learned the truth that not all people were as accepting and loving as his parents.

When he was ten, he returned home from school crying. He dropped into his mother’s arms and she held him until his sobs turned to sniffles, until he could explain between sharp breaths that a bully at school had revealed Patton’s eye while trying to force him into a fight, and… well, his classmates hadn’t taken it well. Those who weren’t downright afraid of him, refused to eat or sit with him anymore. But it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t help it!

His eye was labeled ‘Defective’, because never before had the doctor’s seen a child born with a red eye. Not the pale color that came with pinkeye, or an allergic reaction, but the iris itself was such a bold, blood red color that it had left the team scrambling for any record of such an incident. They were left with more questions than answers. But the world had yet to understand how soulmates worked in the first place, so they chalked it up to another universal mystery.

Every day for as long as he could remember, Patton had stared into a mirror first thing in the morning, greeted with calm, airy blue on one side, and fiery, almost electric red on the other.

So it was jarring to see such a sight, yet reversed, on another person. But as Roman tugged again on his mother’s arm, there was no denying it; the man’s own color was a gleaming ruby, and the other was Patton’s very own blue.

“Mother, look,” Roman blurted out, scooping up the discarded flashlight from the forest floor, “This is a human tool. I’m sure this is what you’re smelling.”

She ripped the device from his hand, shaking it in his face, “That is still far too close to home, Roman! Humans have been here, and I guarantee they are still nearby.”

“And you don’t know how many there are, Mom!” Roman insisted, taking her hands. “It doesn’t matter how they got here, or why they did,” A slow grin spread across his face, highlighting a pair of glinting fangs, “Why don’t you gather the family, and we can find them together? I can’t even remember the last time I really ate.”

The woman was satiated by this answer, though she still cast the forest cautious looks. “Stay put, Roman. We’ll be back shortly.” Her nose wrinkled again. “Along with a change of clothes for you.”

And then she was gone, the only remaining trace being the tiny cloud of dust she’d left behind. Roman was calm for a moment, making sure she was really gone, before his demeanor dropped. The cocky smirk was gone, and he no longer held the confidence he’d had, either as a bartender or in the presence of his mother.

“We don’t have a lot of time, c’mon! Let’s go!” He crouched before the log, extending his hand to Patton.

“What the hell are you?!” Patton shrieked. Interesting, that those were the first words from his jumble of thoughts that came out.

“Oh, come on, do you really need to ask? I’m pretty sure you already know!”

And yeah, Patton was pretty sure he knew. He wasn’t an idiot. He’d had a teen Twilight phase, so of course the obvious answer was there. It just… it wasn’t possible. His brain was scrambling for any kind of other solution, anything that made sense, but it all kept circling to the same answer.

The cute bartender at the inn was a vampire.

…

Okay then.

Next problem.

“I… yeah. I think I got it.”

“Good! Now let’s go!” Roman grabbed Patton’s hand and yanked, effectively pulling him from his hiding place and nearly tearing the arm from it’s socket. Patton stumbled from the sudden movement and tripped on his camera bag, yelping as he crashed into Roman’s chest.

The vampire’s hands instantly wrapped around his waist, steadying him as he found his footing.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m all good, I just-”

Roman was much taller than he’d thought; that was the initial thought that came to mind as he looked up at the man holding him. The second was, well, the fact that his jaw had dropped open upon seeing Patton’s eyes, and for the first time since they’d met, the guy was completely speechless.

Patton felt his left eye began to tingle as they shifted into its own natural color. He ignored it.

“You really didn’t see it? At the bar?” Patton whispered.

“No, you moved too fast,” Roman murmured, bringing a hand up to Patton’s cheek. “You… you’re my-”

He must have sensed something, or heard something that was too quiet for Patton’s ears, because his head whipped towards the castle.

“We need to go. Now.” Roman intertwined their fingers and pulled him into a run towards the town.

“Wait, no! My bag!” He tugged hard to try and get his hand free, but he was truly no match for Roman.

“Not important right now, sweetheart!”

Without the aid of his flashlight, and enveloped by the darkness of the forest, Patton was totally blind, relying only on Roman’s grip to keep him from falling. Branches hit his face and roots reached up to trip him, but every time he stumbled, the hand tightened and pulled him back upright.

A howl cut through the air.

“What now, werewolves?!” Patton shrieked.

“Don’t be ridiculous, werewolves aren’t real!” Roman scoffed, “They’re normal wolves! What, you think just because we’re vampires, we’re unable to have pets?”

“Is this really a conversation we should be having at this exact moment?!” Patton shot back.

“You’re right, you’re right, okay.”

The howls were growing closer, and it was clear by Roman’s increased pace that this wasn’t about to be a friendly reunion.

“Can we outrun them?!”

“I take it you’ve never met a wolf!”

Patton looked up at him desperately, already struggling to keep up the conversation and keep up with Roman.

“I thought vampires had… like, super speed!”

“I wouldn’t be able to go for long, especially carrying you. Jump!”

Patton leapt blindly, feeling the side of a fallen log scrape the toes of his shoes. The landing was rough, sparks of pain shooting up his legs, but he was quickly pulled back upright.

“I don’t have the energy! I haven’t eaten in months!”

There were more yowls, definitely closer this time, followed by the sound of multiple animals fighting, barely louder than a voice shouting (presumably) at the racket. Whether it was the wolves having a spat, or a prey animal that had gotten in the way of the hunt, Patton didn’t know. It drew out a small whimper from him either way.

He didn’t want to be next.

“Do you trust me?” Roman suddenly gasped, holding his hand firmer.

“What?!”

“Do. You. Trust. Me?!”

Patton didn’t exactly think he had a choice right now. His feet were aching, his lungs were burning, and he wasn’t sure he could run another minute without his legs giving out. “I- Yeah! Sure!”

“Good enough,” Roman grunted bitterly, screeching to a halt, and using his grip on the other’s arm to stop him too. Before Patton could even bring himself to complain, or scream at him, or just incoherently yell, the vampire was drawing him to his chest, puppeting his arms so they were around his shoulders.

“Hold on.”

Obediently, Patton tightened the grip. “Why-”

And then there was a sharp pain in his neck, and his eyes widened. The sting almost immediately morphed into a pleasant warmth, the distant howling being replaced by a faint humming, the buzzing of his own mind calming, becoming numb until the only thought in his head was Roman, Roman, Roman-

He could feel Roman’s hand on his head, not restricting it, but cupping the back of it so he could lean against him as he stared up at the night sky, the full moon, and the slow blurring of the tops of the pine trees. His other arm was wrapped around his waist tightly, holding him up, and Patton was beyond grateful for the support as his legs began to turn to jelly. The last thing Patton felt was the vampire scooping up his legs and his head being cradled against the soft material of Roman’s shirt.

Then everything went dark.

-0-0-0-

Patton woke up slowly, squinting against the harsh sunlight streaming through his window. He dropped an arm across his eyes lazily, letting out a low groan at his pounding headache. There were voices downstairs in the tavern, and what sounded like dishes clanging, and he wondered if somehow this place was also a restaurant. How on earth could anybody run an establishment like that? It’s like the place never slept-

A wave of nausea pooled in his gut due to the speed of which he sat up but that wasn’t important, not right now. He flung his blankets back and… oh. He was dressed in his pajamas. Last he could remember, in the woods, running with Roman, he’d been in day clothes, in the sweater and shirt that was now draped on a chair across the room. His camera bag was... on the desk. His shoes were by the door, dirt free.

He raised his finger tips to his neck, expecting to feel a raised scab, or scar, any sign that he’d been bitten. There was nothing.

He swung his legs over the sides of the beds and immediately shut his eyes, fighting off an explosion of dizziness induced sparks that shot across his vision. It sure felt as if he’d lost some blood. As much as he didn’t want to believe he had a hangover from one drink, that could also be an explanation. He’d always been a bit of a lightweight.

A dream. Was it all just… a dream?

A feeling of disappointment washed over him and he sighed, running his hands up through his hair. Something soft snagged on his fingers and he carefully detangled it from the curls, pulling it out curiously. He blinked at the fern leaf between his finger tips. That definitely hadn’t happened between his car, the tavern, or the room... So-

He sucked in a breath sharply as his eyes locked with the mirror’s reflection in front of him, every thought coming to a halt.

Because staring back, for the first time ever, were two perfectly blue eyes.

I have a bunch of world building ideas that weren’t included in this fic, shoot me an ask if you have any lore questions!

General taglist:

@max-is-tired

@private-snippers

@joylessnightsky

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #royality #roman sanders #patton sanders #vampire au #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides au #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 4 years

Text

what i knew

summary: sometimes curiosity doesn’t kill the cat, it kills relationships; and in the worse cases it kills people

word count: 2,612 reading time aprox: 10 mins

warnings: character death (not any of the protagonists), angst, and loss/grievance (this is the first time i had to use one of these, wow)

a/n: this is my celebration post for reaching 2k followers here, so i decided to celebrate the way i know best: through angst! thank you all very much for reading

masterlist

Coming home to Spencer was the sanctuary I needed after facing the trials and tribulations that the day demanded me to endure. He was the soothing whisper in my ear as I embarked on the uphill of life while a blazing storm was afire. He became the chief of defense whenever malicious thoughts infiltrated the purest parts of my mind.

He became my security blanket. A blanket I would comfortably drape over my bare skin at the times where I needed him most.

But nothing could’ve prepared me for the single night that I couldn’t restore what he lost.

I flipped through the pages of Jane Austen’s most profound work, my eyes trailing over every word with intent and curiosity. Although in my peripheral view, Spencer was a few steps away as he was also engrossed in a book. But with my attentive instinct, I noticed the subtle flicker of eyes from the pages of the novel to the screen of his cellphone on the arm of the chair he sat in.

Taking a moment to linger at the sight, his fingers had been more fidgety, the lines etched on his forehead were creased, and the intense stare he held as he read could’ve burned holes through the pages. A thought was obviously crossing his mind--well maybe a few million were.

“Spence? Are you well?” I tucked my book neatly into my lap, giving Spencer my full undivided attention.

“Yeah--uh I’m just checking up on my mom--yeah” He nodded unconvincingly, letting his eyes stray away from the page he’s been stuck on for the entire time, checking his phone once again.

“Really?” I hummed, raising my eyebrows at his vague response.

He nodded in response, momentarily raising his eyebrows at me while he nodded apprehensively. “Yup” He assured.

“You know Reid…” I began, tracing the quilted fabric that was stitched onto the arm of my chair. “I may not be a profiler but you’ve been on that same page for approximately six minutes now, your knuckles are twitching which is usually a clear indication of anxiety, and your eyes have been more interested on whatever is plastered on your phone rather than the words in your book, but again I’m no profiler” I declared my observations eloquently, only looking up at him in satisfaction as fascination crossed his eyes.

He shook his head, humming in amusement as he set his book on the side table. “Okay Sherlock” He relinquished his facade, gesturing at me to continue.

“So Spencer Reid, are you going to tell me what’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours or am I going to have to pick it out of you?”

He laughed at my threat casually before a more melancholy expression crossed his visage. He exhaled a heavy breath, taking one last glance at the device beside him before meeting my inquisitive stare. “I wasn’t--um--lying about it being my mom…” His voice trailed off with a choked breath in his esophagus. “Uh, I got into sorts with her and we just got into his argument about sending her into another study and--gosh Y/N she told me no more studies an-and that got me angry because it seems like she’s ready to...ready to…” He breathed, taking a longing pause as his face contorted into anguish.

“Hey...you don’t have to--if you don’t want to say it, you don’t need to” I reassured, standing up from where I was planted, skipping over to where he was situated. I kneeled before the chair, resting my head at the side of his knee. His hands made its way to the tangled mess of my hair, soothingly running his fingers through the tousled locks.

I watched as his chest heaved and fell at a rhythmic beat, signifying the evident weight that was present on his shoulders. “It just feels like all the hope--all the effort--I’ve put into making sure she’s lived a happy life was futile” He vulnerably confessed, his finger running down the side of my cheek, caressing it gracefully while he spoke. “I just...I don’t know what or how to process that” He tapped on the apple of my cheek, gesturing for me to climb on next to him.

“Maybe I’m just overthinking-”

“No Spencer, you absolutely have the right to worry about this. She’s your mother after all” I climbed into his open arms, settling my legs over his laps as I nudged my head into the crook of his shoulder. I relished in his scent, basking in the soft warmth that naturally radiated from him. “If..if you don’t mind me asking, why do you keep checking your phone?” I tentatively ran my fingers across the side of his abdomen, tracing mollifying circles to ease his tense muscles.

He carelessly tossed the device next to me, cautious about hitting me by accident. I grabbed the phone out of the small crevice it landed in, scrolling through the various voice messages Diana had sent Spencer in the last couple hours.

“YOU UNGRATEFUL CHILD”

“I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN”

“I WISH I NEVER HAD YO-”

My heart jumped at the heinous comments; the venom spilling over her words came as a surprise. Never would I have thought that anything of this sort would inhabit Diana’s mind--well despite it not being there most of the time.

“I--Spencer, I don’t even know how to--”

“She’s in the middle of a break--or at least that’s how she was when I left her” He paused, shifting his eyes to the frosted window in our living room, taking small glances at the phone in my hand. “But those messages were from a few hours ago” He sighed, pulling me into his side, laying his chin on my head as he breathed into my hair.

“Well…” I pulled his chin down gently to level our eyes, pressing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I know that your mother loves you with all her heart...the same way that I love you with all of mine...” I brushed a few stray hairs away from his face, letting my palm fall down to cup his cheek. “Maybe even more. I know it hurts now Spence--and I’m asking you not to hide from me because I’m here--but in the small time I got to know your mother, I know that she has a big heart like her son and I’ve felt the same unconditional love that can radiate from it” I finished, pulling him down in a sweet kiss.

I felt his lips curl into a timid smile, breathing out a hefty exhale before blessing the top of my head with a grateful kiss. “Thank you Y/N” He hummed, descending down to my shoulder, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck. “Really...thank you”

It had been a tiring week to say the least. Ever since Diana left those voice messages on Spencer’s phone, he’s been leaving the device at home, sometimes even forgetting to charge it. I hummed a continuous melody, letting the tune of Hamilton buzz through the living room as I cleaned. I leaned over the couch to fluff up the pillows, folding the blankets that were thrown carelessly on the floor.

An exasperated huff escaped my lips as I spotted the neglected phone tucked in between the cushions of the couch. Pulling the phone out of the crevice, I inspected the power button, soon discovering that the battery was indeed dead.

I skipped to the kitchen counter, plugging the phone into the charging port before shuffling back to the living space. Although not even a second later, the ringtone sounded while various notifications blared out simultaneously.

I cringed, plugging my ears in the hopes that the horrendous symphony of chimes stopped. After a few minutes had passed, the screen turned on displaying an array of text messages, emails, and voicemails. But the one particular message caught my eye despite the cesspool of notifications.

‘Bennington Sanitarium: 13 new voicemails’

The cold bit at my fingers as I held the phone, like it was a forbidden relic.The eeriness ran up my veins at an unfathomable pace, sending a warning shock to my shoulder. I instinctively dropped the device on the marble counter, shaking my head out of disorientation.

Why would the sanitarium--?

Should I even be seeing this?

No--I shouldn’t, everything’s okay, this isn’t my business. But what if--no.

I walked away from the counter, ignoring the lingering feeling of curiosity scratching at the back of my neck. I grumbled, trying to hide the impulsive grimace forming on my face.

Don’t do it Y/N

I took in an intermittent breath, turning around to stare at the tempting device sprawled out on the counter

But what if something--?

No...No?

I bit the inside of my cheek, letting the battle between my conscience and my temptation ensue.

Well...Spencer should be home soon

Maybe just a little look…

My curiosity camouflaged the growing guilt in my stomach, rushing off to take the phone in my hands once again. I felt like Eve in the garden, the serpent drawing me in by manipulating my eagerness to know. I knew once I made that decision, there was no way back. At that time I was completely fine with those odds--I comfortably accepted the unknown.

But that was it…

It was what I didn’t know, that should’ve stayed unknown.

I crossed a boundary that I was too ignorant to recognize

“Good Afternoon Dr. Spencer Reid, this is the Bennington Sanitarium, I am Charlene, Diana’s nurse, and...I--there was--uh--” The woman choked in between her words, making the pit in my stomach grow. “There was an incident regarding your mother and I have to inform you, sir, that--”

I swiftly pressed the pause button on the voicemail, feeling an overcoming wave of fear wash over me. My hands shook at my sides, frustrated at the underlying curiosity that still nipped at me.

Was it even human of me to snoop through Spencer’s privacy?

Was it merciful for me to deliver a message that might cause pain?

Moral dilemmas flooded my head once again, but I pushed that aside, unable to deal with the raging battle occurring in my conscience. With a shaky breath and a quick glance at the door, my finger hovered over the screen and let the message play out.

“The staff of Bennington Sanitarium regret to inform you that Diana Reid has...passed away at 9am this morning. She had suffered a stroke from an insurmountable of stress and passed peacefully in her bed. I understand that this is a difficult time but we need you to…”

The cold had infiltrated my entire body, guilt weaving itself in between the tendons of my heart. A nauseating ring permeated my ears, but nothing could’ve been the cause of the emitting sound. My entire body melted into weakness, my limbs turning into jello.

“No…” I whispered.

This wasn’t real...I...Spencer

Spencer...oh my god Spencer--what is he going to--

I covered my mouth as a distinguished sob of anguish left my lips. Tears fell freely from my eyes for Spencer, for Diana who had been a second mother to me, to the regret of my actions. I held myself up on the counter, the deafening ring still not leaving my ears. It bounced around my headspace like a punishment, like it was torturing me for venturing into an abyss I never should’ve been tempted to explore.

Shock invaded every corner of my body, making me feel lightheaded.

She was…

She was gone…

Diana...she’s…

Spencer never got to say goodbye

This call was his goodbye and I took that from him.

I took away his goodbye.

Another sob reverberated through the room. It was heavy and choked like it was a place where solace could never thrive. Pain was evident in the guttural emission, challenging the strings that kept the heart open to hope.

Although the sob hadn’t left my lips…

It left the mouth of a mournful brunette who stood in the frame of the door, unbeknownst to the news he would soon uncover.

It seemed that I failed to hear the cheery footsteps of his while he entered the apartment, too entranced by my own shock that still pounded against my chest. My mouth hung agape as the feeling intensified by the mere appearance of Spencer himself.

His autumn colored eyes dulled into a sully grey, his prominent shoulders hung with a thousand weights attached to him, but it was the way he looked at me that pulled me apart the most. His eyes longed for comfort, but the anger beneath them told another tale.

My breath had been caught in my esophagus, unable to form any incoherent words.

I--I didn’t know what to say

“S...Sp....” I tried my hardest to push the words off of my tongue but my fear decided against it.

He shook his head at me in defeat.

It was hopeless

His knees threatened to buckle before him. I noticed this and took an instinctive step towards him, but when he looked up to meet my concerned gaze, I knew there was nothing I could do.

A glassy film casted over his doleful eyes, the corners of his lips twitching into a frown as his head ran a thousand miles per hour. His breaths were heavy and intermittent, only coming out of his lungs as choked air.

“I…” He brokenly whispered. “She--I--no…” His voice cracked, giving away the scornful weight that he harbored inside him. “No no no no no no...no she can’t--no…” He grabbed fistfuls of his hair, pacing back and forth while he looked to the sky for solutions.

“No no no no no mom no please” He cried, crashing onto the floor as his knees finally gave out. Deep rooted cries racked his chest as he pulled his knees to him. “No no no no no” He continued to repeat like a haunting mantra. “Y/N no, please tell me it's not…” He begged.

“Spencer...I’m so sorr--”

“NO! NO! DON’T--” He heaved, lifting his face from his knees to send daggers my way. “Don’t...don’t fucking lie to me y/n” His voice softened, sounding like the broken boy that hid behind that brain of his. “Please...please just tell me she’s okay? Y/N? Please…” He begged once again. “I never...I didn’t tell her I loved her. You...you took that away from me...”

My own cries mixed in with his as I resentfully shook my head. “I’m sorry Spencer…” I meekly whispered, bringing myself onto the floor across from him. “I wish that I could do something---I really wish I can---please let me help, let me do anyth--”

Before I could finish my sentence, Spencer stood up and ran for the door, leaving all his belongings behind. I called out his name--I cried out for his presence.

I was desperate.

Desperate to console him, desperate to love him again and to make him feel safe, but I was mostly desperate to selfishly know if he was going to come back.

What have I done?

I was powerless

What have I DONE?

Left on the floor like broken porcelain that was swept under the rug, I let the broken fragments pool around me. I wailed for his return, but deep down I knew that he would never want to go back to a place that reminded him of a tremendous loss.

It was then that I realized that what I knew would plague the entirety of my existence.

It was what I knew, that I wish I had never come know.

hope you enjoyed <3

taglist: @rexorangecouny @honeymilk-4 @linthebinbag @howdycharlie

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prettybiching · 3 years

Note

well since requests are open for John King 👀👀 (i’ve never actually requested anything so don’t judge) what if the reader is somehow introduced to him through one of his co-anchors (who knows the reader has a crush bc of all that glorious election coverage), and we see what would happen maybe on a first date?? it doesn’t have to be smutty but i certainly wouldn’t be opposed..i love your writing btw!!! blessing us in this (small) John King fandom

Dessert

Pairing: John King x fem! reader Warning: 18+ mature scenes (oral f receiving), swear words and sexual innuendoes. Viewer’s discretion is advised, you’re responsible for your media consumption. Word Count: 2.5k words Note: I changed it up a bit, hope you don’t mind :)

Anderson Cooper, ever the stoic news anchor loved to play matchmaker for his friends. It was a trait Andy had managed to rub off on him, but he enjoyed it more than he'd like to admit.

Y/N had involuntarily become the latest victim of his match-making tendencies.

She didn't mean to babble out her newfound infatuation with his colleague, John King, to him but Anderson and Andy had managed to get her drunk, absolutely wasted. Before she could stop herself, she was slipping out all the unholy thoughts she'd been dreaming since election week.

The teasing that followed was relentless. It didn't help that Y/N had preliminarily promised to accompany Anderson to DC. She just hoped she wouldn't have to face the silver fox himself.

-----

She knew something was terribly wrong the moment she saw the wicked smile etched on Anderson's face.

"Uhm, why are you smiling like that?" she asked, her eyes wide with trepidation as Anderson let himself into her hotel room.

"You, young lady," he trailed, heading straight for the unpacked suitcase that laid on her bed, "have a date tonight."

Her mouth hung wide open in disbelief and horror, "What?!"

"Yup," he answered, not bothering to turn around, ruffling the contents of her luggage, every so often examining the articles of clothing.

"I don't wanna go on a date," she whined, throwing her head back. Dragging her feet to where Anderson stood, making an absolute wreck of her belongings, she plopped herself on the bed, tugging out her lips and staring at him with pleading eyes.

At last, he halted at his action, clumsily throwing the blouse he had in his hands in the briefcase before turning towards her. "Trust me, you'll make me the godfather of your future children after tonight."

"T-tonight?" she sputtered, jolting out of bed. There was no way she was going on that date now, she didn't even know who he was!

"Anderson, I love you, but a heads up would've been nice," she sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

Anderson stroked his chin for a second, in thought before scrunching his face, "Nope, where's the fun in that?"

Y/N gave him a deadpan look, slumping her shoulders. She knew sooner or later, she'd have to accept defeat. There was no way she was winning against Anderson Cooper. "Will, you at least tell me who it is?"

He smirked, mischief was written all across his face as he shook his head, "You already know what I'm about to say."

She groaned, taking a few steps towards him before clumsily planting her forehead on his shoulder. "You're the worst!"

Wrapping his arms around her figure, he let out a laugh, his body vibrating beneath her. "You know you love me."

"No, I don't."

------

After Y/N's long foreseen defeat, Anderson dragged her to go shopping with him stating that her limited clothing 'just wouldn't do'. She went along without a fight, admitting that she didn't pack anything she could wear on a date.

Despite going along with her best friend's words and having full faith in his match-making abilities, she wasn't sure how much of a success the night would be. Not when her mind could only fixate on the image of a certain news anchor between her thighs.

However, she didn't want her silly fantasies to get in the way of her actual love life and with the help of Anderson's picky taste, decided on a dress for the evening. Although the black half-slit bodycon wasn't something she'd usually wear, she felt confident in it, and that was all that mattered.

As she was on her way to the outdoor French restaurant near Washington Harbour that her date had picked for the night. She knew the restaurant was fancy from all the reviews she'd seen online.

As the uber driver drove closer and closer to the destination, Y/N was a bundle of nerve. She didn't know what to expect, hell, she knew nothing about him at all aside from Anderson's confidence that the night would go well.

The car came to a screeching halt in front of the park-like restaurant, fairy lights and intertwining vines of leaves decorating the area. 'What's the worst that could happen?" she let out a sharp breath, trying to calm her nerves as she exited the vehicle.

She made her way to the reception, her eyes advertently scanning her surroundings to spot a familiar face. "Hi, my name's Y/N L/N, I believe I have a reservation?"

The receptionist gave her a practised smile before leading her to her table, "right this way, Ms L/N."

Y/N followed her lead, her steps being clumsy from the knot of nerves forming in her stomach and her heart stopped when she saw the man standing up as she made her way towards him. John fucking King.

She was going to kill Anderson.

Unable to move a muscle, she froze at her feet as he approached her. He had a crisp perfectly fitted black suit on and a warm smile on his lips that had her knees buckling. She just hoped she didn't look like a lunatic in front of him.

"You okay there, Y/N?" he mused, flashing his teeth.

Crossing her arms across her chest, she opened her mouth, trying to form a coherent thought. "I- yes, I'm okay," she stammered, squirming under John's unmoving gaze.

She had met John a couple of times in the past, none of the interactions was long enough to be considered memorable. She was always afraid of making a fool out of herself. Seemed like she was compensating for all of those in one go.

John didn't look convinced but didn't push her on it any further. Instead, he extended his elbow towards her with a quirk of his brow, "shall we?"

Awkwardly she interlocked her arms with his and followed his lead, all the while making sure she didn't fall face-first onto the floor.

They stopped in front of a table in the back corner of the patio; mostly hidden away from plain sight. Y/N smiled, knowing Anderson must've told him that she preferred such setting.

John quickly untangled their arms, preventing her from moving further as he pulled out a chair, gesturing towards her to sit. She flashed him a grateful smile, overwhelmed by all of his efforts. Was she ever going to stop smiling in front of him?

Once she was seated, John took his place across from her, fixing his suit jacket as he did. She tried her best to divert her gaze from his hands, but it seemed near impossible. She was sure she'd faint before the night came to an end.

Finishing his task, he turned to face her, his entire focus towards her. Clearing her throat, Y/N shifted at her spot. "how awfully did Anderson bully you into this?" she chuckled, trying to soothe her nerves.

Squinting his eyes, he tilted his head sideways before shrugging, "he didn't bully me at all really. He merely put forth the suggestion, and I was down."

Pursing her lips, she paused for a moment before shaking her head, laughing. It wasn't until she took in John's earnest expression did she realise he wasn't joking. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "However," he began, a slight remnant smile gracing his lips as he wriggled his index finger at Y/N, "I did tell Anderson to tell you, but he was insistent, and you remain oblivious about our date."

Her mouth hung open in disbelief as she leaned back into her chair, muttering through gritted teeth, "I'll kill him."

John let out a laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he insisted, "Please don't. I have much to thank him for."

She tilted her head towards him in confusion, waiting for him to continue.

John averted his gaze, a nervous chuckle erupting from his throat, "I might've never had the courage to ask you out without his meddling."

She blinked, her eyes widening slightly at the revelation. "Y-you wanted to ask me out?" she sputtered, leaning forward.

As if her words had flicked a switch in him, he straightened his back, the earlier nervousness was long gone as a smug smile took over his features. "Also..." he trailed, interlocking his hands on the table.

"He may or may not have accidentally spilt that you have a crush on me?"

"No." "Yes." "No, shut up."

"Truce?" he quirked his brow, reaching his hand across the table for hers. Y/N eyed his hand warily before letting out a sigh and giving in. "Fine."

"I can't believe you two were basically conspiring against me this whole time," she whined, her lips tugging out into a pout.

She should've known Anderson wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut for too long. However, she couldn't believe her own eyes that the gorgeous man in front of her reciprocated her feelings.

Unaware of the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, John cooed squeezing her hand, "but wouldn't you say it's come to a favourable conclusion?"

She couldn't deny that everything had worked out in her favour. Without her best friend's meddling, she would've never gotten the courage to admit her feelings for John.

Once the pout disappeared from her face, John reclined back into his chair, her hand still in his. "Now, how about we get started with some wine?"

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

The date was a definite success, she would say. After the initial awkward passed, with some alcohol in her system, she found herself more comfortable around John. Not to mention that he was effortlessly the most charming man she'd ever encountered.

She had tried to restrain herself from staring at him when he made the smallest movement, but it was near impossible. She was completely enamoured by him. All the flirty smiles, casual brushing of their legs, teasing touches and lingering glances didn't help either. He knew what he was doing, that smug bastard.

John was in the middle of an amusing story, something that had happened at work that week. Y/N wished she could say she was listening, but she was far more distracted by his hands that he sporadically used as he spoke.

"Y/N? he called her name, snapping her back to reality.

"Yes?" she answered, tugging in her bottom lip as she stared at him with round eyes.

He smirked, having caught her not-so-subtle gaze. "I said, I was hoping to have some dessert if you would allow it."

Her lips twitched, not missing the mischief behind his eyes as he spoke. She would've missed it if it weren't for the way his pupils dilated as he uttered the words.

Wordlessly, she leaned forward, reaching her hand out to touch the side of his face. John tilted his head, kissing the inside of her palm as her fingers hovered over the dip of his jaw, the scent of his aftershave making her heart pound a little faster.

"Yes, of course," she murmured, almost inaudibly, her eyes locked into his aquatic ones. "Although, it'd like for you to have it elsewhere."

On cue, John pulled his hand back and fixed his tie before calling out for their server, asking for the bill. The two bickered for a moment, Y/N insisting they split the bill, but he was having none of it, ending the argument by saying she could pay for their next date.

Yes, the next one. There was going to be another one after this evening. It made Y/N smile more than it should've.

He drove the two back to his place, the car ride going painfully slow. Neither of them spoke during the journey. Instead, John kept his hand on her thigh, the hand sliding closer to her heated core throughout the ride.

As soon as the door to John's apartment closed shut, his lips were pressed hard against hers as he led the two towards the dining table. She felt the table dig into her hips from behind as he hovered over her. He wasted no time in grabbing her by the waist and lifting her up on the surface, moving his lips down to her jaw and neck as he hummed against her skin.

She ran a hand through his hair, breathing in as his other hand ghosted over her hip, running down then back up before it made its way underneath her dress, tugging at her panties. “Are you fond of these?”

“Yes,” She breathed out, her eyelashes fluttering, “Don’t destroy my clothes.”

John smirked, then leaned over her, kissing her again as he focused on pulling the tie open as he pushed her back flat against the cool wood. There was no barrier but her dress between the two. He quickly unzipped the back of her dress before she shrugged it off her body and threw it to a corner. Grabbing one of her thighs, he pushed her legs up and apart. He dropped down to one knee between her legs, hooking his arms under her as he pulled her closer and dropped his head to kiss her thigh slowly, tongue darting out onto her skin.

She was already breathing hard, her mind a little fuzzy from the wine, skin burning with every touch. John was overwhelming, in an incomprehensible way, and she lifted her hips as he rid her of her underwear in a flash, fingers sliding across her slowly.

Moaning, she slid her hand through his hair, falling flat on the table as his tongue wandered over her skin, teasing and sliding until he pushed a finger into her slowly and buried his face between her legs.

“Darling,” He urged her, looking up briefly as the vibrations of his words made her moan again. “Feel free to be loud.”

Her eyes rolled back into her head as he began to move his finger, adding a second one as his tongue moved against her clit, pressing against her as his hands expertly moved against her skin, pulling her closer and then pressing a hand against her stomach as the pressure began to build. She rolled her hips forward on the table, breathing harder and harder as she tried to hold back, but the noises kept getting louder as she pressed against him and softly whispered his name.

He was relentless as he moved faster, jerking her hips almost fully off the table as he groaned against her, sucking on her clit harshly and moving his fingers faster, curling them up and angling his wrist. Her other hand jerked down, grabbing onto his hand as she gasped and arched off the surface, the other hand tugging on his hair as she jerked against him, feeling the waves of warmth and overwhelming shock as her orgasm hit her hard enough that he turned his head and bit down on her thigh, prolonging the aftershocks.

When he pulled back, he moved his hand, sliding it out of her and then bringing it up to her mouth, pushing her lips open. Obliging, she took his digits in, moaning as she tasted herself, her eyes fixated on his intense gaze. Pulling them out, he closed his eyes, licking his fingers clean and looked up at her with a smile.

“Would you like to stay for the evening?”

As if there was any doubt.

#john king #cnn anchors #cnn anchor smut #john king x reader #john king imagine #smut #inside politics #john king fanfiction #fanfiction #politics #election

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thefloorisbalaclava · 4 years

Text

eros [pre-pragma]

eros - erotic love - a passionate and intense form of love that arouses romantic and sexual feelings

pairing: frankie ‘catfish’ morales x f!reader

warnings: light smut - reader’s first time

a/n: this turned out longer than i expected but i had fun writing it although it made me a little sad.

summary: frankie is leaving tomorrow so he spends his last night with you.

pragma masterlist

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO - ONE DAY BEFORE FRANKIE LEAVES

The past few weeks had been hectic for Frankie—from getting his pilot’s license to…her and all the complicated feelings that came from just seeing or being around her.

“I don’t understand why you just won’t tell her. Especially now,” Santiago said as he drove to the beach. They all had went hiking a few days ago and, as always, Frankie could focus on nothing but her. Anytime he tried talking to her though someone else came up and took her attention.

“Park here,” Frankie said trying his best to avoid the change in conversation. Santiago parked then just stared at him.

“Tell her something,” his friend pressed. “Obviously, you both feel it. She invited you upstairs, man.”

“And I turned her down.” Frankie got out of the car and grabbed the cooler from the trunk, mumbling to himself.

“I don’t understand you.” Santiago helped him carry the cooler onto the beach and towards the little fire that their friends had already started.

“About time!” one of them yelled and everyone else cheered. Frankie smiled and greeted everyone but was distracted with trying to find her. There was someone standing at the water's edge a little further down the beach and he knew it was her right away. He grabbed two beers and headed her way. She hadn’t heard him until he was only a few feet away.

“Francisco…hey,” she said. Right away he could hear that something was wrong.

“Hey. Bought you a beer.” He handed her the beer then stared out at the water.

“Thanks.” She only held the can without opening it.

“I…well, we leave tomorrow,” he said, turning to her again.

“I know.” She started walking away, heading away from the water to sit.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, following her.

“What do you think? I don’t want you to leave, Frankie. Either of you.” Finally, she opened the beer and took a few sips. “I don’t wanna say goodbye.” She looked at him as he sat beside her.

“Then don’t.”

They were quiet for some time. He finished his beer and she gave him the rest of hers to finish.

“Pilot, huh?”

“Yeah. Helicopters to be exact.” He smiled but it faded once he saw that she wasn’t.

“Why Frankie?” she asked sadly.

“I’m tired of being useless. I mean…look at me.”

“I look at you all the time,” she confessed. “You should know that by now.” She sighed then closed her eyes. “Will you miss me?”

“What kind of question is that? You know I will.”

“Are you running away from something?” she asked, and he bristled. “From me because you love me and don’t know how to say it?”

“God…” He shook his head and looked down at the sand. “I don’t wanna do this now,” he said.

“Then when, Frankie? What if there is no other time?”

“You saying I’m gonna die?” he snapped.

“No! You know what forget it.” She stood and started to walk away.

“You fuckin’ idiot,” he said to himself before standing and following her. He grabbed her arm gently and turned her around. “Look…I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

When he opened his mouth to answer, Santiago walked over. “You two leaving already?” He nudged Frankie.

“Stop, man.” Frankie spoke through his teeth as if that would make it harder for her to hear.

“I’m going home,” she said. “Gimme a hug, Santi.” He hugged her and kissed her cheek. “You better come back, soldier, or I’ll come looking for you myself.”

“Oh boy, we gotta come back now, don’t we Frankie?”

“Yup.” Frankie stared at her and she shrugged before walking to her car. “Dude, what the hell?”

“What?” Santiago threw his hands up.

“Why’d you say leaving like that? I don’t want her to think…the wrong thing.” He looked at her standing by her car.

“Is it the wrong thing though?”

“I don’t know. I just…”

“Just shut your mouth and go to her.” Santiago patted his shoulder and walked away. Frankie took a deep breath and made his way over to her.

“So,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets.

“So…” The silence stretched and the only sound they could hear was the cheering from their friends on the beach and the waves crashing. “Oh, I got you something.” She opened her car door and pulled out a cap. “Here.”

“You really went and found me another hat to wear?” he asked looking at it.

“I said I would. Put it on.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He pulled the old hat off and threw it into his truck before putting the other hat on and holding his hands out. “Well?”

“Perfect. You gotta wear it forever now.”

“I will.” He held out his hand for her to shake.

“I’d rather have a hug.” She moved closer and he automatically put his arms around her. They stood wrapped in each other’s embrace for a long time. He heard her sniffle a few times, but he didn’t say anything about it. “Kiss me, Frankie.”

“You’re so bossy. I kinda like it.” He smiled before cupping her face and kissing her gently. It was going to end there, but she deepened the kiss. Her hands gripped his shirt, holding him where he was. The tears that stained her cheeks now stained his.

“We should go,” she whispered.

“Go where?” he asked stupidly. “Oh…oh!”

“If this is my last night with you, I want to make it special.” Tears still fell from her eyes.

“We don’t have to do that to make it special…” What the hell was he saying? He could kick himself right now.

“I want you to make love to me, Frankie,” she said confidently. There. It was out in the open. No hesitation on her part, but he was frozen in place.

“You…want…are you…what?” He shook his head then blinked at her.

“You heard me.”

“But we…I…”

“If you don’t want to, I understand.” She turned to her car.

“Wait!” he said a little too loudly. “Are you for real? Are you sure?”

“I am. I’ve thought about it for a long time.”

“Like…how long?” To tell the truth, he had thought about it all the time, even when he was with someone else.

“I don’t know exactly how long, but…a long time. Long enough to know that I’m sure about this.” They stood in silence again while Frankie tried to think of reasons to say no. He didn’t want to say no but he also didn’t want to seem overly eager. Once your heart desired something it was hard to turn it down.

“My place or yours?” he asked, unable to look her directly in the eye.

“Yours.” Once again, no hesitation. Her mind was made up and once that happened, it was hard to change it. He really didn’t want to anyway.

“Okay…so…okay.” He stood there awkwardly as she got into her car and rolled down the window.

“I'll follow.”

“Right.” He got into his truck and his hands twisted at the steering wheel. Why the hell was he so nervous? He had done this plenty of times. But never with someone he felt so much, so deeply for. “Okay,” he breathed, starting the car.

The entire way there, he kept checking his rear-view mirror to make sure she still followed. He had to know this wasn’t a dream or some kind of joke she decided to play on him.

As he pulled into the driveway of his house, he felt a sudden overwhelming sense of desire and lust, but his heart knew it was more than that. She was more than that. He fucking loved her—there was no doubt about that.

He got out of the truck and watched her walk over to him, a smile playing at her mouth.

“You look even more nervous than I feel,” she joked, and he smiled. He loved how she could joke even when something so real was about to happen. She always had a way of relaxing him.

“Let’s go in.” He fumbled with the keys as he walked to the door and unlocked it, holding the door open for her. She immediately kicked her shoes off by the door out of habit. Her eyes fell to the pile of bags that sat off to the side and she looked away quickly, not wanting to linger on it.

“I don’t want you doing this just because I want to. Do you really want to do this with me?” she asked.

The truth shall set you free, he thought.

“I’ve wanted to do this for as long as I can remember,” he confessed. She wasn’t a priest and he wasn’t super religious, but he felt as though he could tell her every sin and not be judged for it. “I thought about it…a lot.”

“Me too.” She walked up and kissed him, making him stumble backwards a bit, knocking his new cap off as she carded her fingers through his hair. He could lie and say it was because she caught him off guard, but he knew it was because she made him weak in the knees.

“Bedroom?” he asked, and she nodded. He took her hand and led her to his room. If he had known this was going to happen, he would have cleaned up a bit, but she didn’t seem to be paying attention to any of that. Why was he? The woman of his dreams was getting undressed in his room and…

“Wait,” he stopped her just as she was pulling her shirt up.

“What?” She pulled the shirt down again.

“I always wanted to…I’d like to…may I undress you?” he finally got out.

“Oh…sure.” She couldn’t look at him at first but soon she felt drawn to him the same way he felt drawn to her. His eyes never left her face as he pulled her shirt up and off. He had to make sure she was okay. “You can…look at me.”

“I am.” He captured her lips in a dizzying kiss and she pulled at his shirt. They broke apart long enough for her to get it off him.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself or to him, he couldn’t be sure, but she climbed onto his bed and laid down. He found himself on top of her, kissing her some more and she pressed herself against him. The embarrassment of knowing that she could most likely feel him was making him move stiffly. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing. I just…” He looked down and she giggled.

“There’s no reason to be shy about that. I don’t have much experience, but I do know that’s supposed to happen."

He sat up on his knees. “What do you mean you don’t have a lot of experience?”

“I’m…I never…you’ll be my first,” she said.

“Shit,” he breathed. Something stirred within him, but something also made him stop. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t want this to happen with anyone else. It’s okay.” Funny that she was the one reassuring him when he was the one who had been through it already. “I know you’ll probably make fun of me later with Santiago.”

“I’d never make fun of you especially for that but…are you sure? One hundred and fifty percent positive?” He looked at her as she sat up on her elbows.

“One hundred and fifty percent, sir.”

He laid down beside her and touched her bare skin, his fingers skimming across her stomach. She trembled and moved closer to him as he slid his hand to the waistband of her jeans and unbuttoned them. He was careful when he moved away to slide them off her, leaving her lying there in nothing but her underwear. He had fantasized about how she would look with nothing on more times than he cared to admit, but this…she was spectacular, and she wasn’t even fully naked yet.

“Your turn.” She sat up and unbutton his jeans. He looked up at the ceiling as she bent to pull them down his legs. Now they both stood there in nearly nothing.

“I’ll um…” She reached behind her back.

“I’ll do it,” he offered. She nodded and turned her back to him. He made quick work of the bra, kissing along her back and shoulders as the straps slid down and the bra finally fell away. When she turned to face him again, he kept his eyes on her face respectfully.

“Go on, Francisco.”

He swallowed hard, finally allowing his eyes to trail over her. He let out a shaky breath followed by a “wow" and she laughed.

“Why thank you.” She looked down at her panties and Frankie immediately got down on his knees. He looked up at her as he hooked his fingers over the waistband of her panties. With a nod from her, he was slowly pulling them down and helping her step out of them. He kissed her stomach, her thighs, and her mound making her gasp.

“Too much?” he asked, moving away quickly.

“No. It was…nice.” She pulled at his arms to make him stand. Following what he had just done, she got on her knees and pulled his underwear down.

“God help me,” he said quietly, quickly pulling her to her feet. If she kissed anywhere around there this whole thing would be over before it started. Instead, he kissed her lips and laid her down carefully, slotting himself between her legs. “I have to, well, get you ready,” he told her.

“Okay. I trust you.” The words were so sincere, so real. She really did trust him and that meant more to him than anything ever will.

“Is there anything you don’t want me to do?” he asked, and she shook her head. “Okay. Well.” He kissed her again before moving lower, kissing her neck, licking across a particularly sensitive part that made her moan quietly. Everything about her was beautiful, even the sounds she made.

When he got to her breasts, he looked at her nervously before swirling his tongue around her nipple. Her hand flew to her mouth as she whimpered loudly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He pulled her hand away from her mouth and held it. “It’s okay.” He moved to the other nipple and this time she moaned without any hesitation. The hand he wasn’t holding found its way into his hair as he kissed down her stomach. Her breathing was uneven, and he looked up to make sure she was okay.

“I’m okay, Frankie. Please.”

He nodded, carefully pushing her legs up and open around him as he kissed lower. She looked away shyly, turning her head to look over at the wall, but he squeezed the hand he was holding.

“Look at me, baby.” When she turned back to him, he slowly dragged his tongue along her, tasting her. A weird sense of pride flowed through him knowing that he was the first to get to do this.

“Oh…oh my god,” she whined.

“You okay?” he asked before kissing her thigh.

“Mmhm.” She bit her lip as she prepared for whatever he did next. He spread her open with his fingers and licked her again, latching onto the bundle of nerves this time. “Frankie, I…I…” He didn’t stop, his tongue and lips sending her into a pleasurable frenzy. She cried out and tried to squirm away from his mouth, but he held her there, drinking her down, closing his eyes in satisfaction.

“Damn,” he whispered, lifting his head. He wiped his chin then crawled up to kiss her. She didn’t seem to mind that, in fact, she seemed eager to kiss him while he tasted like her. “You just…”

“I know what an orgasm is,” she told him with a smile.

“I should, well…” He slid his hand between her spread legs and rubbed her. She was still sensitive from her orgasm and he was able to get one finger in. She gasped and grabbed his wrist. “It’s okay. Look at me.” When her eyes were on him, he pressed his forehead to hers and slowly added another finger. He’s had sex before, but he can’t recall having such an intimate moment with someone. They looked at each other as he touched her and pulled all sorts of sounds from her. He eventually pulled his fingers from her and she giggled, looking away as he brought them to his mouth.

“Frankie…”

“Sorry. You’re just…really good.” He chuckled as she hid her face against his chest.

“Do you have protection?” she asked, and he nodded, sitting up to reach into his bedside table. “Can I put it on?”

“If you want.” He handed her the condom almost immediately regretting letting her touch him there. Her hands were gentle as she wrapped them around him and stroked. She brushed her thumb along the tip, and he grunted, his hips moving with her hands of their own accord. He wanted to whine we she took her hands away to carefully roll on the condom.

As she laid back down and he moved between her legs, she exhaled deeply. “Just keep looking at me, okay? And you tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“Okay.”

He lowered himself over her, reaching between their bodies with one hand to carefully line himself up. “You ready?”

“Yes.” She wrapped her arms around him just as he slid into her. She whimpered and he stopped moving. “Keep…keep going.”

“Eyes, baby.” He wouldn’t continue until she was looking at him again. “I’m here. It’s me.” Just a little further and he was completely inside her, cursing under his breath at the feeling of her. “Still okay?”

“Yeah. Please move.” Her hips squirmed beneath him. “I want to feel…” He kissed her before she could finish, sliding out of her slowly only to push into her again. “Yes.”

“This feels better than I ever imagined.” He moved slightly faster, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. Her eyes closed in pleasure as her hands found their way into his hair, tangling there and keeping his forehead against hers as he made love to her.

“You feel amazing, Frankie,” she moaned and that was nearly his undoing. He kept up the pace since she seemed to be enjoying it just like that but then he noticed the tears and nearly rolled off her. “No. It’s okay. I’m okay,” she cried.

“What is it?” He slowed down but didn’t stop.

“This is just perfect in every way,” she sniffled. “And I’m gonna miss you so much.”

Now he felt tears stinging his eyes. “I know. I’m gonna miss you too.” He moved faster now, his heart and soul breaking but also whole as he made her his. Their bond was something indescribable and not just because of the sex. There was so much more, something that would never go away no matter how far apart they were.

“I…” she started but only smiled then kissed him.

“I know,” he said. “Me too.” He moved his hand between their bodies and touched her. He was close and wanted her to finish first. It only took a few touches for her to come undone beneath him and that was enough to have him groaning her name and finishing with a few thrusts that were slightly harder than the rest. He thought that he should roll off her, but she anchored him there with her arms and legs…and lips. She just couldn’t stop kissing him, her tears wetting his face.

“You’ll always be my Frankie, you know?”

“I hope so.” He rolled off her and she quickly sat up and got out of bed to go to the bathroom. While she was gone, he took care of things on his end. He wondered if he should put something back on but before he could decide, she came back.

“All yours,” she said, climbing into bed and hiding under the covers.

“Be right back.” In the bathroom, he washes himself off then looks in the mirror. He had never felt quite so fulfilled before but…he was about to leave it all behind. The woman lying in his bed right now had given herself to him, heart, body, and soul, and he was leaving. What the hell was he giving her in return? Sleepless nights full of worrying about him? Sadness? Loneliness? She held his heart in her hands and he couldn’t even be here for her.

He walked back into the bedroom and climbed into bed beside her. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” she looked at him, puzzled.

“That I’m leaving like this. We did this and…I’m just leaving. I’m no better than all the other creeps out there.”

“Francisco Morales, I knew what was coming and I gave myself to you knowing that. I don’t regret a moment. Do you?”

“Of course not, but…,” He turned to her. “If you wanna see someone else while I’m gone, you can.”

“What?”

“I have no right to keep you hanging on waiting for me. We probably won’t see each other a lot.”

“I don’t care. There will be no one else, Frankie. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine.” She snuggled up against him.

“Really?”

“Yes. Hold me, please.” Her voice cracked and she cried against his chest. “You better come back; you hear me? I would wait forever and a day for you but please don’t make me.”

He lifted her head, wiping her tears away. “I'll come back. I promise.”

“And you’ll stay?” she cried, wiping the single tear that fell from his eye.

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” he said before kissing her.

Tomorrow would come and he would be gone, but they had right now, and he would make the most of it.

Tags: @cable-kenobi @saltywintersoldat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @pedrosdoll @psychobillybunny @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @keeper0fthestars @mrsparknuts @thinemineours @huliabitch @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @lavenderl3mons @mrscrain-x7 @fioccodineveautunnale @gooddaykate @themilkface @tiffdawg @ms-dont-care @mus1caln0tes @awesomefandomsunited @seawhisperer @virtualxjournality @badassbaker @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @lokiaddicted @forever-rogue @sloantravels @javier-djarin @jawabear @longitud-de-onda

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco 'catfish' morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #headcanon

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flowerfan2 · 3 years

Text

Hello all! This chapter includes some mild physical h/c (in addition to all of the emotional h/c I’ve been throwing at you). Enjoy!

David x Patrick, A03, 25k total

Chapter 8

Patrick wakes up and for a moment he’s confused – is he late for work? Did he forget to set his alarm? He reaches out an arm to find his phone and bumps into David, who grumbles sleepily and flops over, snagging the hem of Patrick’s t-shirt in his hand.

Patrick’s heart races, and it’s all he can do not to break out into delighted laughter. It’s just a random Thursday morning, except by some miracle, David Rose has come back into his life.

He settles back down, adjusting the blanket over them and letting David nuzzle into the crook of his neck. David’s arm is curled over Patrick’s chest, and Patrick takes his hand and plays with his fingers.

Patrick noticed right away, back in the airport, that David wasn’t wearing a single ring. Not his old silver ones, and not his gold engagement rings. Nothing new, either.

Neither of them has mentioned it, although Patrick feels certain David has noticed him noticing their absence. David’s rings featured prominently in the story of their relationship. Patrick is still proud of himself for finding David gold engagement rings that matched his beloved silver ones. At the time Patrick felt like it was a sign that he knew what he was doing, proposing to a uniquely wonderful man with a uniquely perfect set of rings.

It feels wrong that David’s fingers are bare. He wonders if David has found a new habit to stem his nerves, now that sliding his rings from one finger to the other isn’t available.

As if aware of Patrick’s scrutiny David stirs again, blinking his eyes open to look at Patrick.

“Hi,” Patrick says softly, unable to help the smile that stretches his cheeks. “Good morning.”

David smiles back for a moment, his face open. “Good morning.” His eyes slide closed again, and he snuggles closer to Patrick. Patrick lets his hand rest on David’s shoulder, his thumb moving slowly up and down. “What time is it?” David finally mutters, opening his eyes again.

“Almost nine.”

David flops over on his back and frowns. “That late?”

“Yup. You want to go run, don’t you?” Patrick asks. He’s realized even in this short time with David that it is almost like a compulsion for him now, the urge to go running first thing in the morning. Patrick isn’t going to get in the way. He leans in and presses a quick kiss to David’s nose, making him wrinkle it in response. “Go ahead. I’ll have the coffee ready when you get back.”

David pushes himself up on an elbow, considers Patrick’s words, and then nods. “Okay. Thanks.” David rolls out of bed and heads off to get dressed. A few minutes later Patrick is still in bed when David appears, ready for his run in a long sleeved black athletic shirt and silky short shorts, defined thigh muscles on full display.

“See you soon,” David says, a hint of shyness in his voice. He leans down and kisses Patrick, not caring about the fact that Patrick still hasn’t brushed his teeth, and Patrick cups David’s cheek with his hand and returns the kiss.

“See you soon.”

Patrick forces himself out of bed after David leaves, figuring that he might as well make himself presentable as well as see what he can scrounge up for breakfast. His ribs are still twinging, but they’re definitely getting better. The bruises on his face are fading more and more each day. Progress is being made, and Patrick thinks it’s not just physical.

He’s been happier this week than he’s been in a long time, and the reason is obvious. Patrick hopes that David is feeling the same way. Even though they’re still awkward with each other, still learning about how they have both changed, it feels like each painful revelation has the potential to bring them closer.

Patrick’s in the kitchen, getting the coffee going, when his phone pings with a text. He lets out a soft groan when he sees that it’s from Stevie. She has messaged him repeatedly over the past few days, and Patrick hasn’t responded.

Stop avoiding me, Patrick. I can’t get in touch with David, either. Coincidence?

Stevie is too smart for her own good, Patrick thinks. He writes back, figuring that now, while David is out, is as good a time to do this as he’s likely to get.

I’m not avoiding you. And it’s not exactly a coincidence.

So you’re saying that you know why David’s got his out of office message on?

He’s taking the week off.

And you are privy to this because…?

Patrick sighs, and bites the bullet. He’s with me. Don’t throw a fit.

His phone rings, and Patrick answers it, ready for a lecture.

“If you planned this without telling me, I’m going to be pissed,” Stevie says, but her voice doesn’t sound even the least bit angry.

“I didn’t plan it – are you serious? You know how things have been.” Until recently Patrick’s plans haven’t been any more ambitious than eat and sleep.

“Then…?”

“We ran into each other at the airport, when I was on my way to my parents’ place in Florida. We… talked things out. And then he asked if he could come with me, and so now he’s here. With me.”

“You ran into each other at the airport?”

“Yup.”

“And he changed his plans, to stay with you, just like that?”

“Yes.”

“That’s some rom-com level stuff.”

“Yeah, I know.” Patrick waits, biting his lip.

“Okay, just… be careful.”

“I will,” Patrick says automatically, despite the fact that he thinks he’s never been less careful in his life than he’s been this week. “Thanks for not being mad.”

There’s a pause, and then Stevie speaks, a rare bit of sincerity in her voice. “Don’t sound so surprised. I know how much you’ve missed him.”

“I really have,” Patrick admits.

“Are you guys back together?”

Patrick thinks about David’s sleep-mussed hair, and soft kisses flavored with toothpaste. “Yeah, we are.”

“Well, if that’s what’s going to make you happy, I’m not going to yell at you for it. And as much as it pains me to say it, I still want the best for him, too, and you are definitely good for him.”

Stevie doesn’t say too good for him, although from the tone of her voice it may be a close thing.

“Thanks, Stevie.” Patrick hears the door open, and startles, surprised. David’s only been gone half an hour or so. He promises Stevie he won’t ignore her any more, and puts down his phone. When he looks up, David is limping into the house, one arm clutching the other. One leg is streaked with blood.

Patrick feels his chest tighten as he rushes towards him. “David…” Patrick grabs David’s shoulders and scans up and down his body. There’s dirt and grass down one side of his arm, and both knees are scraped, bright red and angry.

David is trembling, and it sends a mirroring shiver through Patrick. He steps closer, one hand reaching to hold David’s head as he catches his eyes. “David. What happened?”

“I’m fine, a car just came too close and-”

David’s knees buckle, and Patrick pulls him tight again his body. “It’s all right, I’ve got you.” Forcing himself to keep breathing, he shuffles them over to the couch. David practically falls onto it, Patrick’s arms the only things keeping him upright.

He runs his hands up and down David’s arms, careful not to press too hard. David’s still trembling, clutching one elbow, and leaning hard into Patrick’s side.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Patrick says, trying to keep the shakiness out of his voice. “You’re okay. You, um, you didn’t get hit by the car, right?” He can’t believe he’s asking this question, David can’t possibly have been hit by a car, he could have internal bleeding, he could die -

“I don’t think so,” David whispers against Patrick’s neck. “No.”

Patrick doesn’t much care for this answer, but David seems so shaken he’s not sure he’ll get anything clearer out of him right now. He strokes up and down David’s back, keeping him close while he slowly catches his breath. He feels rather than hears David swallow tightly, and realizes his own mouth is dry as well. “David, can you stay here a minute while I get you something to drink?”

At David’s nod, Patrick goes to the kitchen and grabs a brightly colored sports drink out of the refrigerator. He twists open the cap and gives it to David, who takes a few long gulps, then makes a face.

“This tastes horrible.” David frowns at the fluorescent green beverage.

“You bought it.”

David blinks at Patrick, and lets out a shaky laugh. “Oh my god, what is going on?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Patrick looks down at David’s knees and the blood drying on his shin. “That looks like it hurts. What happened?”

David purses his lips and then stands up. He appraises the room, as if for appropriate props, and then places himself next to the kitchen island. Patrick stifles a smile – even in the midst of his stress, David can’t help but put on a show.

“I was running down the road, the one past the gate, that goes by the pond with the bridge? Going against traffic, like you’re supposed to.”

“Okay.”

“Then this car zooms around the corner,” he gestures to the end of the kitchen island, “going really fast, like he’s in the senior citizen Grand Prix. And he came right at me, so I sort of - threw myself out of the way.” David indicates what he means with a swing of his arms. “But I think my foot got caught on the curb or something, and I hit the ground.” He stills, looking lost.

Patrick rises and puts his arms around David’s waist. “That sounds scary.”

David nods. “I could feel the wind the car made, you know? I think it was really close.” He sucks in a breath. “He didn’t even stop.”

“Asshole,” Patrick says, spreading his fingers out over David’s lower back, feeling the heat of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah.” David rests his head on Patrick’s shoulder. “And now my knees really hurt.”

Patrick lifts a hand and gently threads his fingers through David’s hair. It’s a little tacky with yesterday’s product, but doesn’t seem to be hiding any horrible head injuries. “You’re sure you didn’t hit your head, right?” He hates to ask, but if there’s a chance David has a concussion, they need to know.

“No, just my knees and my elbow. Horrifyingly, I think there’s gravel stuck inside my skin.”

“That’s going to have to be cleaned out.”

“Ugh, I know.” David sighs. “Give me a little while to take a shower and deal with my wounds, and then we can go on your trip into town.”

Patrick runs through possible responses in his head. It would be easiest to just say okay, and let David go about his morning as if nothing happened. But as much as he’s trying to be calm for David, he’s got a lot of adrenaline running through him. It’s terrifying to think about David getting hurt, even if it turned out to be only scrapes and bruises. The look on David’s face when he came in the door is still haunting Patrick, and it’s only through sheer force of will that he isn’t the one needing to be comforted.

He’s not ready to let go of David just yet. And although David is putting on a brave face, he thinks David is still shaken up too. Besides, cleaning out those scrapes is going to be a bitch.

“Want some company in the shower, before we clean up your knees?”

David levels a searching look at him, Patrick’s hair still damp from his own shower, and Patrick knows David can tell that he was scared, too. “Yeah. Yes. That would be good.”

In the bathroom they both strip down wordlessly and get under the spray, arms around each other. Patrick studiously avoids ogling David, keeping his eyes at chest level and above. It’s mildly ridiculous, given all the time they have spent naked together in the past, but he doesn’t think now is the time for more.

There’s not much cleaning going on at first, both of them awkward as hell, but finally Patrick lathers up David’s hair, and David leans his head back against Patrick’s shoulder, humming his pleasure at the feeling of his fingers against his scalp.

“I’m really okay,” David whispers. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” Patrick replies. He rinses David’s hair, careful not to get any soap in his eyes. David relaxes against him, and Patrick takes his time, smoothing his fingers over his forehead. “You know, we could still go to the doctor, if you think there’s any chance you hit your head, or if you just want to be sure…”

“Go to the doctor and tell them I didn’t get hit by a car? I’m not sure my insurance will cover it.” David rolls his head up to look at Patrick, blinking away the shower spray. “But if you need me to, I will.”

“You’ll let me know if you start to feel worse, a headache or dizziness or anything? If it might be a concussion?”

“I will. But I’m going to be fine.”

Patrick lets out a slightly panicked laugh, and David joins in. He can feel his body relax, the need to hold David against him no longer as urgent. He hands David a loofah and gives him some space to soap up.

It’s not sexual, or at least not much, not even when David finishes rinsing off and turns back to Patrick, a smile skirting the edges of his face. Patrick is grateful for David’s understanding, if that’s what it is, grateful that David has allowed them this space to be together, to find their footing again.

He suddenly doesn’t want it to be entirely platonic, though, and he knows David is waiting for a cue from him. So he reaches up and cups David’s cheek, pulling them close for a soft, tender kiss.

He’s still not sure why he’s not ready for more. He’s tried to imagine explaining it to David, but he comes up empty every time.

This, though - gentle touches and almost chaste kisses, David’s eyes constantly finding his as they get out of the shower and dry off, this is so good it hurts.

Patrick is drawn back into reality when David limps out of the bathroom and returns in a pair of black boxer briefs and a sweatshirt (“It’s Neil Barrett,” Patrick can almost hear him say), the first aid kit from the hall closet in his hands. “We better get this over with before I chicken out.”

Patrick forces himself to look at David’s knees, and then back up at David. “Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “How do you want to do this?”

David pokes through the box of supplies and takes out a tweezers and some antibiotic ointment. “Can you, um, check to see if the dirt is all out?”

“Yeah. But let’s get out of here, we need more space.”

Patrick gets dressed quickly in jeans and a t-shirt and then washes his hands while David spreads a towel out on the bed in the guest room. David perches on the edge of the bed, knees bent, and Patrick sits on a desk chair and shines a flashlight on David’s knees.

“I think the shower cleaned it out pretty well,” Patrick says, shining the light this way and that, firmly refusing to think about how the shallow scrapes on David’s skin could have been so much worse. “I’ll just check, okay?”

David leans over, trying to look too, and bumps his head into Patrick’s. “Sorry. I don’t like the idea of pieces of the road stuck in there,” David says, waving his hand at himself. “Do what you need to do.”

Patrick takes a piece of gauze from the first aid kit and presses at the side of the scrapes. In response David hisses and grabs at Patrick’s shoulder, but Patrick continues, using the tweezer to check the scrapes, and eventually to remove one tiny piece of debris. David has his free hand covering his eyes, peeking around every few seconds. It’s kind of cute, although Patrick won’t say it.

When he is satisfied that the wounds are clean, he squeezes some ointment out onto his fingers and gently dabs it on. He sticks a few large bandages over the worst of it. Even if it will be difficult to keep the bandages on over David’s knees, it will give him a bit of extra protection for the time being.

Sitting back, he looks up at David, who takes his hand away from his eyes and gives Patrick a sideways smile. “Thanks,” David says, and Patrick nods.

“No problem.”

David stands, frowning at the way the bandaids on his knees wrinkle, and starts to straighten up the bed. Patrick repacks the first aid kit and puts it away in the closet, glancing at the clock in the kitchen. It’s after eleven, and it will take a good twenty-five minutes to get to the restaurant he has in mind.

Worse than that, he realizes, it has started to rain. Patrick opens the door to the lanai and looks out at the sky, which is dark with clouds in every direction.

“Not a great day for our trip, is it?” David asks, coming up to stand beside him. “Any good pizza deliveries around here? I could google it, see if there’s a Little Caesars or something.”

Frustration wells up inside him, and he turns away, pressing a hand to his face.

“Patrick? What’s wrong? Since when don’t you like pizza?”

“I made you come down here, and all you’ve seen the whole week has been the inside of this house.”

“And the Publix,” David says.

Patrick knows David’s trying to turn the conversation around, keep it light, but Patrick can’t meet him there. He knows this suburban town isn’t what David is used to when it comes to vacations, but he had hoped to take him somewhere special, to show him a good time, as it were, maybe make some better memories… Patrick shakes his head. “We haven’t gone anywhere, you’ve just been babysitting me and soon you’ll have to leave and…” Get it together, Brewer, he thinks to himself. This is not attractive.

He glances up to see David struggling not to smile.

“What? There are some places worth seeing, the beaches, and an art museum-”

The doorbell rings and David’s mouth twitches. “Hold that thought.” David darts in front of him to get the door, despite the fact that he’s still hasn’t put pants on, and brings in a large package. Patrick is surprised to see that it’s addressed to David, with an RMG return address.

David sets it on the coffee table. “Do you have a scissors anywhere?”

Patrick finds one in the office and gives it to David, who delicately slices through the tape on the box, using just the tip of the scissors.

“Okay, I’m definitely curious,” Patrick says. He’s not sure why David has to open the box right now, but he seems intent on it, so Patrick tries to settle down and follow along.

David lifts out a piece of plastic bubble wrap and nods approvingly. “Looks like Rory paid attention to my instructions.”

“Rory?”

“My assistant,” David says, taking out yet another protective layer of wrapping.

“David, what’s in there?”

David flicks his eyes up to Patrick’s and then back to the box, looking cautiously smug. “A very carefully curated selection of items from my warm weather wardrobe, including my favorite summer weight sweaters.” David pushes some of the contents aside, poking around. “I asked for a bathing suit, too, although that’s not as hard to replace. I hope he found the pants I asked for, without them the Givenchy top isn’t quite right.”

Patrick stares at David, hope blossoming in his chest. He assumed that David was heading back to Toronto after his week of vacation was up, and he hasn’t had the courage to ask about it. He doesn’t know why David would stay longer, unless he’s as crazy as Patrick feels right now. But why else would David want his summer clothes?

David has pulled a pair of black capri pants out of the box, holding them up against himself to smooth out a wrinkle, and Patrick finally spits out the words.

“David, does this mean you’re staying?”

David cocks his head at Patrick, setting the pants back in the box. “Would you like me to?” David says, a hint of shyness in his voice.

“Yes. Yes, I – yes.” Patrick surges forward and captures David’s lips in a kiss. David returns it, gently, just as he has most of their kisses recently, but it’s not enough for Patrick this time. He opens his mouth and deepens the kiss, his hands grasping at David’s hips and pulling him close. David responds with a little gasp of surprise, and Patrick feels his whole body light up.

“David,” Patrick leans his head on David’s shoulder, not even sure what he’s trying to say. “I’m…”

David pulls back to catch his eyes, his expression so fond that it opens up something inside of Patrick, a rush of warmth throughout his body.

“What, honey?”

Patrick beams. He can feel his smile stretching his cheeks, and suddenly the words are there. “I’m so happy. I feel like my happiness muscles are waking up.”

David gives a sideways smile, his eyes flashing. “Is that a thing?”

Patrick laughs. “I don’t know. I sound insane, I know, it’s just -- all this week I’ve felt so good, not all the time, but more and more, and everything keeps getting-” He struggles to describe it, holding David’s elbows and drinking him in. “Clearer. Brighter.”

David ducks his head down, but Patrick can see the smile he’s trying to hide. Maybe David is feeling it too, feeling the joy of just being together. Maybe that’s why he’s offering to spend some more time with Patrick in this boring town with its cookie cutter houses and unseasonable weather.

“You can really stay?” Patrick asks, wanting to hear it again. “What about work?”

“I’ll work remotely. It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

David blinks and meets Patrick’s gaze, his eyes soft. “Easiest decision of my life.”

#Schitt's Creek fic #Schitt's Creek #David x Patrick #SC fic #SC fanfic #SC fanfiction #David Rose #Patrick Brewer

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madamebaggio · 4 years

Photo

Notes: THIS TOOK ME FOREVER! I’m coming to the conclusion that I require at least 24 working hours to produce smut. u.u

I’m a mess. This weekend was supposed to be my writing time, but a lot of emotional conversations happened (which is always good, because discussing our feelings with our friends is important), and the guy who’s not my boyfriend is moving so we were talking about this... Anyway.

I haven’t forgotten the other asks. I’ll work on them as soon as I finish the other smut.

And remember...

THIS IS SMUT. THERE’S BARELY ANY PLOT. THERE ARE NAUGHTY WORDS AND THAT’S IT.

Hope you enjoy it anyway ;)

***

“Why don’t you just leave?” Sansa yelled, as she marched into her room.

If she thought she was going to get rid of Jon that easily, she was really mistaken; he just followed her there.

“You’ve been complaining the whole night that no one would help you.” Jon pointed out. “I’m offering to help.”

Sansa spinned on her heel, glaring at him. “Well, I don’t need your help. You can go.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jon demanded.

His relationship with Sansa had always been difficult, but this was taking the cake.

He’d been friends with Robb since kindergarten, and most of Robb’s siblings had liked Jon from the moment they met him. Rickon, as a baby, used to sleep better in Jon’s arms than anyone else’s.

All the Stark siblings liked Jon. Except Sansa.

They never got along properly. Even when she was a little girl that adored her older brother, she hardly gave Jon a second glance. She didn’t talk to him the way she talked to the others -and she was sweet to Theon! -and she didn’t even try to hide it.

Jon never quite understood what Sansa’s problem was.

However, once she got older, he started having a problem of his own. The older she got, the more beautiful she became. Honestly, it was getting ridiculous.

He’d said a thousand different things to himself, trying to remember she was younger, Robb’s baby sister, that she hated him… But all of that was only to hide the fact that he was crazy over her.

And he didn’t mean only as in he wanted her naked body -even though he did want that -but he truly cared about her.

Sansa was sweet, extremely smart, caring and brave. Even if she tended to act like a brat around him, there were these fleeting moments, those rare occurrences when she’d show a different side and…

Anyway. Jon might have a bit of a crush, but he’d never admit to anything.

However, right then, he was dead tired and he was trying to be nice to her, but she was being a brat as usual.

They should’ve been way past that. She was twenty now, and they had been getting along marginally better in those last weeks. How could one party blow it all up like this?

Robb and Arya had bailed on cleaning the party they planned and now Sansa was tired, and somehow it was Jon’s fault?

Fuck no.

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” She hissed at him. “You’re the one who’s acting weird.”

“Me?” Jon couldn’t believe this. “You’re angry at me for no reason.”

Sansa scoffed. “I’m not angry at you.”

Then she clearly dismissed him, because she turned her back to him again. And something in Jon just fucking snapped; he grabbed her arm and turned her back to him.

Sansa’s chest collided with his, and Jon had this moment of clarity, where he thought he’d definitely gone too far -he wasn’t that guy -but when Sansa looked into his eyes…

Her pupils were blown wide, her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was shallow. Was she…

Jon didn’t let go of her arm. “Sansa?”

“What?” She probably meant to snap at him, but it came out breathless, needy…

Oh fuck.

This was bad idea, a really bad idea. But then, Jon opened his mouth to speak, and Sansa’s eyes focused on his lips, and he knew he was going to hell, but he couldn’t stop himself…

He kissed her. It was way less suave than he’d like to admit, but it was just an impulse because of the way she was looking at his lips. Sansa gasped against his lips, then parted her own, and that was it.

Jon was going to hell, but he was not stopping this.

He pulled her tighter against himself, his mouth taking hers, kissing her as he’d dreamed about for so long. And maybe -just maybe -Sansa had wanted him as much as he’d wanted her, because she was as avid as he was.

Sansa’s hand went to his hair, then she groaned in frustration. Jon didn’t understand it, until she pulled at the band that was holding his hair in a bun. When his hair was free she sunk her fingers in it, grabbing a fistful of it.

Jon caressed her waist, his hand going under her blouse, his thumb brushing over the lace of her bra. Sansa quickly let go of Jon’s hair to help him get her blouse off. Once it was carelessly discarded on the ground, she pulled him to the bed by his T-shirt.

Sansa fell on the bed, looking up at Jon, while he pulled his T-shirt off. The way she was looking at him, like she could eat him up immediately, made Jon burn. When he got rid of his T-shirt, he kicked off his shoes, while Sansa was already opening her jeans. He grabbed at it, while she scooted up on the bed, leaving her on her panties and bra.

The room was dark, only the light coming from the window illuminated them, and Jon thought it made Sansa look even more beautiful. She was like a siren, a magical being.

Jon put his knee on the bed, then crawled over Sansa, his body covering hers. She pulled him down to her, so his weight settled on her. Jon grabbed Sansa’s -perfect long -legs and hoisted them over his waist.

Jon kissed Sansa’s neck, her shoulder, then licked up her throat. Her hands were trying to open the buttons of his pant and pushed them down at the same time.

Jon needed a minute. “Sansa.” He panted against her neck. “Can we just…”

She’d managed get her hand inside his pants and around his cock. It really made it difficult to keep a conversation, but Jon tried his best. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He finally suceeded in asking.

“Jon Snow, if you stop now, I’ll kill you.” She promised against his ear.

Yup, fair enough.

Although Sansa’s hand on his cock felt amazing, Jon had a dream, a simple dream and he was not going to let anything get in the way of it. He -gently- pried her hand away from him, then started moving down her body, dropping kisses wherever he passed -breastbone, stomach, just below her belly button - until he reached the line of her panties, where he dropped a reverent kiss.

“Jon?” Sansa called, seemed hesitant. “Where are you…”

Jon grinned at her. “I’m about to eat you out, pretty girl. May I?” His fingers were playing with the waistband of the previous mentioned panties.

“You actually want to…” She seemed unable to finish the question.

“I do. I insist on it, actually.”

“Well, then… By all means.”

Jon chuckled, pulling her panties down her legs, until they were forgotten on her floor. He pushed her legs open, and dropped kisses to her inner thighs, each one closer to her cunt. He looked at her, and saw that Sansa’s eyes were fixed on him as she bit her lips, clearly apprehensive. Maybe no one had ever done this to her -or done it properly. In this case, Jon had something to prove here.

He grabbed one of her hands. “Here.” He laid her hand on his hair. “You’ll want something to hold on to.”

Sansa scoffed. “You’re so full… Oh my…” Her words were cut by Jon’s tongue circling her clit.

She brought both hands to Jon’s hair, gripping tightly on it. Jon loved the feel of her pulling his hair while he ate her cunt. Jon gave her his full attention, noticing what she liked better -like a hint of teeth when he sucked on her clit.

She sobbed his name, her hips moving against his mouth, and when Jon put two fingers inside her, she came, falling apart as her whole body convulsed. Jon didn’t give her one second to recover, he just kept doing what he was doing.

Sansa sobbed a protest, tried to push him away for a second, but then her fingers just gripped his hair harder, pressing his sinful mouth closer to where she needed him.

When Sansa came this time, she was pretty sure she blacked out.

Jon wiped his mouth on the sheet and went back to Sansa’s side, lying next to her, his hand making soothing circles on her belly. “Are you okay?” He asked softly.

“I don’t think so.”

His chuckle was smug. “We can stop here if you want.”

Sansa gave him a look that made clear she was questioning his intelligence. “I hope that was a joke.”

Jon grinned at her. “Do you have a condom?”

“The bedside table.” She pointed out weakly.

Jon opened the drawer and recovered a condom. He took off his pants and put the condom on, just to notice that Sansa had been watching him with interest.

“You like what you see?” He teased.

“I’ve always had.”

That was not fair.

Jon would like to say he was much smoother and refined, but after that sentence? Yeah, not a chance in hell.

He had to kiss her and touch her and fuck her. And Sansa really should’ve told him to slow down or something, but she didn’t. She squeezed him between her legs, called his name, grabbed his ass -he was starting to think she was in love with it -and melted under him.

He fucked her hard and fast, sweat covering their bodies, their mouths fused in what seemed a never ending kiss. His hands and lips couldn’t get enough of her and they were everywhere at the same time.

He came faster than he’d have liked -he wished he could stay between her legs the whole damn night -but once he was done, he brought his hand to her cunt and her clit and made her come again, because fair was a fair and he wanted her to feel so good because of him that she’d…

What, exactly?

Once they were finished, Sansa got up and went to the bathroom. Jon was nervous, because he didn’t know if he should go or stay or if he should…

Sansa came back with a glass of water, still completely naked and offered it to him. Jon drank from it, then got up and went to the bathroom.

There might have been a peppy talk in there, but he wouldn’t admit to anything.

Once he went back to the room, she was lying on the bed, a space clearly left for him, and Jon had to prevent himself from crying in relief.

“So…” He started once he was lying beside her. “What do we…”

“Cuddle.” Sansa informed him.

“I can do that.” He pulled her to him, her head resting on his shoulder and it was perfect. “But besides that…”

“You’re not getting back with Daenerys, are you?” She demanded.

“What? Why would you ask me that?”

“Theon said you would.”

“No. We’re done… Wait. Is that why you were so angry at me today?”

Sansa refused to answer, so Jon made her look at him, then dropped a kiss to her forehead. “You’re the one I’m with now, and the one I hope I’ll be from now on.”

She opened a grin. “That was smooth.”

He snorted. “I can be smooth. Sometimes.”

When Sansa fell asleep in his arms it was like a dream.

But it let Jon awake wondering…

How the fuck would he tell Robb about this?

#madame baggio #crackship #gifs not mine #one shot #smut #game of thrones #modern au #Sansa Stark #jon snow #sansa stark x jon snow #jonsa

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marveloussupernerd · 3 years

Text

Happy New Year - Yoosung

Happy new year everyone! Hope this year you and your loved ones are happy and healthy. And hopefully we can find 3D people to fall in love w too!

Summary: you’ve had a crush on Yoosung for way too long. Maybe you’ll make your move tonight when it hits midnight? Maybe...

“Hi Princess!” Zen greeted you, lifting you up into a big hug. “Can you believe it’s almost the new year?”

“Honestly I can’t. This year went by so fast!”

He set you down. “I can’t believe you only joined the RFA this year.”

“I know right?” You pulled slightly on the sleeves of your shirt. “It feels like I’ve known you all my whole life.”

“How about this year we do more parties? Or hangouts in general. I don’t like that we’ve only gotten to hang out a handful of times this year,” he pouted.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course!” You began to walk into the event. “Is everyone here already?”

“Yup!” He lead you through the main entrance. “Yoosung keeps looking up at the door. I think he’s been waiting for you.”

“I highly doubt it,” you told yourself more than him. “I’m sure he’s just excited to meet the LOLOL guest I invited.”

Your eyes locked with Yoosung’s and he rushed over. “Sure, Yeah right,” Zen teased.

Yoosung pulled you into a hug. “Happy New Year! Well, almost. I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“Oh! Well I’m here now. You look nice,” you complimented, eyes glancing over his navy suit. It was well-fitted to his body. Jumin must’ve made an investment in him.

“I’ll get us some drinks,” Zen offered, nudging you as he left. You rolled your eyes.

Seven practically skipped over to the two of you. “Hey! You look...” he glanced at Yoosung, then back at you, “Pretty.”

Yoosung choked on air. “Yes! You do. I was just about to say that.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s not even new,” you shrugged, referencing your outfit.

“I could always get you something new next time,” a deep voice said behind you. Jumin. You refused to jump, even though his presence had startled you.

You turned to face him, a smile on your face. “I’m good with this. Thank you though!”

Jaehee was next to him, giving you an awkward wave.

“Ugh. Just because you offer to buy her things doesn’t mean you’re going to get to take her on a date.” Another voice behind you. That was Zen. You scooted back a little bit, forming a circle with your friends so you could stop being startled every time. “I won’t let you.” Zen continued, placing an arm protectively around your waist.

You didn’t even have a crush on Zen. But your cheeks were heating up. He was super overprotective like an older brother. It didn’t help how handsome he was. You scooted away just a little. “I’m okay Zenny. I can take care of myself,” you grinned, using your nickname on him.

He reached to the table behind him and picked up a drink, handing it to you. “This is yours by the way!” You reached to grab it, but he pulled his hand back a little, waving his finger. “Ah ah ah. Remember, you shouldn’t take drinks from guys. Except you can trust me.”

“That makes... startlingly little sense,” Seven commented.

Still, you knew Zen was just being his overprotective self and took the drink. He’d never spike your drink. None of the RFA members would.

“So,” Seven started. This couldn’t be good. “Are you all going to start off the new year the right way?”

“What’s the right way?” Yoosung asked. Pure sweet boy. He was perfect. You were already blushing at Seven’s question.

“You kiss someone at midnight of course! It’s a thing,” Zen explained.

“Maybe Jumin and Zen will finally kiss,” you teased.

Jumin stiffened. “This conversation is idiotic,” he groaned, then left the circle. Jaehee frowned, then followed, clipboard in hand.

“Is that really a thing? Or are you two just messing with me,” Yoosung asked, a small pout on his face. It was like he had learned that those two liked to mess with him.

“No, this is real. Although you don’t really have to do it. Champagne toast works just as well,” you shrugged.

“Have you ever done it?” Yoosung asked timidly, unable to meet your eye.

“I guess? When I was dating this one guy a long time ago. But not at a party or anything like this.” You knew your face was flushed. It was embarrassing talking about it. “I don’t know... it’s not necessary or anything.”

“You’ve had a boyfriend before!?” Yoosung asked in shock. Zen and Seven laughed out loud.

“Yeah of course. Like in high school and stuff.”

“Oh...” his face was bright red. “I’ve never had a girlfriend. I’ve never even kissed someone.”

It broke your heart. Who wouldn’t want to kiss Yoosung? Uh, you mean... uh... Still, it was sad. “Don’t worry! I’m sure you just need to find that special someone!” You encouraged him.

“Yeah. Maybe she’s closer than you think,” Seven added suggestively, sending you a wink. Was it really this obvious!?

You drank the rest of your drink quickly. “I’ve gotta get more. I’m gonna, uh, go mingle with the guests!” You excused yourself, desperate to get away from your two wingmen.

Mingling made you feel better. Until it got closer to midnight. Seven loomed behind you during a conversation. “It’s 11:45,” he whispered ominously in your ear. It made you shiver.

“5 minutes til New Years!” Zen cheered to you, handing you another glass of champagne. “If you’re nervous, you can just drink instead. That’s as good a choice as any.”

“Are you even kissing someone? I don’t know why all this pressure is on me.”

He laughed. “Of course not. The press would go crazy! But do it for me. It’d be fun.”

You sighed, excusing yourself to get some air. You stepped outside the event, leaning back against the wall of the building. Your feet hurt from your shoes. You were tired and you didn’t wanna be here. And you especially didn’t want to feel pressured. You took a big gulp do your champagne. You needed more alcohol.

“You needed a break too?” Yoosung asked, walking over to you, glass of his own in hand.

You sighed, nodding. It was freezing outside, but it felt nice. It was warm in there and stuffy. You needed something to wake you up. “There’s so much pressure to start the new year out right. I miss when I was a kid and slept right through the parties.”

“That was fun,” he chuckled. “My parents always had their friends over. I hung out with their kids and we all crashed before 11.”

“Oh I felt that.” You took another big drink. “My head hurts and I’m tired.”

“You’re telling me. I’m so freaking nervous,” he whined, shoving his empty hand into his coat pocket.

“Don’t be nervous,” you giggled. “It’s just a countdown. Then people cheering. Then you can go home and fall fast asleep.” Yeah... you needed to tell yourself that too. You felt a shiver run over you. Before you could stop him, Yoosung was trading his glass between his hands to shrug off his jacket.

“Oh! I’m okay,” you assured him. It didn’t stop him though. He wrapped his jacket around your shoulders, champagne sloshing from his glass from the motion.

He chuckled. “It’s no fair guys have to wear 7 layers and you’re stuck in this, freezing.” He pulled the jacket on your shoulders further, ensuring it wouldn’t fall off.

And then his watch went off.

He still was grasping his jacket on you, trying to fix it. “It’s midnight,” he stated awkwardly. He let go of his jacket and took an anxious half step back, noticing how close you were moments before.

“Oh! I-“ you held out your glass, clinking it against his. “Happy New Year Yoosung.” You downed the entire glass of champagne. Yoosung gingerly took a sip. Then he looked at the ground. Then glanced at you. Then his glass. Then you.

And then you took a step towards him. You were going to kiss him. You could do this !! Worst case you could blame it on the alcohol.

And then he took a step towards you simultaneously. And then your foreheads bumped. You laughed out loud, your free hand moving to cup your forehead. It hurt. Yoosung’s face was bright red. He took your empty glass from you, bending down to set both your glasses on the ground. He stood back up to face you.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered, his face so so close to your own you could taste the champagne in his mouth, without your lips even touching. One of his hands moved to cup your face, the other pulling slightly on his suit jacket, resting on your shoulders.

You shut your eyes and leaned forward, lips meeting his. His lips were so soft, as though never having gone through the abuse of kissing in the past preserved their baby soft feel. Where were you supposed to put your hands!? You rested them on his chest, by his shoulders. It was too soon when he pulled away, the stupidest smile on his face.

“I- I love you,” he choked out, his face bright bright red. “And it’s okay if you only wanted to kiss me because it’s New Years or whatever but... I just wanted to tell you. That I think about you all the time. That I wait for you to call. That I stared at the door to this event for like an hour because I was waiting for you to show up. That I-“

You grabbed his tie and pulled him back to you, pulling his lips back to yours. He let out a whimper, but caught on quickly, hand going back to lightly stroke your hair, careful not to mess up the style you had worked on.

“It worked!”

You broke away from Yoosung, turning on your heel to glare at Zen and Seven, who were currently toasting to their success.

Yoosung was trying to stutter out some form of a remark, but failing. You continued to glare at them. “Go away. I have to kiss my boyfriend some more.”

“Your b-boyfriend?” Yoosung asked, hands shaking as he grabbed your hand and pulled you back to face him.

“If... you’d like. I love you too, Yoosung.”

He let go of your hand, grabbing the champagne glasses from the ground, pushing each into the hands of the boys staring at you. “Go put these away or something.” He was pushing them back through the door. “Leave us alone!!!”

“Have fun kiddos,” Seven teased, winking in your direction.

“Stay safe!” Zen called.

Yoosung hid his face in his hand momentarily after they left, groaning. “They always know how to ruin a moment.”

“That’s okay,” you grinned, grabbing his hand again and pulling him back in for another kiss. “Happy New Year my boyfriend.”

#mystic messenger #mysme #Yoosung kim

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shimmeringclouds · 3 years

Text

♔ | 𝐗𝐈

»»-----　♔　-----««

You were glad Jyushimatsu had chosen a more shaded route, or else you were sure you would have collapsed from the harsh heat by now. Ozo's hand had slipped into your own at some point, and when you noticed, you simply squeezed his hand lightly, smiling when he did the same.

"Just through here!" Jyushimatsu called, pushing away a small tuft of bushes and wandering through. You glanced at Ozo.

"Do you know where we are?"

"Yup. Trust me — you're gonna love it."

He took the lead, carefully manoeuvring you over the poking branches and fallen leaves, breaking through the darkly shaded area to a bright field, stretching far beyond the eye can see, rows and rows of soil filled with tall stalks of sunflowers, pointing their heads high towards the sun. They reached just up to your waist, surrounding you in a sweet scent.

You gasped softly, mouthing breaking into a wide gleeful smile. A bubble of laughter escaped your throat as you released your hold on Ozo's hand, running straight into the field. Your hands gently cupped the large yellow petals, running a finger over the soft texture, like velvet, bringing it close to take in its scent. You wandered in further until you were stood in the middle of the sea of flowers, twirling with a giggle as your eyes tried to soak in the beauty around you, sparkling and full of wonder.

You came to a stand still as a breeze flew over you, rustling your hair and stroking your skin. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, lost in the moment. It felt so peaceful, so calming, the kind of place you could only ever hope to find, and now you had found it.

"What d'ya think?"

Ozo's voice sounded from behind you as he slowly, carefully, wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. You tensed at first, then almost melted into his hold, leaning against his chest as your own hands came up to press against his.

"You were right; I do love it."

"Told you so," he grinned. His teasing tone murmured against your ear, the sound not unpleasant, and more comforting than anything. You relaxed further, sighing blissfully as you opened your eyes again, staring up into the clear sky.

Although it seemed like such a childish thought, you couldn't help but wish you could stay like this forever, free from any worries, with the wind pushing you forward and a warm hand as your guide.

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊

You pressed the cold can to your temple before opening it up, sighing deeply as the drink cooled your body.

After exploring the field for a while, you had decided to give your legs a break, seating yourself down on the green cut grass close to where you had entered the field. Ozo joined you, saying it was the perfect time to break out the drinks. Jyushimatsu, however, said that he would go exploring, to 'add more bugs to his collection.'

He took off before you could reply, leaving the two of you behind.

"Will Jyushimatsu be alright?" You asked after a moment. Ozo hummed, taking a swig of his drink.

"Yeah. He does this all the time, so there's nothin' to worry about. Instead..." he shuffled closer to you, shoulders practically touching as he grinned down at you, "Why don't you and I have a little chat?"

"Chat? About what?"

"Anything, and everything! I wanna know more about you!"

You blinked, chuckling wearily. "You wanna know about me? I'm really not that interesting..."

"C'mon, sure you are!" He nudged you. "I already have something I wanna ask you, anyway."

"Oh?" You raised a brow. "And what is it?"

"Are you single?"

Your eyes widened, spluttering for words at the sudden question. You looked away from his wide eyes, nibbling at your lower lip. Why had such a simple question flustered you this much? It wasn't fair, the effect this man has on you.

"Uh... Y-Yeah, I am..." you answered after a moment. "But why would you wanna know that?"

"'Cuz it means that I can actually have a shot with you!"

You whipped your head back around, staring at him with cheeks ablaze.

"W-What are you talking about? A shot with me?? Why would you want that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Ozo stared at you with a confused grimace. "I mean, look at you! You're so hot! Who wouldn't want you?!"

Your mouth was hanging open, unable to speak. Receiving such compliments, hearing such a confession... All things that you were a stranger to.

A strained silence passed before you sighed, averting your gaze to your lap.

"..Ozo, we've only just met. I doubt it's that quick to fall in love with someone, let alone me..."

'But weren't you feeling the same way only a few hours ago?'

"You put yourself down too much, [Y/N]." Ozo stated firmly. "I know what I'm saying, and I know that you're probably the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

You clutched your drink tighter in your hands, ignoring the prickling cold at your fingertips. A part of you knew that this was all moving way too fast for it to be possible. There was no such thing as 'love at first sight.' And yet... And yet, the other part of you wanted to give in so badly. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and say 'yes,' as if it were meant to be.

"...Can I... have some time to think about it?" It seemed to be the only rational thing to do.

Ozo, on the other hand, couldn't have been more thrilled to hear that. He was actually being considered, by you. He actually had a chance..! This was all too good to be true for him!

He smiled giddily as he leaned his shoulder against you, looking out into the sky, the sun lowering slowly, resting above the tips of the far away trees. His lips stretched wider as he felt you lean back onto him, hesitantly resting your head against his shoulder, allowing him to rest his cheek on the top of your head.

"Take as long as you need, sweetheart. I'll be here waiting' for ya'."

»»-----　♔　-----««

#osomatsu san #osomatsu x reader #ososan #ososan au #au #ozo akashika x reader #ozo akashika #osomatsu matsuno #osomatsu san hesokuri wars #hesowars au #denkimatsu #denki mystery #romance #sunflowers #sunflower field #confessions?#almost there #slow burn is burning

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mycove · 4 years

Text

Varigo Prompt on Discord

"Date night gone wrong”

Modern AU

First date.

Little did Varian know how much uncertainty, mystery and anguish could lurk inside those two words. The sun was setting already and there he was, a handful of minutes away from the big moment and he painfully felt he was losing control already. Although he just showered, his nape was damp with cold sweat, and he didn’t even dare check his shirt. Pathetic.

The fact that Hugo, pretending to be busy tinkering with his latest project, was stealing glances (and wasn’t even trying to be subtle) and was visibly relishing his nervous state didn’t help at all.

Granted, the lanky blonde had always been the most confident of the two. No matter where he went, no matter who he met, words seemed to come naturally to him, his whole being exuding with aplomb from head to toe. There was something close to seduction in his demeanor that made people fall under his spell unawares. But that, he, Varian, didn’t have the slightest shred of the beginning of similar social skills was just unfair.

Varian’s hands fumbled to button his vest and let out a groan when his trembling fingers didn’t comply. Irritation was growing in him, and fast. The whole ordeal was inexorably going wrong even before it started.

At long last, Hugo couldn’t help but feel sorry for the younger boy and walked over to that wreck he had for a roommate. He gently swatted Varian’s hands away from his chest before breaking the silence.

“Don’t you ever take those gloves off ? Would make this easier, you know ?” he said matter-of-factly, light mockery in his voice as he buttoned the vest successfully in no time.

“I almost got it…” Varian replied, looking down uncomfortably.

“Yeah, sure, you did” Hugo smirked. “You’re so nervous. She got under your skin, didn’t she ?”

For Varian, discomfort turned into sheer embarrassment and he felt a wave of heat rise to his face and up to the top of his ears. He turned his back to Hugo, hugging himself with one arm.

“I… I just hope I can impress her. So… so that she sees something in me. Something… special… that maybe she will like.” He remembered saying those words, years ago, to an older student he had a crush on. But he was young and naïve, back then. His awkwardness was, with luck, cute at the time, but now it was a burden. A curse. He gave a deep sigh and added under his breath. “Who am I fooling anyway ?”

“Wow… what a positive mindset, Hairstripe ! How on Earth did you even get this date ?”

“Um, because she asked me out ?” Varian answered sheepishly.

“Correct !” Hugo replied with a bright grin, unable to resist to tease the black-haired teen once again. “Which means she’s definitely into you. You’re in luck, pal, and wait… it gets better!”

“What do you mean ?” Varian asked, flinching at the thought of another of Hugo’s ideas coming up. For two equally nerdy science boys, they could be as different as sun and moon sometimes. And Hugo had proved over and over that he could come with the most incredible plans.

“Why, that I’m gonna teach you some of my tricks, of course,” Hugo announced proudly, like he was literally saving Varian’s life. “You’re welcome”, he added with a wink and a playful punch on Varian’s arm.

“Um… no, thanks, I’ll pass,” Varian warily replied, rubbing his arm. “I’m not like you, I can’t just waltz in and bewitch the girl with witty conversations and a charming smile. I’ll just go and… cross my fingers that nothing will go astray and not stay too long so she doesn’t have the opportunity to read through me completely, because then all she’d want to do would be to run away and never ask a boy like me for a date again.” Varian said this sentence in one quick shot, like he feared Hugo would interrupt him, and then loudly gasped for air, his level of stress worse than before.

Hugo scoffed and Varian winced at that. Visibly, all he could do was make people upset with him.

But Hugo wasn’t the one to give up so easily. He resumed his mischievous smile and started to walk slowly towards Varian, his eyes resolutely digging into his.

“Oooh, no… no you don’t…” Varian pleaded, knowing too well what was coming.

“Good evening…Milady”, he slurred in a way Varian could have sworn the older must have gotten from Eugene. “Allow me to take you to your most beautiful night ever”, he continued, bowing gracefully and picking Varian’s hand in his. There was something enthralling about his movements, controlled and meaningful like a dance. Varian felt that his hand was gently raised towards the older boy’s face and he started to panic, wondering why, just why he hadn’t pulled back yet, but Hugo stopped just one inch from his lips.

“Like so. Don’t actually kiss her hand. Then let it down as slowly as you took it.” Not giving a chance for Varian to say someting, Hugo placed himself next to him and flexed his arm by his side, his other hand behind his back.

“Stand straight. Let her wrap her arm around yours and start walking. With confidence.”

That was Varian’s cue, but he couldn’t help and feel a bit awkward about this. Oh well, he thought, the real thing can’t be more embarrassing than this, might as well get it over with.

So with a blush on his cheeks, Varian took Hugo’s arm. Oh, why did he have to feel hot again? It was all just an act.

Hugo was the best at that, Varian knew that much. He had always admired how the blonde could get things to go his way, just thanks to his techniques. And that was what they were. Techniques. Savoir faire. Nothing to do with feelings whatsoever. There was no reason to feel uncomfortable. Nor to enjoy the warmth of his arm against his. The closeness of his perfect face. The sweet smell he had grown accustomed to. Suddenly, all these everyday things were very close to him, and filling him up with a rush he couldn’t name but indulged himself in welcoming it anyway.

Almost imperceptibly, he tightened his grip on Hugo’s arm. And cursed himself immediately after, as the taller boy turned his head and looked down. Did he notice ?

They came to a halt – the living room wasn’t that big anyway. Varian was silently begging for Hugo to casually go on with his lesson and free him from his misery.

After a few seconds of silence, that seemed like an eternity, Hugo cleared his throat and pulled away.

“You’ll do great, Varian. Just be yourself. You’ll do great, I’m sure”, he said quickly, pushing his glasses onto the bridge of his nose with one finger before he turned on his heels and sat back at his desk.

“…. Okay,”, Varian murmured, his eyes on his roommate who was keeping his head down, hands already at work. Flustered, the younger boy went to get his shoes, put them on swiftly and left without another word. How was he supposed to focus on his date with a stomach in knots and a messed-up head ? The worst part was that, for a scientist, he didn’t have the slightest explanation for him feeling so confused and wrecked. The frustration alone made his eyes prick with tears and his cheeks feel cool in the evening breeze.

Back in the apartment, Hugo’s hands were toying aimlessly with the bits and bobs scattered in front of him. He couldn’t concentrate on his project anymore. His jaw gradually tensed as he tried to fight off every emotion to the back of his mind and failed. No, he wasn’t feeling anything, he couldn’t let it happen. He knew firsthand that caring could only hurt him. He was in control, he only showed his shy roommate how to impress the girl, and after all, that was his forte.

And Varian… Varian was nothing like him in this area. But Varian’s natural appeal was here and real, and so much stronger than any technique Hugo had mastered. To the point that he couldn’t deny him feeling a twinge of jealousy towards the one who was getting to spend the evening with the boy, his boy, and possibly take him away from him.

Hugo huffed as he felt he had been caught by his own trap. He had been wearing self-confidence as a mask, and Varian broke the mask, just like that. Maybe it was time to give in and let those feelings in. He leaned back and let out a sigh of contentment as he closed his eyes to allow himself to revive the memory of a certain boy bashful holding on to him, and found himself only wishing for more.

Yup, this date night was definitely going to be a disaster. It already was.

#tangled the series #varigo #varian and hugo #fanfiction

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