#and you think about how all of her promises and morals have flown out the window | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

callsignthirsty · 2 years

Note

Listen: cyclone and you have been dating forever but everytime he comes home ranting about Pete Mitchell and his idiotic decisions you can’t help but wonder what other idiotic decisions he would make in the bedroom. And because Beau what’s everything for his girl - he’s willing it make it happen.

Hey Sunny — Okay. So. The sailor sandwich fic. It’s finally here. I hope it’s everything your thirsty little heart wanted ❤️

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x F!Reader x Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Word Count: 6000 Warnings: Smut, possessive Cyclone, Mav following the rules, then Mav breaking the rules, piv with and without a condom (wrap it before you tap it!) Minors DNI

Sailor Sandwich

Iceman would be rolling over in his grave laughing if he knew, but Cyclone really hopes he doesn't. This is Ice's fault, anyway — bringing Maverick back to North Island when they both knew he was a shitty teacher the first time.

He'd hoped some tension would've eased once the mission was flown. That hope, however, had been quickly dashed. It wasn't anything against Maverick personally until it very suddenly was. Because Pete "Maverick" Mitchell was everything Iceman had promised he'd be, but in all the worst ways. And he hadn't strictly kept those thoughts to himself.

Cyclone has been complaining about Admiral Kazansky's pet pilot for weeks, and you have been there to listen every night when he gets home. Warlock should send you flowers because Cyclone knows that the Rear Admiral can only take so much, and he seems to have worked with Mitchell before.

And Jesus, Cyclone is getting a headache just thinking about this getting out to Warlock. Because Cyclone, to put it in the simplest terms, doesn't want this. But he hadn't been able to say 'no.'

The problem began where most of Cyclone's do: when he makes a very stupid, very avoidable mistake. The particular day's infraction? He forgot his lunch at home. And you — his darling girlfriend, love of his life, and perfect angel who has never done anything wrong, ever — decided to bring it to him. Typically, this would lead to a pleasant lunch in his office, a sweet kiss, and Cyclone would return to his day with a rare smile.

But, well, Maverick.

Now, Cyclone doesn't believe that Maverick knew you were his girl when he started hitting on you. Even Mitchell had a moral compass. And frankly, Cyclone can't blame him — except that he can and he absolutely will. Because when Cyclone arrives on the scene, Maverick is laying it on thick and has you practically wrapped around his little finger.

It had been an awkward night, to say the least, but Cyclone couldn't bring himself to deny you anything. Especially not when you asked so pretty and gave him that look. Which is precisely how he'd ended up booking three consecutive rooms at the Grand Hyatt with you sitting on the bed and Maverick knocking on the door.

Cyclone moves to stand between you and Maverick when the door shuts. "If we're going to do this–" and god help him because you were "–there are going to be rules." Maverick looks like he wants to roll his eyes, but he resists. Whether because he knows it's childish or for Cyclone's benefit is up for debate, and Cyclone chooses to focus his glare on him. "Number one: if she says 'stop' for any reason, you stop." Maverick nods. "Number two: You want to touch my girl–"

Without missing a beat, Maverick shoots you a cocky wink. "I think we can all agree that I'm here because she wants me to touch her."

"–you will do exactly as I say. No veering off-script."

"Should I submit my requests in writing, Admiral?"

Cyclone chooses to ignore him. "Number three: no kissing."

"At all?"

"C'mon, Beau," you say from your spot at the edge of the bed. "He's got to kiss me a little bit."

"Yeah, Beau."

"If you kiss her lips, you're done," Cyclone practically growls. There's no room for argument. No bargaining his way into more. Give Maverick an inch, and he'll steal a multimillion-dollar jet.

"Fine," Maverick agrees.

"And no marks."

"That rule number four?"

"No. It's a non-negotiable part of rule three."

"Hey." You stand from the bed, cup your boyfriend's cheek and give him a sweet kiss that's meant to calm, but Cyclone remains stiff as a board. "We won't do anything you aren't comfortable with."

Cyclone hesitates, and you clock the reaction just like you pin a name to the emotion swimming in green eyes: unease. Instead of telling you that he isn't comfortable with any of this, that you're his and he doesn't want to share, he says: "That's why we have rules."

Your eyes follow your boyfriend's as they once again land on Maverick, who is trying to act casual. Brushing your thumb over his cheekbone, you bring Beau's attention back to you. "Don't think about anyone else." Easier said than done, you know, so when he opens his mouth to object, you cut him off with a gentle "It's just you and me right now" as your eyes drift to linger on his lips. "Just do what you'd normally do."

And that sounds a little too much like the don't think, just do that Cyclone keeps hearing over the comms, but then your hands are in his regulation short hair, and you've tipped onto your toes for a kiss. Getting lost in your kiss is practically second nature at this point. Cyclone lets his mind go blank, hands that know your body better than his own landing on your lower back and gently pulling you in. He tilts his head to the side and slots his lips against your own, feeling the way that your smile curls and your breaths quicken.

And Maverick is being so uncharacteristically quiet that it's easy to forget that he's in the room. Until he clears his throat, and the illusion is shattered.

You eye Maverick, intrigued. From the way that Cyclone's hands clench, you hazard that his look is far more irritated. Maverick, though, looks hungry. Eyes rake over you, vintage bomber jacket hugging him in all the right ways, aviators tugging down the collar of his t-shirt. Just as you think that you wouldn't mind Mav having a taste, Cyclone lets you go. Your eyes follow him as he sits at the standard-issue desk near the foot of the bed.

"Permission to engage?" It's sarcastic but not unkind. You roll your eyes anyway.

Cyclone must be surprised, but the only thing that gives it away is the rise of a single brow. "Permission granted."

Maverick crosses the no man's land between the threshold and the bed in three quick steps, then he's all up in your space. And he's so different from your boyfriend, a mechanic-rough hand cupping the curve of your jaw and drawing you close enough that you're worried he's about to break a rule right off the bat — after all, Maverick isn't known to be a rule follower. He stops just short of your lips but breathing in your air. "Normally, this is the part where I'd kiss you," he husks, and you gulp because you definitely want him to. "But I think I'll see how far playing by the rules gets me."

Chapped lips brush over your cheek, down to your jaw, and you sigh. You moan at the light scrape of teeth as he trails down your neck to your collarbone, lips taking your skin with gentle pressure.

"Mitchell." A warning.

Maverick releases your collarbone with a wet noise. "No marks." He steps away from you and tips your jaw up so Cyclone can rake his eyes over you to assess any perceived damages. Anything that can be left behind. All the while, your skin grows cold where Maverick's spit lingers, the disappearance of his body heat leaving you chilled. When he gets a nod to continue, Maverick takes you by surprise. You fall onto the bed with a surprised squawk, bouncing on the mattress.

"Rule number 2," Cyclone snaps.

"I do what you say."

"Did I tell you to push her onto the bed?"

"No."

Cyclone's fingers steeple the way they usually do when he's agitated. "So what were you doing?"

Maverick's green eyes lock with yours, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. "Can't kiss her lips, so I was going to get my mouth on something else." You moan, a thrill racing up your spine and thighs clamping together to relieve some of the pressure that's building up there.

Cyclone's eyes harden, and he leans forward in his seat. "Exactly as I say. Are we clear?" Maverick nods. "Take off her shirt." Maverick shrugs out of his bomber, letting it crumple to the floor as he pushes your shirt up until it bunches in your armpits. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" Cyclone asks, but he doesn't expect a response. He knows you're beautiful. Maverick knows you're beautiful — that's what started this whole mess.

Maverick dips down like he wants to put his lips on all of your freshly revealed skin. "Can I–"

"No," Cyclone cuts him off. "Take off her shirt." Maverick pouts but complies. He lifts the shirt over your head with a bit of help from you, and now you can feel where he's beginning to fill out his jeans. "Now, her bra."

A single hand reaches around your back, and you feel your bra come undone. Maverick looks up at Cyclone, his hands carefully avoiding you though you can feel the heat radiating off him. Can feel his need to touch. "What now?"

"Touch her."

Maverick doesn't need to be told twice. His hands are on you. Running up and down your sides, thumbing over your nipples until they pebble, pressing kisses right above the waist of your jeans. You sigh into each new caress. Then his hands move further down, kneading at your jean-clad thighs and scratching at the sturdy cotton twill until you shiver at the faux-cool sensation.

He's propelled up at your gasp, lips finding their way up to your nipple as his hips settle against yours, and the friction of jean-on-jean lights your clit aflame.

"Pants." The instruction gives Maverick pause. He bites his lip like you wish you could.

"Hers or mine?"

Cyclone's lips twitch like he's pleased that Maverick asks. Like the simple question proves that Maverick is actually going to play nice, for once. Like he's the slightest bit reassured. "Hers." And when Maverick's fingers first brush embossed metal: "Slowly."

Going slow is as much torture for you as it is for Maverick, but he's staying true to his word and seeing how far following orders will get him. He plays with the pull of your zipper before dragging it down one tooth at a time. You bridge your hips to help him kick your pants onto the floor. Your panties, however, remain because Cyclone hadn't said anything about them one way or the other. They're cute, lace trimmed and delicate but nothing special; you don't want your boyfriend thinking that you've dressed up for the occasion. Special or not, Maverick appreciates them if his groan is anything to go by.

His head thunks against your hip bone. "What about her panties?"

"Leave them." So the lace stays. Clinging to your hips. Then Maverick looks up at you from between your legs, his eyes tracing from your lips (still red and puffy from Cyclone's kiss) down to the fabric stained dark at the apex of your thighs. He licks his lips as his stubbled cheek nuzzles against the inside of your knee. Calloused hands run up and down the outside of your legs.

"Aw, sweetheart," Maverick purrs. "Already so wet." You spread your legs shamelessly, not the slightest bit self-conscious about how Maverick and your boyfriend are both still wearing their clothes.

"Don't touch," Cyclone says when Maverick reaches up toward your core. Instead of taking it back, Maverick lets his hand hang there for a second like he's thinking about touching anyway. But then Maverick brings it down on your leg, massaging circles into the sensitive flesh of your upper thigh with his thumb to keep himself from doing anything reckless. "Make her feel good, but don't touch her pussy."

Maverick stands back to take his shirt off, undoes and takes off his belt but doesn't reach for the button or zipper as he toes off his shoes. Then he's between your thighs, fingers roaming up to play with the flimsy fabric of your panties and tickle high up on your thighs, but never coming close to scratching your itch. Lips and tongue tracing up from your knee almost to the seat of your panties and drawing in a deep breath, his heady groan sending little waves of pleasure straight to your pulsing cunt.

"What do you know," Cyclone muses after some time of watching Maverick flawlessly follow his orders, "you can teach an old dog new tricks." You aren't entirely sure whether or not Maverick heard him. Regardless, his head stays buried between your thighs, kissing and licking just shy of soaked lace and breathing in deep, a hand coming down to palm himself.

"Beau." His name is a whine on your lips as Maverick continues to rub the inside of your thighs raw on his cheeks while dutifully avoiding what you need the most.

"What, baby?"

You arch your back, trying to shove your hips closer to Maverick's roaming tongue, but to no avail. "Please."

"Please, what?"

"Let him touch me."

"He is touching you." And there's no way to hide all of the disdain that leaks into the simple fact as he glares at Maverick hunched between your thighs. But he relents. "Mitchell." Maverick sits up to look at Cyclone, his lips pink and breathing the slightest bit sped up. "I believe you said something about putting that mouth to work."

Maverick swallows, Adam's apple bobbing. "I did."

"Well," Cyclone gestures to the bed, to you, "get to it, then."

Maverick doesn't waste a second taking your underwear off, just thumbs it to the side and dives right in. You both groan from the first touch of Maverick's tongue to your slick folds. "Taste so good, sweetheart," he rumbles. Another desperate noise slips past your lips at the praise, your back bowing at the sudden, electric touch after so much teasing.

And Maverick is ravenous. You can feel it in the way his hands press your legs up and further apart so that he can sink his tongue further into your pussy, lick at your walls, and moan as his lashes flutter. The way his nose nudges against your clit until you're rolling against his lips with your head tossed back and hair spilled across the pillows. "That's it," he husks as you grind against his face, loving the dichotomy of smooth tongue and rough cheeks. You're on the cusp, your cunt buzzing with each new touch, but you need more. "Don't worry, sweetheart," Maverick murmurs, a hand releasing your hip and trailing down until a thick finger prods at your entrance and presses in, "I've gotcha." And he does because that's it. That's perfect. You press into his finger and his mouth, see the light at the end of the tunnel and feel your walls begin to squeeze down around him and–

"That's enough."

With a reluctant groan, Maverick releases you. He turns to say something but is hit with a box of assorted condoms. "Oh," Maverick says, looking at the box like he isn't entirely sure what he's expected to do with it. Like, aren't we a little old for this? He tries to return the box to Cyclone. "I'm clean."

"That is so not the point." There is abso-fucking-lutely no way in hell that Cyclone will let Maverick raw-dog his girlfriend.

Breaking the seal on the box, Maverick cards through the condoms. He kicks the rest of his clothes off as he rips one of the foils open and rolls it onto himself, spitting into his palm to slick over the latex and give himself a little relief. And you can't help but stare as the rest of him is revealed to you: all golden skin and well-hewn muscle from years in the cockpit. And for a small guy, he sure had a big cock.

"How are we doing this?" Forest green eyes are on you, but the question is undoubtedly for Cyclone — he's the one running the show.

"On her hands and knees," Cyclone says with certainty as if he'd already thought about it — about how missionary was too intimate and spooning was too soft. "I want her to look at me while you fuck her." Maverick rearranges you until you're on your knees. Bent over the bed, resting on your forearms with your ass in the air.

You can't help but look at Maverick over your shoulder, giving your ass a cheeky shake when you catch him staring, but Cyclone brings your attention back to himself with a gentle command — always so gentle with you. "Eyes on me, darling."

Then, he's giving Maverick the okay.

If given the time, you'd be able to go on and on about how Maverick's hands fit on your hips. But you're not. Maverick gives you a split second, then he's slowly sinking into you, and your mind blanks. "Fuck, sweets," he groans through gritted teeth. "So fucking tight 'n hot. No wonder Cyclone wanted to keep you all to himself." You moan helplessly at the stretch and his praise, eyes threatening to close as you fight to keep them locked on Beau. You aren't sure if you're burning from the desire or the shame of how much you like Maverick fucking into you while Beau watches, has been watching this whole time.

Eventually, Maverick's hips press snug to your ass. You can't help that your thighs quiver at the stretch, and your walls clench around him in sweet anticipation.

"Wait," Cyclone commands from his throne.

"Yeah," Maverick says, but it sounds like it's been punched out of him. Like he's a little breathless. Like you have as much of an effect on him as he has on you. "That's not going to be a problem." You clench down on him again — on purpose this time, just to be cheeky — and delight in the shiver that runs up Mav's legs.

Maverick leans down to kiss your shoulder, only to back away when Cyclone shoots him a look. His hands shift uncertainly at your sides, petting you and rubbing reassurances into your skin, fingers following his eyes to where you're joined and running a finger over your stretched pussy lips. Slowly, you begin to relax beneath him, Cyclone's eyes no longer boring into Maverick's and, instead, lingering on your face. And it's without looking at him that Cyclone finally gives Maverick permission for takeoff.

Except, Maverick still isn't really in control.

Yes, Maverick is inside of you. Stretching and filling you deliciously, but Cyclone is the one to set the pace. A slow in-and-out that serves to wind you both up more than it does satisfy the want that's been building in your loins. The odds were always stacked against him from the beginning. Maverick was bound to break eventually. And he does, spectacularly, when you shove against him with a high-pitched keen.

Sunkissed hips cant back, strong hands pulling you into the next thrust, each faster and firmer than the last. Maverick leans down, delivering a nip to the base of your neck that stings delectably. You rock with the motion of it, lips falling open as Maverick gets a couple glorious thrusts in that make your eyes roll before Cyclone seizes the reins once more.

"Mitchell." It's nearly a shout. Cyclone's hands white-knuckle the arms of the desk chair. Maverick's hips stutter to a stop as he gets ahold of himself.

You whimper beneath Maverick. You want to push back against him, desperate for stimulation. For someone to fuck you, to fill you. But, something in the clench of Cyclone's jaw tells you it's best to stay still.

"Since you can't do what you're told…." You watch, thighs trembling as Cyclone reaches down. You hadn't noticed the bag sitting in the shadow of the desk, but he's tossing something onto the bed. Cool metal lands on downy sheets. "Lie down," Cyclone directs at Maverick. His tone leaves no room for argument. "Hands above your head." You're not surprised when Maverick doesn't move and Cyclone's eyes simply shift to you. "Cuff him to the headboard."

"Wait," Maverick says, slipping from your warmth to sit on his heels as you take the cuffs in hand. "You're serious?"

"Rule number two," Cyclone recites, "you want to touch my girl, you do exactly as I say. What part of that didn't you understand, Captain?"

"The part where–"

"Because I think I was pretty clear."

"Is this another one of those laws as immutable as gravity?"

The muscle in Cyclone's jaw ticks. "Cuffs or leave. Your choice." Beau may be a pushover when it comes to you, but Cyclone isn't known to bluff. You watch the two of them with rapt curiosity and a growing discomfort as the tension builds to fill the room. Finally, Maverick caves and flops back onto the bed. When you turn to look, his hands are above his head.

You take the key from Cyclone's outstretched hand, then crawl up the bed to work the metal tight around Maverick's wrist before looping it around the corner beam of the sturdy wooden headboard and securing the second cuff. It doesn't look comfortable, but you can imagine that Maverick has been in tighter spots. Honestly, you're a little disappointed that the cuffs haven't been used on you, but there will be time for that later.

For the first time since he took his seat at the desk, Cyclone moves. He settles on the other side of the bed, leaning against the headboard so he can see your face, but he's purposely avoiding looking at Maverick. "Do you think you can ride him?" he asks. You nod with a pitiful noise, your cunt clenching around nothing and feeling empty just at the thought. "Alright." He nods for you to get to it.

You straddle Maverick's lap, run your hands up his chest and scrape your nails down, down, down until he's arching into the pain. Then, you line him up and sink onto him with a satisfied groan, head thrown back as your ass rests on his thighs. You grind against him for a minute, getting used to being on top and a feel for his cock so much deeper inside of you; then you rise up and let gravity bring you crashing down. Maverick moans, his cheeks flushing pink and mouth hanging open as you work up to a fast pace. Much faster than Cyclone had allowed your first time around. "Jesus– fuck," he curses. "Look so good bouncing on my cock, sweetheart."

More praise tumbles from his lips, and just when you can feel your orgasm growing low in your belly, hands grip your hips. You stutter out of sync.

When has Cyclone moved from the headboard?

Maverick's eyes blink open and settle curiously over your shoulder as Cyclone guides your hips in a much slower rhythm, one that has you whining in protest. This isn't nearly enough, but Cyclone knows that, and it's all that he'll let you have. "There you go, baby," he murmurs against the shell of your ear, and you wish he'd lick it, but he doesn't. "Nice and slow. Can you do that for me?"

You nod, gulping. Sure, you want Maverick, but you'll always want to be good for Beau. Even though everything in you screams to go fast, to chase that glorious high, you force yourself to move to the beat of Cyclone's drum, jolting each time Maverick strikes that spot inside of you that makes you see stars but knowing that you're not allowed to chase that feeling.

Cyclone's hands return to your hips more than once to slow you back down as you subconsciously begin to speed up.

"Beau," you whimper.

"What, baby?"

"I wanna cum." You can feel it simmering low in your gut, but it's still too far away. Too far out of your grasp. "I can't–"

"I know." He leans in and takes your earlobe between his teeth, and a shiver races up your spine. "'Cause only I can make you cum."

"But I need–"

Cyclone brushes your hair back so he can press a gentle kiss to the skin where your neck meets your jaw. "If you want to cum, it'll be on my dick. My tongue. My hand. Not his," he spits out the last bit without sparing Maverick so much as a glance.

Maverick opens his mouth to say something clever–

"If you want to cum, I suggest you keep it to yourself."

–and closes it with an impudent glare, but the effect is ruined by his exertion-pink cheeks and the clench of his jaw each time you take him to the root. Then, the next time you try to drop onto Maverick's cock, Cyclone's hands stop you. You look over your shoulder with a question on your lips, but his eyes are on Maverick.

"Fuck her."

Maverick doesn't. From the corner of your eye, you can see that he's just as confused as you. "What?"

"You heard me," Cyclone says, his hands increasing their grip on you until you're sure there will be bruises in the morning. "That's what you wanted, right?" And his tone is mean, but his words are true.

Maverick shifts beneath you to plant his feet against the pillowtop mattress and thrusts up. Gently at first. As if he's testing that Cyclone really means it, really wants him to fuck you. But Cyclone just holds you steadily above him. Then, because Cyclone has let him have full rein or because Maverick's a little too far gone to care, he lets out a needy moan and picks up a fast and dirty pace.

Your back arches, nails digging into Maverick's chest. "He's getting close, isn't he, baby?" Cyclone says, his forehead pressed to your sweat-slick temple as he holds you at just the right height for Maverick to hammer into you. Lets the Captain use you to chase his own pleasure.

"Don't talk about me," Maverick pants, "as if I'm not here."

But Cyclone ignores him. "You can feel it, can't you?" he continues in your ear. "How badly he wants to cum." Your thighs jiggle as Maverick increases his speed, his cock finding your sweet spot and slamming into it over and over until you're practically howling. "What do you want?"

You don't even have to think about it. Don't have the brainpower to think of much else right now. "Wanna cum."

"Not now," Cyclone snaps. "Not with him. He's just a pretty tool, baby. What do you want?" All that comes out the next time you open your mouth is a strung-out mewl. "Want Mitchell to cum so I can fuck you?"

"Yes," you hiss, clenching around Maverick's cock at Cyclone's words.

"Fuck!"

"Ask him nicely," Cyclone murmurs, his eyes sharp as he catches the hand that darts toward your clit.

"Mav, fuck. Cum for me. Please, please, please."

That's all it takes for Maverick to lose it. His thrusts grow sloppy, the cuffs rattling against the headboard as he flexes his arms and arches into you as he finally breaks, filling the condom with a strangled groan. His eyes closed and head thrown back as his hips stutter to a stop. He's oversensitive, jerking as your hips follow his to the bed.

Usually, you'd be more sympathetic, but Maverick had gotten off, and you still haven't.

He'd gotten you so close at the end, his hips pistoning into yours, pressing against your sweet spot each time, and then… nothing. Cyclone hadn't let you finish yourself off.

You don't have too much time to dwell on it.

Cyclone's grip on your hips changes. Maverick hisses as Cyclone snatches you off his sensitive, softening cock and bends you over so that your face is stuffed into Maverick's tits. Cyclone wastes no time ripping off his belt and pushing his slacks down far enough to get his dick out. Then, he's rutting into you with a sharp thrust that has you keening.

Maverick gasps and tries to jerk away, but you're pressed tight to him. Your middle rubbing against his overstimulated cock as Cyclone sets a brutal pace. One hand fisted in your hair and pulling back so your moans aren't caught against Maverick's chest. "Yeah, baby? That good?"

"Yes."

"Tell him." The hand releases your hair and instead presses down on your neck until your cheek is pressed into Maverick's chest as Cyclone's hips snap into yours. "Tell him how good I make you feel."

You do what you can to look up at Maverick with Cyclone's hand burning against the back of your neck. "'S so good. Fuck!" Cyclone smacks your ass with his free hand, and that's harder than he usually plays with you.

"Come on, darling. You can do better than that," he goads. Jaw clenched. Eyes sharp.

"Beau!" Your eyes are glassy as they meet Maverick's. "Fuck. So good."

"Looks like I've fucked the words out of her," Cyclone says, smug. "What's your excuse?"

Maverick doesn't have anything to say, possibly for the first time in his life. Brows bunching and drawing down to wrinkle his nose. His dick wasn't ready for this. For your face shoved into his chest. Moaning so sweetly in his face but just out of reach. If only he were younger, but he isn't — and though his dick twitches in a valiant effort to get hard again way too soon, everything about his current situation is too much.

Cyclone startles when you jerk away from a particularly rough thrust with a soft cry, your head turning to peek at him over your shoulder, tears collecting in the corner of your eyes. And he realizes that he's been gripping your hips way too hard, little half-moons marking the spots where his short nails had dug into your soft skin. What had he let himself slip into?

Beau pulls back gently and gathers you in his arms as he picks you up off Maverick and lays you down atop the cool sheets on the other side of the bed. On your back, this time, as he wipes away the tears that still threaten to fall from your lashes. He presses slow kisses into each angry mark framing your hips, then up to your neck. When his lips finally find yours, it's soft. The kiss tastes like love and an apology, and you can't help but melt into it as your fingers trace up Beau's arms and around his shoulders.

He stays poised over you, massaging your thighs and only abandoning his gentle kisses to pull his shirt over his head and kick off his slacks. Then, he asks if you're ready and, at your nod, pushes into you gently, capturing your lower lip between his own as you gasp. He knows that you're close — he's kept you there all night — but he lowers himself on top of you until your chests are pressed together, and you're sharing the same breath through your noses, lips brushing together and your heel tracing a line up the back of his leg.

Once he's dizzy from breathing you in and your heart flutters against his ribs, he moves. Your head tips back, so he mouths at your jaw, lets himself taste the salt on your skin, feels the breath as it escapes your lungs in a silent plea, and you tremble in his arms. He's kept you on the cusp for too long; he knows that. You're not going to last long, but that's okay. He doesn't need you to. He just needs you.

"Tell me what you need, princess." His earlier questions were bitten out, but this one washes over you like silk. Wraps around you and draws you further under his spell. Your head lolls, turns to the side, but before you can catch Maverick's eyes — which isn't your intent — Beau is turning you back to him with gentle fingers on your chin. "Eyes on me." He kisses your forehead. "I've got you."

You whimper. Needy and in love and so very far gone for this man who would give you the world if you asked. "Beau."

"I know." He licks at the corner of your lips, follows it up with a small kiss. "What do you need, baby?"

You need to cum, but you don't know how to put it into words, your thoughts loose and your tongue looser. So you settle on: "Please."

"Shh," Beau soothes. "I know what you need." He presses one last kiss to your lips before pushing up onto his forearms. "I'll take care of you." You mewl when he rolls his hips into the cradle of yours, still gentle but firm. Confident and caring and perfect. Moves like Maverick isn't in the room. Isn't still on the bed with his wrists bound and cock spent.

Your fingers scramble for purchase along Beau's back, nails pinching as you attempt to drag him in for another kiss, but he resists so he can look at your face. The way your heavy lids threaten to close as pleasure takes you and your lips twitch and your brows crinkle. "So good for me," Cyclone whispers like it's a secret he's letting you in on, and you shudder, goosebumps rising along your arms, nipples taught and tingling where he brushes against them with each sway of your bodies.

You reach your peak with Beau's name on your lips and he doesn't last much longer, pressing your mouths together with a grunt as he shudders through his own high.

You're still catching your breath, limbs pleasantly fuzzy, when Maverick speaks up to let you both know that he's losing feeling in his fingers. In response, Cyclone kisses your cheek and suggests that you go and get a shower started in your room. "I'll be there soon," he assures you as you grab your clothes and disappear through the door that adjoins this room to the room you and Beau will be sleeping in, careful to leave the door ajar for him.

You've just stepped beneath the spray when you hear the heavy adjoining door shut, followed by the rattle of the chain lock. Then, cold air rushes in to replace the steam that the bathroom door yawns away, and Beau joins you. He gathers you in his arms and hugs you close, your back to his front, and you relax into him. Together, you stand under the warm spray, unmoving until Beau squeezes some of the hotel's expensive shampoo into his palm and begins working it into your hair. It lathers as he runs his fingers over your scalp in a gentle massage that never fails to lull you into a half-sleep. Floating somewhere high and loved and not entirely in your own body. Once he's done, he slowly turns you, tips your head into the spray to get rid of the suds, then goes through the same process with the conditioner before he grabs a soft washcloth and runs it over you gently.

Before he can wrap his hands around you, you turn to hug him, your face pillowed against his collarbone and over his steadily beating heart. "You know I love you, right?" Because this shower isn't for you, it's reassurance. It's for Beau. He hesitates before bringing one of his arms to wrap around your shoulders, the other hanging low, weighed down by the wet washcloth as water cascades over you both.

You try to gather all your love for him and put it into your eyes. Because you need Beau to know that Maverick was fun, but he — Beau — is it for you.

"I know," he says softly, but it echoes off the tile anyway.

"And nothing will ever change that."

The kiss on your forehead feels like thank you as Beau hugs you the slightest bit tighter. Holding you close until your skin begins to prune.

That night, you fall asleep in the middle of a movie, Beau's shirt falling off your shoulder as you curl further into him beneath the luxurious hotel linens and draped in his love.

Maverick is the furthest thing from your mind.

404 notes · View notes

teasty · 3 years

Text

irresistible || h.hj (m)

a/n: yess fuck boy hyunjin ftw ngl,,,,i’m so in love with that idea,, especially with his long hair (i actually got into skz cuz of hyunjin’s hair lol i love longish hair on men)

● pairing: hwang hyunjin x (fem) reader

● genre: angsty n smutty (mdi!) | crack lol | enemies to lovers!au | college!au | nonidol!au

● requested? yes!

● words: 9k

● summary: You despise Hwang Hyunjin with a passion. And he just hates you right back. You’re a good, moral student while he fucks around with everybody. He likes to pull at heartstrings while you like to pull at his palm tree hairdo. There’s nothing that makes you like the other, but when you wind up at the old art room with him and things get heated up, you see a softer, truer and more broken side to him.

Is falling in love with someone you've hated for years in the span of one night even possible? Apparently so...

i miss him so much don't @ me

“You’re too irresistible not to fuck until you're screaming my name and begging for more.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Hyunjin, or I’ll tear your stupid hair out of your head,” you threaten darkly. The ever so proud Hyunjin only scoffs, laughing mockingly at you as he shoves his hands into his pockets. He crouched down to be at eye level with you. Despite you being much smaller than him, you still stood your group, even tripped over on the floor, your once organized papers sprawled out on the floor.

“I’d like to see you try, princess,” Hyunjin’s brow raises, and your lips downturn into even more of a frown. You would never, ever dare to start a physical fight with Hyunjin, but boy you can talk. Sometimes, your mouth might even be a little bit too big for your own liking. The words just flow out so naturally, and you don’t even realize it to actually stop it from flowing off of your tongue.

It was your dumb mouth that started this whole mess, anyways. Back in the last few years of high school, your best friend (who, in the end, turned out to be the fakest bitch you’ve ever met) had gotten with a boy. A boy you had no clue even went to the school. And, that’s when you met Hwang Hyunjin at lunch that day. In all his short - haired glory. At first, he seemed pretty decent, but you knew something was off about him from the start. Sure, he had a bright smile that could make any girl with a brain filled with boys faint, but he just didn’t sit too right with you. The way he acted around your friend (at the time) and the way he’d talk to her and other girls.

At first, you didn’t think he was a fuckboy, but it was when he tried to get in your pants after you called him a fuckboy after school one day when it hit you. That was the first and only day you really punched him in the face. Giving him a black and blue bruise on his cheekbone from the impact when he tried to take your clothes off, not caring whether or not you said it was alright or not. Of course, he got mad at you, but didn’t lay a hand on you, like you thought he would. You remember bracing your body for some sort of punch, kick or push, but nothing came other than Hyunjin’s loud voice screaming curses at you and calling you all - too vulgar and hurtful names.

You would have apologized if you weren’t so upset with the fact that he tried to be your first fuck. Your virginity isn’t the most precious thing to you, but you promised yourself you wouldn’t allow yourself to lose it to Hwang Hyunjin. Especially not after that day he actually tried to fuck you behind the school. You went running to your friend afterwards. Who, to your surprise, got mad at you for trying to make her boyfriend cheat on her with you. You couldn’t believe her, and you dropped her right there.

It was actually Hyunjin who broke up with her, having her come running to you with tears in her eyes about how upset she is that Hyunjin broke up with her. Of course, you didn’t react and only ignored her for… the rest of her life so far. She eventually gave up on trying to be friends with you, and went her own direction. However, Hyunjin didn’t leave you alone.

You can swear that he’s vowed to make your life living hell after you rejected him with your fist. At first, it was just teasing. Calling you names. Making fun of stupid mistakes. Sometimes even flirting with you just to make you mad. And no matter how many times you seemed to reject, verbally or physically, he never gave. Maybe he doesn’t try to get in your pants anymore, but he won’t stop calling you stupid nicknames when he’s being a dick to you… like “princess, baby, babygirl, darling, honey, sweetheart.” Stupid, meaningless nicknames to call you just to pull at both your heartstrings and your thin line of patience.

You weren’t so friendly to call him bittersweet names like that. You decided to go with a more aggressive route of, “dickhead, motherfucker, bitch, asshole, asshat, shithead” and other conjugations of any curse word you could think of. Of course, none of it fazed him one bit. In fact, it all seemed to amuse him. Like your anger was his entertainment, and that idea pissed you off.

You’ve had friends tell you to “Just not give him the attention since that’s what he wants!” But, that was the most difficult thing to do when Hyunjin was always following behind you, yet always a step ahead. Everywhere you end up, he’s somehow ironically there, too. Everywhere you plan to go, he’s somehow, ironically, planning to go there, too. Sometimes you debate if he’s stalking, but you don’t have much social media (nor do you post anything if you did) and you made sure to always keep away from the name Hyunjin just in case it’s the Hyunjin.

But, now, you’re sitting on your ass like an idiot, papers flown around you as Hyunjin crouches down in front of you. Almost as if peering down at his prey. His judgemental eyes scan your trembling figure, shaking from the pent up anger, up and down as he smirks like the little devil he is.

You’d been running back to your classroom, having to collect papers for your professor from the teacher’s lounge. She specifically asked for them to be organized by date, and you spent a few well - focused and frustrating minutes organizing the papers. Of course, as you were running through the supposedly empty hall, looking down at your phone to check the time to make sure you’ll have enough time before the end of the class period, you slammed face first into Hyunjin’s chest. Knocking him off of his balance, but catching himself on the wall, and sending you flying back and the papers to fly out of your arms, all your hard work scattered around you as you glare up at him with a deadly look in your eyes.

“Oh…” Hyunjin smiles down at you, leaning against the wall. His brows creasing up in a fake worry, his bottom lip jutting out in a mocking pout, staining his handsome face with the pathetic expression, “Poor baby… Do you need help picking up your papers?” He asks in a high pitched voice, and you try to hold back the urge to kick him right in the balls.

“Don’t fuck with me, Hyunjin,” you growl out darkly, and Hyunjin’s eyes widen and his fake, bitter smile widens in a pathetic imitation of shock and hurt, “Or I’ll tear your stupid hair out of your head.” You shamelessly threaten, both of you knowing you’re probably not going to even try to rip Hyunjin’s gorgeous hair for his scalp.

Hyunjin gets up off of the wall and walks over to you, you sitting on your ass with a glare that could spew daggers, and he crouches in front of you. His elbows on his knees, and he peers down at you like a predator stalking over its prey, ready to pounce at any second. He scans you, his half lidded, judgemental eyes peering over your body, heavily hidden by your black leggings and dark blue hoodie that was two sizes too big.

“I’d like to see you try, princess,” Hyunjin cocks a brow at you, his eyes finally landing on your dark ones.

“Don’t call me that, dickhead,” you spit right back, but he only chuckles darkly, his head falling briefly before he lifts his head up again. Shaking it slightly as he critically smiles at you, his mocking laugh making you feel small and weak.

“That’s a no - can - do. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, alright? Princess?” Hyunjin’s face dips down, nearing yours. You do the first thing you think of, grabbing a handful of papers, wrinkling them and throwing them with full force at Hyunjin’s face. He flinches back and stands up, swatting away the papers quickly. “Fucking hell! You scared me for a second there.”

“Good, now piss off. I have places to be. And shouldn’t you be in class?” You grumble as you collect the papers, trying your best to get them as organized as possible in your arms, making sure to keep a tight grip on them in case Hyunjin tried to do anything.

“Aw, do you suddenly care for me?” He places a hand over his chest, sighing dramatically, “I’m touched.”

“In your dreams, dipshit. Leave me alone,” you snap out, already getting a headache from this as you walk around on your knees to try and collect the papers, cursing to yourself when you find a wrinkled one, trying to smooth it out. Hyunjin watches you with a stoic expression, leaning against the wall. You don’t even bother saying another thing to him before you gather up the last of the papers and dash away, trying to organize the papers best you could before you reach your class.

Thankfully, Hyunjin didn’t follow you like he usually did. You let out a breath of air you didn’t know you were holding as you neared the classroom, your hands moving quickly to organise the papers. You open the door, somewhat out of breath as you hand them to the professor. Letting her know that you dropped them on your way here and they got a bit disorganized, but you tried your best to organize them again. She dismissed you and thanked you, sending you back to your seat to pack up (since it’s the end of the class, which is why you were hurrying).

Thankfully, your last class period is a study hall, so you take this time to run down to the library to work on assignments that are due soon. You prefer the library since it’s a calm and quiet place, and you know the librarian quite well, since you’re usually there during study hall. If you’re not there, you’re somewhere with a friend, and that’s usually not in the comfort of the library since you get pretty loud and unfiltered when you’re with friends. So, in the end, you’ll get booted out by the librarian.

When you get there, there’s already quite a few students sitting around, listening to music and typing vigorously on their laptops. You bow briefly to the librarian, who gives you a warm smile before you take a seat at a table in the corner of the library, far from the others. You take out your laptop and phone, plugging your earbuds into the earphone jack in your phone to play music into your ears.

You spend a good fifteen minutes writing an essay for your English Literature class. Focused in on the task at hand while soft lofi flows into your ears, letting your mind relax, but focus on what you’re doing.

So, it’s totally normal that you let out a short scream when your earbuds are painfully ripped out of your ears, your hands flying up to cup your ears. People glare at you, but turn back when they see who’s looming over your desk. Your earbuds and phone in his hand, and you could faintly hear the sound of the lofi that once calmed your mind. He stood there with a proud smile, and he raised a finger to his lips.

“Shh… quiet in the library,” Hyunjin says just above a whisper, and your lip twitches from holding back from strangling him in front of everyone. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? He’s always made a note to let you know how annoying you can be or how much he hates you, so why doesn’t he just leave you alone? He knows how much he upsets you, but it seems to make him happy. He already wears a stupid smile all the time. You’ve seen him upset before, plenty of times. But when he’s teasing you or doing things to make you miserable, he wears that same devilish smirk.

“I… Fuck you, Hwang Hyunjin. Give me my phone back.” You stand up, reaching for the phone, but his hand yanks back away from you. Giving you a sarcastic smile as he looks down at you.

“Beg for it,” Hyunjin giggles darkly. Looking at something on your phone and even pressing a few buttons. Your eyes widen.

“Fuck no, just give it back!” You whisper - yell, reaching for it again, leaning over the table to grab for it.

Hyunjin shakes his head, “I said to beg for it…~” he sings - songs in a hushed tone, and your hands tense, his neck lookingly plenty good to just strangle. You don’t say anything, and you fold your arms over your chest. Raising a brow at you. “You think that’s gonna change my mind, hon? I still want you to beg for it.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn, it’s annoying,” you grumble, and shut your laptop close and push it into your backpack. You start walking out, shoving past Hyunjin and fighting against frustrated tears. You don’t even bother to bow to the librarian as you walk out, on fist gripping the sleeve of your backpack and the other clenched tightly at your side.

You walk out of the library, into the court of the university. There’s not many people there, since it’s the last class period of the day and everyone was getting ready to go home for the weekend. You stood underneath a tree, and turned, cocking a brow at Hyunjin who followed behind you slowly. You frown at him, and his brow raises.

“So? You’re gonna get ‘em or no? You know I’m not giving them if you just frown at me, (Y/N),” Hyunjin smiles snarkily, and you visibly roll your eyes at him. You sigh softly.

“Hyunjin. Give them to me. I’m being serious, now, no fuckin’ around,” You hold your hand out, finally speaking in a normal, harsh tone now that you’re out of the library.

“Hm… Nah. You still have to beg for it like a bitch. Or else they’re mine,” Hyunjin gives you a pitifully fake smile, and your eyes close, trying to ease the rising rage inside you.

“Hyunjin. I’m not begging for it,” You take a step closer to him, but he doesn’t back down. Your headphones still clutch in his hand as he holds them away from you. When Hyunjin doesn’t respond, you finally act. Dropping your backpack and letting it slip off your shoulder and onto the grass, propping itself against the tree. Hyunjin’s smile finally drops when you grip his wrist, pulling it towards you harshly. But, on instinct, Hyunjin pulls himself away, pulling you towards him.

So, you push him down onto the grass, not caring for onlookers as you straddle Hyunjin’s waist before he could even try getting up. One of your hands reaches up to press against his chest, but Hyunjin doesn’t struggle. Not one bit. In fact, he doesn’t even smirk anymore. He’s just staring at you as you reach for his hand.

“(Y/N),” Hyunjin’s dark voice pipes up, and you shoot him a glare.

“Shut up,” you snap, and you pry open his fingers, which was much easier than you though. His hands are hot and sweaty, and you almost laugh at it. Is he nervous that you’re straddling him let alone touching him in the first place? You will admit, it’s an intimate position, but you only got on top of him like that to prevent him from moving so you could grab your earbuds and phone out of his hands and stuff them into your pocket.

You smirk down at him, your hair falling past your face. It feels good to be the one in control, and now that Hyunjin’s vulnerable, you utter out, “And you almost got me to beg. Boohoo. Better luck next time, dipshit.” You finally get off of him, and the moment you’re off of him, he gets up and dusts himself off.

“(Y/N),” He calls out your name as he watches you grab your backpack.

“Shut up and don’t talk to me,” You snap, and Hyunjin’s lip clamp shut. He looks conflicted, and you would feel bad if it weren’t Hyunjin. The same Hwang Hyunjin who’s decided to make your every day a living headache.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch me like that again,” Hyunjin’s hand snatches your wrist, but you pull yourself away swiftly, “If you do that ever, and I mean ever again, I will not hesitate to stuff your face in the dirt.” Hyunjin gets dangerously close to you, and you back away. You’re brows creasing. Sure, Hyunjin is a huge dick to you, but he’s not this much of a dick. So, it took you by surprise, but you felt proud. It’s obvious that forcing Hyunjin into such a vulnerable position both mentally and physically set him off, and you were proud of yourself for that. He’s always been the one trapping you, making you feel small and tugging at your strings of patience, and sometimes your heartstrings, too.

“Oh, fuck off, Hyunjin.” You groan out, your hands falling to your side as you sling your backpack over your shoulder, “You do that shit to me all the time. What’s it if I do it to you?”

“Just don’t do it a - fuckin’ - gain, (Y/N). Don’t, unless you don’t wanna walk straight the next day.” Hyunjin threatens, and your brows furrow.

“And what the fuck does that mean?” You scoff as Hyunjin shakes his head, turning to walk away. “Hyunjin!” You yell after him, but he thrusts up his hand, his slim middle finger in your direction. You scoff, surprised by such behavior from a guy like him, who’s usually the one doing the teasing instead of the flipping off.

You try your best to ignore him and head back to the dorm to your shared one with your friend. You were able to settle down for a bit, especially since your roommate wasn’t there yet. You finished up your work. Working on assignments that you couldn’t get to finish because of a certain someone who decided to snag your phone.

Speaking of your phone, about two hours after you get back to the dorm, your friend comes walking in.

“Hey Yeona,” You pipe up, acknowledging her presence as she peels off her flats from her feet. Yeona waves briefly before plopping on her bed.

“Hey (Y/N). How was it going today?”

“Terrible.” You admit, Hyunjin being the only thing coursing through your head.

“Terrible? Lemme guess,” Yeona sits up, glaring at you, “it’s that one Hwang guy you keep ranting about?” You nod slowly, “Ah. Well, sorry about that. Actually, that reminds me. Someone was asking for you. A boy… A really, really cute boy.”

“Oh? Who?” Your brow raises.

Yeona shrugs, “No clue. Couldn’t catch his name; he seemed like he was in a rush. He wants you to meet him in the old art room. The one they use for storage, you know? He said to take your time, but he seemed desperate as hell.”

“The old art room? Don’t people go there to fuck because the camera’s are busted at the school’s too lazy to replace ‘em?” your brow raises, a bitter smile etching your lip.

“That’s the one. Hey, you might get some dick tonight. At least he’s cute,” she wiggles her brows, and you laugh. “Go one. Call me if anything happens.”

“Yes, ma’am,” You jokingly salute, and Yeona does it right back. You stuff your phone in your back pocket, and give her a playful smile before you leave.

The old art room is at the very core of the school, and you know exactly where it is. Everybody does. It’s not exactly something that just goes unnoticed by the students. Since it’s old, the camera’s are very much out of date and therefore can’t hook up to the ‘new and improved’ security system. Usually people snuck there to fuck during passing hall, since no teacher went in there. Only special people on special occasions use it for storage.

You were somewhat excited. You still have your v - card, whether you like it or not. You originally planned to save it for someone special. But, at this point, you’re too stressed to care about who’s taking your virginity and who’s not. At this point, you’d get on your knees for anyone willing.

Except for Hwang Hyunjin. Of fucking course. You know so many people who would literally beg to be fucked by none other than Hwang Hyunjin. You were not one of those people. You weren’t one of Hyunjin’s toys, even though he treated you like one. You would never let him get to your head, though. You know that you shouldn’t listen to Hyunjin even if your life depended on it. He might mean those things, those vulgar things he says to you, but you choose not to believe them.

You were trembling by the time we were standing in front of the old art room. The rusty door is slightly ajar, signifying that someone’s inside. Of course there is, but it’s still weird that they didn’t shut the door in case any teacher got concerned and checked in. Whoever’s inside must be stupid, but you’re not one to ghost someone like that, especially if Yeona said that they seemed desperate. Someone desperate for you? You had no clue who. No one ever stared at you in class. No one ever teased you. Tried to constantly get your attention.

Actually, that’s a lie. That’s a bitter lie.

Hwang Hyunjin fit into every aspect of someone who’d be desperate for your attention. That’s when it hit you that Hyunjin’s only trying to gain your attention in the worst way.

And, he did. Because he’s standing right in front of you.

You turned to leave, but Hyunjin’s hand slammed against the closed door, making you flinch at the close proximity between the two of you, and you turned to look at Hyunjin. He’s not smiling like he usually is when he first sees you. In fact, you can’t tell what expression laces his godly face.

“Hyunjin? Was it you that told my friend to bring me here?” You ask, not so much a harsh tone, but trying to make things clear despite the answer being (literally) right in front of your face. There’s no one else in the old art room but empty boxes, old art tables and storage boxes littered here and there. “This isn’t funny, Hyunjin. I’m leaving.” You turn back around to grip the doorknob, but Hyunjin’s warm, shaking hand grips your wrist firmly, yet oddly gently.

“Don’t,” he utters out. His voice was strangely small. Nimble, even. Weak. “Don’t go. I need to talk to you.”

“Since when do you wanna talk to me?” You snap, and Hyunjin dodges your intense glare. His confidence seeps to be depleting by the minute.

“I just need to. I need to get things figured out,” Hyunjin grumbles out, letting go of your wrist. He steps away from you and sits on one of the old art tables, manspreading, stretching the tight fabric of his jeans.

“Get what figured out? Tell me,” you demand, now stepping away from the door and sitting across from Hyunjin on another table. Before Hyunjin could speak, though, you raise a hand, a thought coming to mind, “Wait, no. Why did you not just come to my dorm like a normal person? Why the art room? Do you know how many people have fucked in here, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, sighing softly, “Yes, I do. It’s just the only place we could truly be alone.”

“Wait… you’re not gonna do what I think you're gonna do, right?” You back up, reaching for your phone.

Hyunjin shakes his head, “No, I’m not. I’m not a stupid sixteen year old anymore, (Y/N). And neither are you.” You sigh, relaxing, “I’m just going to get straight to the point. I can’t take this anymore, (Y/N). I’m so lost without you.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his, looking for any sign of mischief or joke in his eyes. But, no. Instead, they’re genuine. Your brows furrow, confusion crashing over you.

“I don’t want to live with the thought that I make every day for you living hell,” Hyunjin looks away, ashamed.

“Then why do you taunt me in the first place?” You nearly yell, and Hyunjin’s eyes flicker closed. You get off of the table, standing in front of him, “Why do you work so hard to just get me pissed off for the rest of the day, huh? Why do you want my attention so bad? Why can’t you just leave me alone, then, if you don’t want to make my college life a living hell, huh?”

“Because I’m in love with you.”

So blunt. So stoic. So true.

You’re silenced by his words, shock overcoming you. Overwhelmingly dominating your anger as your eyes widen slowly. He doesn’t break eye contact, this time. He doesn’t bother looking away. He’s standing his ground. He’s telling the truth.

You shake your head, “No your not.”

“You don’t decide that,” Hyunjin says almost directly after your voice drifts off.

“You can’t be in love with me, Hyunjin. You can’t,” You shake your head, backing away.

“It’s not my fault!” Hyunjin finally raises his voice, getting off of the table and taking an intimidating step towards you. Making you falter and scramble back, your lower back hitting the old art table. “I can’t help it. I can’t help, (Y/N). I’ve tried everything. I’ve been with so many girls, even guys. Trying to get out of my mind but nothing, nothing works. It’s always been you. Ever since high school.”

“Even when you were dating her…?”

“Even when I was dating her. The only reason I dated your fucking friend was to try and get close to you,” Hyunjin admits, and your mouth falls open. You lost a friend just because he wanted to get close to you? Your anger was slowly gaining back it’s superiority over your shock, “I tried to talk to you, but every time I did it just came out as mean. You viewed me as a fuckboy, and I fulfilled that role. Only to try and get you out of my fucking head.” He spits out through gritted teeth. “I’ve tried to make myself hate you, despise you. And, don’t get me wrong, hon, a small part of me hates you’re short, annoying ass. But everything else is incomplete without you.”

“Why didn’t you just confront me? If you didn’t decide to date my friend then we wouldn’t be here right now!” You yell, pressing a finger to his chest.

“I was sixteen, (Y/N)! Sixteen. Everything that I did ended in my misfortune,” Hyunjin yells right back.

“And was that my fault? Huh?”

“Yes! It is! Yes, it fuckin’ is!”

“How in the fuck is it ever my fault with you?!” You shove him away.

“Because it was. All. For. You. Get that through your thick fucking skull!” Hyunjin yells so loudly, so aggressively that it brought you to tears. But, you didn’t show any sign of fear. You weren’t backing down from this.

After his yelling, things quieted. You’re too nervous to talk, afraid your voice would pathetically crack from the painful lump growing in your throat. Hyunjin stared at you, as if waiting for you to say something, anything. But, you couldn’t utter a word. Only a few pathetic tears slipping from your eyes. His brows crease up when he watches the quick, warm tears fall over your cheek and down your neck. His bottom lip becomes trapped between his teeth, and he looks down for a bit.

You’re tired of the silence. You simply can’t take it anymore. It’s driving you mad how tense and uncomfortable the silence between you and Hyunjin is.

“Hyunjin, I-“

You’re not able to finish before a pair of soft lips press themselves to yours. Your mind goes blank, and your body stiffens as you stare into Hyunjin’s closed eyes. Your hands gripping the table behind you for balance as Hyunjin’s trembling hands creep up to grip your face. He’s kissing you.

Hwang fucking Hyunjin is kissing you.

That’s a first.

You want to push him away, but no matter how much you tell yourself to, you only relax more and more. The feeling of his lips against yours was supposed to repulse you, give you the push you need to slam a fist into Hyunjin’s face. But, with how delicately he kisses you and how his gentle, trembling fingers caress your warm cheeks, you can’t bear even clenching your fist in the need to hurt him or to get him away from you.

You couldn’t bear to admit it, but you were slowly melting into the kiss. It was as though Hyunjin was casting some sort of spell on you. Your eyes relax. Going from a dim half - lidded until they flutter shut. Your hands let go of the table. You’re shaking, ever so slightly. Your hands guide themselves as they bring themselves up to press against Hyunjin’s collarbone. At first, you believe you’re trying to push him away. But, your own hands deceive you when they slowly trail up to run your hands through his long grown hair.

You finally let your lips move, and you finally kiss him back.

Hyunjin’s reaction to it is one to die for. His back stiffens when he feels your lips part and move with his. One of his hands moves to caress your jaw, his thumb running across the bone, his hands a bit more firm as the kiss gets passionate.

You want to hate yourself for kissing him back. For succumbing to him and letting yourself fall weak underneath him. But, you just couldn’t help yourself. Hyunjin’s lips pulled you in and didn’t seem to plan on letting you go anytime soon.

It seems like a flash when your tongue presses flush against Hyunjin’s. The feelings send your back stiff and you tightly grip his hair, as if you were going to break apart from the feeling. Hyunjin’s experienced lips guided your inexperienced ones, despite him obviously being nervous.

You try to breath through your nose like Hyunjin does when things start getting more and more intense, and Hyunjin’s hands slowly start to creep away from your face. Tongues clash, and instead of fighting for dominance over one another, you both move in sync. Your torso pressed against his as Hyunjin traps you in between him and the table.

One of Hyunjin’s hands falls down your arm, gently caressing your side before picking up your thigh to push you to sit on the table. He pushes you back.

“Hyunjin - ah… We can’t…” You mumble out breathily as he kisses the sides of your lips. His lips instantly connect back with yours.

“And here… I thought… you were standing so strong and proud,” Hyunjin chuckles darkly, whispering out the words in between wet kisses. His usual self coming back, and your brows furrow. “But… no. You’re letting me… do this… without fight.”

Your head cranes back as Hyunjin’s lips drag down to your neck. Licking wet strips up and down your neck, suckling on the sensitive skin and pressing wet, sloppy kisses to your skin. You bite back a moan.

“You said you wouldn’t do anything…” You whimper out, and Hyunjin chuckles against your neck.

“Maybe, but you’ve passed the point of no return when you kissed back. And here I thought you’d punch me in the face,” Hyunjin laughs against your skin, moving you so your legs are spread for him to press more and more against you.

“Maybe I should’ve,” you whisper out in one breath.

“Mmh, but you know you like it, baby,” Hyunjin smirks.

“What happened to you wanting to talk?” You breath out, your breath moans getting louder, and you bite your lip to hold your voice back.

“You ruined it,” Hyunjin grumbles, nibbling on your skin briefly.

“Fuck you…” you grumble, your arms wrapping around his neck unconsciously.

“Already, hmm? Impatient, are we?”

“Fuck off…!” You groan at his dumb joke, and Hyunjin laughs against you. “But… seriously, Hyunjin… Wait… I’m still a virgin.”

Hyunjin’s head snaps up, his brows furrowed. “You’re a what, again?”

“A virgin, dumbass.”

“Are you saying you want to have sex-..”

“Hyunjin! Don’t take this so lightly. I’ve never done it with anyone before, and I definitely wasn’t planning on someone like you being my first,” you admit, and Hyunjin cocks a brow at you.

“You’ll regret those words. I’ll make sure this is a night for you to remember,” Hyunjin snaps, his words dark, and you swallow. “But, I need you to let me know that you want me, too.”

“Goddamn it, Hyunjin,” you groan, and your hand grips a lock of his hair, pulling his back so he can look clearly at you, “I want you to fuck me, Hyun - ah…”

A smirk creeps up on his lips, and you watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows his spit, and you let go of his hair, and his head dives back into your neck. Not exactly going back to kissing you, but resting his lips there. He mumbles out, “I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your pretty mouth.” And neither did you. You tried to deny it, telling yourself that it’s a spur of the moment idea. But, right now, again, you can’t push Hyunjin away. Your body won't let you.

Fuck it, your mind screams, and you let your legs wrap around Hyunjin’s waist. His hands find themselves caressing your thighs, your waist and back as his lips start moving again over your neck. The sensation sending constant chills up and down your spine, causing your back to stiffen and arch at the new feeling erupting in your core. You’ve masturbated before, that’s not the issue. But, being in the control of somebody gave you a whole new stimulation with even having to be touched too much. A new spark of intensity.

Hyunjin’s hands are rough, yet cautious. Trying not to go too far, but obviously trying not to pull away himself.

He eventually pushed your shoulders lightly, but with enough force to push your back flat against the old art table. He’s still standing, but he’s leaning over you, his hands on either side of your head and his pelvis nearly pressed against yours, standing in between your legs.

His warm hands move slowly underneath your shirt. Your back lifts at the feeling of his hands meeting your untouched skin, and you let out a hoarse breath as Hyunjin sucks on the skin below your jaw. Your head tilting to the side to give him the access he needed. Your neck craning, and your eyes flutter shut from the bliss. Your lips parting in a silent moan. Too embarrassed to actually make too much noise. Hyunjin’s hands move up the sides of your bare waist, carrying your shirt and hoodie with it. He parts from your neck to look up at you, his hands coming to a sudden halt.

You only glare over to him before you take your shirt and hoodie yourself, peeling it quickly off and over your head and tossing them to the side, trying to make it onto another table, but it landed on the floor. You could care less. Hyunjin’s eyes immediately dart down to stare at your semi - exposed torso. You bite your bottom as Hyunjin’s hand eases up, poking at the wire of your cherry pink bra. “Pink? Cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble out, and Hyunjin’s eyes flicker up to meet yours.

“Hmm, that’s not gonna happen and you know that.” Hyunjin winks at you, and you roll your eyes before your head falls back again. Hyunjin’s wet lips come back to your neck, but this time, he starts pressing slow, wet kisses down your neck. Over your collarbone and chest before over the bump of your breasts. You watch him with nervous eyes as Hyunjin presses wet kisses over the skin of your breasts. The feeling of the sensitive, untouched skin being no longer untouched is euphoric. However, he doesn’t take off your bra, most likely since you’re in the old art room and being completely nude would be a bit too overbearing and overwhelming for both of your likings.

You thought Hyunjin was going to stop there, but no. He kept on kissing down, now going over your stomach. Your heartbeat got louder and louder as he kept going down. His warm mouth pressing warm kisses to you before moving down, the area before being shadowed by the cold air.

Your breath got caught in your throat when Hyunjin’s fingers loop around the loose hem of your jeans. His eyes darting up to look at you briefly. But, this time, he doesn’t wait for you to take them off. One finger undoes the first button before he swiftly moves out of the way to pull them down. Your legs try to clamp shut, but Hyunjin’s knee jerks up, stopping them from closing. Your panties don’t match your bra, since they’re black and not as fancy. However, Hyunjin doesn’t seem to care at all.

Your pink face watches as Hyunjin tosses your jeans to the side, with the rest of your clothes.

“Hyunjin - ah…” You utter out, and Hyunjin’s eyes flicker up to meet yours, one brow raising in question.

“I’m going to eat you out,” Hyunjin gives you a sarcastic smile, and you don’t have the willpower to roll your eyes. Your pussy is already sopping wet, and you hold back the urge to throw yourself on top of him. You’re not surprised by how blunt he is, but it’s still nerve wracking for you. “Don’t be scared. You’ll be perfectly fine.” He reassures, and you know you’re fine. That you’re safe, but, as said before, you were so nervous.

You watch as Hyunjin dips between your legs, getting on his knees on the floor, perfectly level with you. He looks from your wet panties to you for a moment before he presses a firm kiss to your clothed cunt. Your hips jut up from the sensitivity of it, your legs trying to clamp shut, but Hyunjin’s hand is quicker. His hand flush against your thigh. He smirks against you, pressing another feather light kiss to your clothes pussy once more before he licks up it, firmly pressing his tongue against you, sending your hand to your mouth to hide your choked moans.

However, Hyunjin’s hand flies up to pull your arm down, grumbling out, “Don’t be fucking quiet this time, (Y/N).”

“We’re in a fucking classroom, Hyunjin, I have to be!” You let out a throaty groan as Hyunjin licks another long, slow strip over your panties.

“All the teachers are gone. God, relax,” Hyunjin laughs bitterly, and you shoot him a confused look.

“You planned this didn’t you?” You snarl, propping yourself, and Hyunjin cocks a brow, his long fingers hooking around the hem of your pantines. You tried to close your legs, but they’re blocked by Hyunjin’s hands. Hyunjin only shoots you glare before pulling down your panties, and you gasp when your sopping pussy meets the cold air of the old art room.

“Ha,” Hyunjin scoffs, one of his fingers moving up to grace itself over the smooth, all too stimulative and sensitive skin around you, making your hips jutter, “No matter how mad you try to make yourself, you’re still dripping wet like a bitch in heat. Didn’t know I turned you on so much, sweetheart.”

“I’ll kill you,” you snap, but your hand goes to grip the edge of the table.

“You’ll love me after this,” Hyunjin winks at you again.

“I doubt it,” you backfire, and Hyunjin’s brow raises. A challenging smile on his face as his lips near your throbbing womanhood. So close, you could feel his breath fanning you. Hyunjin holds eye contact with you as his lips make contact with your warm, wet cunt. Your head falls back when you feel Hyunjin’s tongue against your clit. You let out a breathy moan and your hand flies down to tug at Hyunjin’s hair.

Hyunjin doesn’t go slow. He’s already teasing your hole with his middle finger as he licks and suckes around your pussy. His lips and tongue working wonders no toy you’ve ever owned ever could. The explicit sounds he makes turn you on even more, his eyes fluttering shut to focus on his mouth’s movement more than your face, which is tilted back. Your back arches from the pleasure, and you let out delicate moans as Hyunjin’s lips satisfy your throbbing pussy, giving it the attention it’s been craving.

Hyunjin slowly eases one finger into you, and your hips buck onto it. Hyunjin chuckles against you at your movement and raises a hand to press against your gut, pushing you down and holding you there as he lapped up your flowing juices while his finger inserts inside you. His knuckles soon flush against you, slowly twisting his hand inside you as you push yourself against him. Chills running through your body as Hyunjin’s tongue presses against your sensitive clit.

“Oh, god, Hyunjin…!” You moan out when he presses another finger into you. Your eyes squeezing shut as your trembling hands grip Hyunjin’s hair, your legs resting over his shoulders as he begins to thrust his fingers into you at a decently fast pace. His long fingers penetrate your tight, virgin hole. Pumping them in and out quickly, and you clench around him.

Your hands that grip Hyunjin’s hair pulls him further towards you, trying to get more and more of his tongue on you. Your hips grinding down on his fingers as your mind fogs from the pleasure. Now, you don’t care that it’s Hwang Hyunjin, you’re just loving the pleasure he’s providing you. You neck cranes, almost as if trying to pull away from how sensitive you were and how Hyunjin was abusing that.

However, when he enters a third finger, stretching you out, you feel your orgasm nearing. You clench around his fingers, your moans getting louder. Now, the thought of a teacher overhearing your explicit moans clearing from your head, your mind relaxing on the thought. All you can think of is how high you’re getting from the pleasure.

“Hyunjin… Hyunjin, I’m gonna cum soon… Hyunjin - ah, mmh,” one hand reaching up, the back of your hand pressing against your lips. Hyunjin doesn’t slow down. His hands move faster, and his mouth sucks at your clit. Your back begins to arch, your climax dangerously close.

But, it doesn’t come.

Hyunjin’s hands pull out of your pussy and he stands up when your back twitches, about to throw itself up when your climax hits. You look at Hyunjin with wide, glossy eyes. Sweat dripping down your forehead. Your legs twitch from the lost orgasm.

“What the fuck, Hyunjin?” You snap, and Hyunjin wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, giving you a raised brow and a smirk.

“You don’t get to cum, yet,” Hyunjin climbs over you again, trapping you down underneath his arms as he pushes himself in between your legs, and you could feel how hard he was just by a small brush of his bulge against your thigh. “Now, be good for me and take my cock like a good slut.” Your back stiffens from the vulgar slur, but it only makes your oversensitive pussy even wetter.

Hyunjin is quick when he lets his pants drop down with his boxers, and his dick springs free. His achingly red cock pressing against his stomach. As you look from his cock to his eyes, you feel waves of fear spring over you. However, Hyunjin’s soft touch on your face calms your nerves. His other hand pumps his member a few times before the tip it teases against your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn wet,” Hyunjin groans, and you don’t answer, watching as Hyunjin slowly pushes himself into you, raw. Your head falls from the feeling, and Hyunjin’s mouth falls open, letting out a breathy groan as he eased himself into you. Your throbbing womanhood getting used to such a feeling. Once his pelvis bone is pressed against your ass, he stays there like that for a moment, and you get used to his size.

After a few moments of the sounds of both of your loud breaths, Hyunjin’s face nears yours, and your eyes flicker open to stare into his dark eyes. “I’m gonna start movin’, (Y/N),” he warns, and you nod.

“Please…” You grumble, and Hyunjin’s lip rises in a smirk.

“Please?”

“Move… Fuck me hard, Hyunjinnie. I can’t take it anymore. It’s about time you stopped fucking teasing me, huh?” You growl out, irritated.

Hyunjin’s smirk drops to a frown, and his hand grips your cheeks harshly, “Watch your tone with me, (Y/N). You can be so fucking proud, and that’s one of the reasons I wanna hate you. But, you’re too irresistable not to fuck until you’re screaming my name and begging for more.” And, after that, he ever so slowly pulls out of you before ramming himself back into you. So harshly and aggressively, it moves the whole table enough to where it creaks on it’s old legs. You let out a loud, inevitable moan that forces its way out of your lips.

Hyunjin does that a few times, and he throws his head back because of the pleasure. His face drowned in lust, and you clung to the table. A new burning sensation in your core as Hyunjin’s dick rams into your pure walls, deriving them from their innocence. You’re heat clenches around him as he pulls himself in and out of you. Slowly driving himself out before ramming into you.

But, he doesn’t do that for long when he starts to find a fast rhythm. One hand gripping your thigh while the other holds himself up on the table. He’ll sometimes let out breathy grunts or groans, but you’re on the verge of screaming out from how fast he was going. His cock burning your walls, sending a new sensation through you. It’s painful, but you’re loving it so much. You’re loving the burn, the penetration, everything.

Your eyes are closed, pure ecstasy running through you as your hands move up to wrap your arms around Hyunjin’s neck, pulling him close to you and into a kiss. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back. Both of your mouths open to crash your tongues together in bliss as your legs wrap around Hyunjin loosely. His hips stay consistent, but your hips twitch and stutter. Your back stiffening and twitching, pressing tight against Hyunjin’s clothed torso as he kisses you. One of his hands guiding up to harshly caress your cheek, jaw and neck. His long fingers tugging lightly at your hair as your hands screwed with Hyunjin’s hair. Running through it, gripping it, even tugging it sometimes.

“Oh my fucking god, (Y/N),” He moans against your lips, moving away to rest his lips against your neck as he groans, his hips stuttering slightly, throwing him off his rhythm, “You’re pussy’s so fuckin’ good. Feels so fuckin’ good.” You moan out in response, too lost in desire, lust and euphoric, blissful pleasure to form something as simple as a response. Your mind so blank, nothing running through your mind other than how Hyunjin’s cock makes your pussy feel so fucking good. How he makes you feel so fucking good. The way it’s overstimulated and edged on, it’s almost overwhelming to the point you want to cry from the stimulation.

You begin to moan, nearly screaming out Hyunjin’s name as you feel your climax nearing, clenching helplessly around his cock. “Hyunjin… Hyunjin! Oh, fuck, Hyunjin - ah, I’m gonna cum! Please, oh god, please, I wanna cum so… ah! - so fuckin’ bad…” Your words are slurred, but enough for Hyunjin to make out.

“Mmh… Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock, baby girl,” your back arches, flush against Hyunjin’s body as your gut erupts with a new feeling. Your neck cranes as your eyes open, rolling into the back of your head as your mouth opens in a silent scream. Cumming all over Hyunjin’s cock as he stops his thrusts, deep inside you to let you cum. Your mind hazing as you let out a string of high - pitched moans. Your body twitches and your knuckles turn white from gripping Hyunjin’s tee shirt.

Once you’re halfway through your climax, nearing the part where your whole body relaxes, Hyunjin quickly pulls out. Getting up from you, and your arms drop to your side as you breath heavily, coming down from your high. Hyunjin pumps his cock fast in his hands. Not slowing down whatsoever as his eyes squeeze shut. You watch his face as his mouth opens, moaning loudly as he cums over your stomach.

Once he is down from his climax, he breathes heavily. Sweat dripping down the side of his forehead. Your head falls back, your eyes closing as exhaustion then waves over your body. Catching your breath.

You didn’t even notice Hyunjin leaving shortly to grab an old cup from the counter and fill it with water before coming back. Dipping his fingers in the water to wipe his cum off of you. You jump at the sensation, but relax when you see Hyunjin’s distant, wistful smile. You watch as he wipes it off, making sure it’s clean before dumping the cup in the sink. Your heart quickens as Hyunjin puts on his clothes before he walks over to grab your clothes and silently help you put them on. He doesn’t really make eye contact with you, but it’s a comfortable silence. The first ever comfortable silence you’ve had with him.

It’s then, as he helped wipe you clean, dress you and make sure you were already by wiping the sweat off of your face with the back of his hand that Hyunjin wasn’t who you thought he was. Everything’s not as it seems. The way he smiles so adoringly at you as he brushes the back of his hand against your cheekbone ever so lovingly makes you feel conflicted with feelings.

At some point, Hyunjin lays down next to you on the art table. It’s quiet for a few minutes, both of your just staring at the ceiling, shoulders and legs touching.

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” He whispers, and you finally look over to him. He wears a delicate smile, and a tear trickles down the side of his face, “I really shouldn’t. I really don’t know why, but I do.” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence, and you swear your heart shattered right there. “I… I shouldn’t have had sex with you. It’s only making everything worse for me. It’s making everything hurt so much more.”

He sits up, wiping his face, turning his back from you. He sniffs softly, letting out sharp breaths as his back trembled from his hoarse breathing.

You sit up, too. Reaching over to put your hand on his shoulder, but you hesitate.

No. If Hyunjin isn’t really who you thought he was, you want, you need to get to know the real him.

So, you make up your mind.

You get off of the table to move in front of him, and he tries to move away, his hands covering his red face. You gently grip his hands, pulling them away from his face. And it’s a sight you thought you’d never have to see. His eyes are red, his face wet and pink from the tears staining his face. It’s such a pitiful look on him, and you thought you’d never, ever see him so vulnerable. He keeps him looking down, trying to pull his hands away, but you have a tight grip on them.

“Look at me, Hyunjin.” You demand in a soft, yet firm voice. Hyunjin doesn’t for a moment, and you were about to repeat yourself, but Hyunjin’s eyes lock with yours. You give him a soft sigh and smile, “Hyunjin. You’ve proved to me that you’re not the person I thought you were. And… if you’re really not the douchebag, fuckboy and absolute asshate that I know, then… then I’ll stay by your side. Alright?”

Your heart hammers against your chest as Hyunjin’s eyes widen slightly, another tear slowly dripping down his face. You let go of one of his hands to gently rub it away with your thumb. Just below his eye. Hyunjin stares at you with wide, doubtful eyes. His lips slightly ajar as his hand trembles in yours.

So, to ease the silence, you press a gentle kiss to his lips. With no tongue, it’s an innocent kiss. He doesn’t kiss back at first, but he does after a moment.

And, the rest of that night was spent in that old art room. Either talking to each other, kissing each other or holding each other that night. You learned a lot about Hyunjin. About why he likes to fuck around, why he thinks he’s in love with you and other things about his life. You also told him a lot about you, about why you didn’t feel right about him at first.

And, by the end of that night, you could easily conclude that you’re in love with Hwang Hyunjin, and that it’s possible to fall in love with someone in the span of one night after years and years of hating each other.

786 notes · View notes

stillness-in-green · 3 years

Text

Why Deku's ultimatum to Overhaul is bad and he should feel bad

This is a bit outside my normal character wheelhouse, but I really need to get a rant about it off my chest, so here goes:

The Deku and Overhaul scene in Chapter 316 is terrible. It is fucking terrible.

I took a whirl around Overhaul's tag up through when the leaks first started dropping, but didn't immediately see anyone talking about why it's so fucking terrible, only concerns about letting Overhaul see Eri (understandable, but baseless, I think), some empathy towards Overhaul's current state (totally warranted!), some snark about Deku being So Done with Overhaul (haha because who cares about Deku's stated goal of trying to understand villains, right?), and, worst of all, some cooing about how Deku was being so compassionate and noble by offering Overhaul that olive branch.

Deku was not being compassionate and noble there. Deku was being arrogant, small-minded, and so shockingly cruel that it leaves me speechless that anyone could think his stunted and hard-hearted "offer" reflects well on him.

Deku's entire motivation in this arc has been wrestling with the realization that he might have been able to avoid some of the desperate battles of his past if he'd understood more about the villains he fought. He thought of three very specific people--Stain, Muscular, and Overhaul--as he reflected, "Maybe it wouldn't have had to go that way if I'd understood them better." He then thought of Gentle Criminal and La Brava, people who he’d come to some understanding of, who he’d been able to soften the conclusion of his battle with by going along with Gentle's fiction downplaying what had happened between them. The whole line of thought was intended to contextualize his newfound desire to save Shigaraki.

It soon became apparent that Stain, Muscular and Overhaul were, in fact, encounters that he would be revisiting, as a chance to see how he'd grown since he faced them, and as a dry-run on reaching out to villains that would give him a chance to practice ways he might reach out to Shigaraki when the time comes.

Well, based on his performance so far, the idea that Deku might be able to reach Shigaraki is laughable.

Firstly, his tentative questions to Muscular were ill-timed, all wrong for the middle of a battle. Muscular laughed him off, and I don’t think there’s any version of that scenario in which he would have done otherwise. Muscular was a huge threat, gleefully violent, disinterested in conversation about his history. Obviously, right in the middle of a fight was no kind of time to try to figure out what made the man tick! But Deku didn’t get the luxury of choosing the circumstances of that encounter, so yes, that battle probably was unavoidable, certainly if Deku wanted to stop him from doing further damage. But the idea that because Deku couldn't reach him right then and there, it's impossible for Deku--or, indeed, for anyone--to reach him at all is fallacious. Not every person has to be able to like or understand every other person. If Deku couldn't reach Muscular, so what? That doesn't mean it's impossible that someone might. And that means an obligation to treat Muscular like a human being, to afford him human rights, to not stop trying to find a way to rehabilitate him, even as you safeguard other people against him.

Deku's battle with Muscular being unavoidable was not some great triumph, for all that the narrative used it as an opportunity to let him show off how far he’d come in mastering One For All. In the way that matters, the way that Deku himself is currently trying to better, he hasn't advanced at all. Imasuji Goto represented his first test in the lead-up to saving Shigaraki, and Deku failed it.

His next trial was Overhaul.* Here, again, was someone who Deku was explicitly trying to understand. So what was the one thing that was most key to understanding Overhaul's current motivation? What was the one thing that Overhaul was ranting about out loud, incessantly? And what did Deku conspicuously fail to ask about? Overhaul's relationship with Pops.

This was so easy. So obvious. And Deku didn’t even try. All he could think about in the moment he was faced with that broken man was the little girl that man hurt--all thoughts of trying to understand where the man himself was coming from went right out the window, flown away in an instant. Instead of asking about why Overhaul feels the way he does, he demanded that Overhaul feel the way Deku wanted. He was essentially holding the only person Overhaul cared about hostage for the remorse he wanted Overhaul to feel.

I'm not going to try to armchair diagnose Overhaul with mental conditions. I don't have the educational background, and I'm positive Horikoshi doesn't. But it seems pretty clear that asking Overhaul to feel guilt about Eri was asking for something that he might not be capable of feeling, at least not without years of therapy that he was plainly not getting in Tartarus. And if Overhaul is not capable of feeling that guilt, then what does denying Overhaul his meeting actually solve? Who does it help? It doesn’t help Eri. Doesn’t help the old man. It certainly doesn’t help Overhaul himself. The only person who gets any satisfaction out of demanding remorse from Overhaul is Deku. And even Deku didn’t look like he found it very satisfying!

Another failure. A meaninglessly cruel, petty failure. A failure that served only to hurt a man who was already a live wire of agony, to sentence an old man to a coma he might never wake from without Overhaul's expertise, and to deprive Eri of the only actual family she had left.

And look, Pops might very well not be the ideal guardian for Eri, and I'm not saying he should get to "keep" her just because of the blood connection, but it's not like he cheerfully handed her over to Overhaul and walked out the door! He turned to Overhaul because he trusted Overhaul, because he wanted someone to help Eri and thought that maybe Overhaul could. And when Overhaul's thoughts about Eri took a very dark turn, Pops first denied his request about using her to further his research and then, when Overhaul kept pushing it, chose Eri over the kid he personally took in from the streets by telling Overhaul that he needed to leave the Shie Hassaikai if he couldn't muster any more respect for human life than that.

But, you know, Eri is so cute with Aizawa and stuff. And Pops was a criminal. Probably. Maybe? I mean, he was yakuza, anyway, so he obviously must have been a criminal even if the police never actually arrested him. Apparently, this means it's okay to just leave him in a coma forever! Even though Overhaul absolutely has enough medical expertise that letting him talk to a neurologist about what he did to Pops might enable them to figure out how to wake Pops up even without Overhaul being able to use his quirk to undo the damage. Hell, Overhaul is also the person alive who has the best handle on how Eri's quirk works. He might even know what her accumulation condition is. Maybe a better thing to ransom his access to Pops with would be Overhaul telling Aizawa everything he knows about Eri's quirk so Aizawa can use the knowledge to help her get a better handle on it.

But no. Obviously undoing some small part of the concrete harm Overhaul did was less important than how Deku felt about that harm.

And there's more! Oh, is there ever. I called Deku arrogant before; let me circle back to that.

Deku said that if Chisaki would feel the way Deku wanted him to feel, then Deku would uphold the promise to let Overhaul see Pops. But where in hell did Deku get off making that claim? Deku is a student. He's not a pro. He has no authority, medical, legal, carceral or otherwise. He has no say in where Overhaul goes or who he's allowed to see.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? What kind of strings did Deku think he could pull that he could just casually make that claim without so much as going into a huddle with Hawks and Endeavor about it first? How inflated has this kid's sense of importance gotten that he made Overhaul that promise without even stopping to think about whether it was something he was in any position to ensure? It was such a bullshit ultimatum, not only because of how needlessly obstructive it was, but because it was so formless.

"If only you would feel a wish to apologize to Eri…" Okay, so what if Overhaul goes back to prison and, three days later, calls out to say, "Okay, I thought about it and I really feel like I want to apologize, now can I see Pops already?" Who gets to make that judgment call? Deku? Is he going to drop his faux-vigilante act and come visit Overhaul in prison just so he can squint at the man really hard to see if he's lying? Is Deku going to delegate the call to someone else? All Might? Hawks? A prison warden? A psychologist? Who? Who gets to be the one to say, "Okay, I think his remorse is genuine."

Then, once that call has been made, how many people have to arrange for Overhaul to be escorted out of prison and to whatever hospital Pops is in? Will Deku get to oversee that visit? Does he think he can overturn a warden declaring, "The scum doesn't deserve a visit, and the old man probably doesn't either," or a doctor protesting, "I'm not letting that man anywhere near my patient!"

The hell of it is, I think Deku could do all of that. He's got a close personal connection to All Might, who was basically a demi-god to this society for decades; he has the ear of the current top three heroes. Everyone is apparently convinced that the power to save this society rests solely in Deku's hands; I'm sure he could ask for anything he wanted. But the fact that that is the case suggests that this society is not even slightly turning away from its dependence on heroes dictating its morality. A hero having the sole right to dictate, out of hand, based on his personal feelings, the fate of people designated "villains" while the rest of society turns away is exactly what Shigaraki is angry about.

The only thing worse than Deku perpetuating the worst problems of hero society in an arc that's supposed to be about him finding a better way is that he didn’t even stop to think about it. It never even occurred to him that that was what he was doing. He thought that what he was asking of Chisaki was just and fair, and thus, he didn’t need to ask for any second opinions or permissions; he didn’t need to think about what would actually be feasible, about what was best for the people involved. He'd made his judgment call about a villain, and that's all there was to it. The villain could fall in line or--nothing. There isn't actually another choice. Hero's way or nothing

I hate it. I hate it. I don't care about whether Overhaul "deserves" to suffer; heroes making the cold decision that they will make him suffer is antithetical to everything a carceral system intended to rehabilitate prisoners stands for. And yes, Japan does at least claim on paper that the goal of incarceration in state hands is rehabilitation.

Restorative justice is superior to retributive justice. It's better for society and it's better for individuals. It is kinder, it is more compassionate. Retributive justice poisons people. It perpetuates suffering for no reason but moral grandstanding. Individuals are allowed to forgive or not forgive anyone they want, but a society should conduct itself with an eye to the long-term welfare of all of its people. That means that even the worst kinds of criminals still have human rights. It means not inflicting pain that serves no purpose.

I've gotten off-track here. Yes, I think that if Overhaul could feel regret about Eri, that would obviously be a positive development for his character. It'd hurt like hell, but it would be a hurt that indicated he was becoming a better person, a person who wanted to do more good, less ill, with his life and efforts. But you can't mandate that someone become a better person. No ultimatum handed down from on high is going to change Overhaul's heart. Telling someone, "I'll help you, but only if you only feel the way I want you to feel. Otherwise, you can just stay there and suffer," is not reaching out to help people who are suffering in the dark, which is, again, what Deku claimed he wanted to do, what he begged for Nagant's help in doing, the way he insisted to the vestiges that OFA should be used.

Deku writing people off because they don't conform to his expectations, because they can't be "good" the way he wants them to be, nor even "bad" in ways he can understand, is him failing to live up to his own expressed ideals. "I wish you'd feel bad about hurting people," wasn't enough to reach Muscular or Overhaul, and it damn well shouldn't be enough to reach Shigaraki.

Cruelty does not beget kindness. You cannot treat people with only callousness and severity, then condemn them for not taking the opportunity to grow. You have to give them opportunities to better themselves. For Overhaul, giving him an opportunity would be letting him help the man he wronged and then moving forward from there. Telling him to feel regret about Eri or else? That's doing nothing but sweeping his pain back under the rug.

---

*I have more or less exhausted my outrage over Lady Nagant in chats with friends, so I'll spare the rant on how disjointed, contradictory and ludicrous her turn was; the gist is "very, on all counts."

---

P.S. Anyone who says that Overhaul "has nothing left to live for" is being a level of ableist that defies description. Prosthetics exist. Assistive devices exist. Speech-to-text software exists. Overhaul is intelligent, driven and highly educated. Even if he never got prosthetics at all, there would still be things he could contribute to the world if he were motivated to do so. The better thing to do, though, would be to get the man some damn prosthetics, hook him up with the neurologist consulting on Pops' case, and let the two of them get on with the matter of waking up the old man.

P.P.S. Overhaul spent six months in solitary confinement. The United Nations considers solitary confinement exceeding 15 days to be a form of torture. Solitary confinement creates severe mental health issues and exacerbates existing ones. It frequently leads to a deadening of empathy, something Overhaul has in little enough amounts as it is. It is absurd to ask a man who's just come out of these conditions to "feel sorry for what you did to Eri," especially if you're planning to turn around and send him right back to solitary. Tartarus is inhuman, and the only reason more of the escapees aren't total wrecks like Overhaul is because Horikoshi clearly didn't bother to do the reading on the wide array of problems that those characters should be experiencing physically, mentally and socially.

#bnha #bnha critical #deku critical #bnha overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha muscular #my writing?#stillness has salt #bnha spoilers #one last salty post before I go back to working on things for characters and plots I actually like in this series #taking my life into my hands and posting this in the tags #but seriously #please please let Horikoshi realize #that Deku saying he wants to use OFA to save villains and then doing nothing but using OFA to beat them down again #is not Deku WINNING #it is Deku LOSING #saving someone takes more than rescuing them from a bullet that wasn't going to hit them anyway #if you don't have follow-through then you're just condemning people to fall through the cracks

315 notes · View notes

adorerdraco · 4 years

Text

Good Enough ✧ Draco x Hufflepuff!Reader

Request: hiii i love your writing!! can you write about a sweet hufflepuff and how everyone thinks they aren’t a good pair together so one day Pansy bullies the reader into breaking it off with Draco because she feels like she’s not good enough for him then draco finds out and he’s really mad at Pansy?

Another seventh year AU where Voldermort never existed !

Warnings: bullying, slight angst, crying, cursing (barely), sad!draco, angry!draco, implied smut towards the end (also extra mean slytherins for the purpose of this imagine but i have nothing against them i <3 them as much as any other house)

Words: 4.5K

A/N: hiii thank youuuu 🥺💗 !!!!!! but ahhhh omg im a hufflepuff so i hope i delivered good hufflepuff energy in this oneee :’))) i think this might be my new favorite thing ive written omg but i do not own gif

There was truly no explanation how you, a kind Hufflepuff, managed to become friends, let alone a couple, with the proud and arrogant Slytherin Prince, Draco Malfoy.

On the outside, your relationship to everyone seemed uncanny and plain wrong. Even your friends and housemates had looked down on it for a while but eventually came around and just let you be. You couldn’t say the same for the Slytherin’s, however, because if there was one house they disliked more than Gryffindor; it was Hufflepuff.

They berated you and Draco for weeks after they found out he had started a relationship with you. They scowled at you when you would walk by them sometimes calling you names depending on whether or not Draco was by your side. He always defended you and you did your best to ignore them, but they were relentless. You had only been dating for about a month now and the tantalizing comments from Slytherin’s and anyone else who wanted tear the two of you down were right now seeming endless.

“Why can’t people leave us alone,” you said sadly to him one night. You were lying with him in a patch of grass outside the castle, head against his chest as his hand lazily traced patterns onto your bicep.

“They’re only jealous,” he sneered quietly. “People get mad at what they can’t have or what they can't understand.”

Draco’s patience with people was worsening each and every day. His housemates, regularly, would corner him in the common room and interrogate him with questions that made him want to rip his hair out.

“Is this some sort of prank you haven’t told us about, Malfoy?”

“A Hufflepuff? Have you gone mad?”

“Is she blackmailing you with something, mate?”

“Haven’t you thought about how that makes us Slytherin’s look?”

“She’s a blood-traitor!”

The questioning would always lead to him yelling and threatening everyone aggressively before he locked himself in his Prefect dorm or would leave the common room altogether in a fury. Those were the days he would find you after he calmed down and would hug you tightly, pressing kisses all over your face as he praised you with everything he adored about you to how happy you made him and how perfect you were for him.

You, on the other hand, were dealing with much worse. You never told Draco some of the awful things people would say to you when he wasn’t around. You would stand up for yourself very rarely, confrontation not really being your first approach to handling things but when the insults were bad enough, you were forced to.

You would always hear a variation of the same things said either directly to you or from obvious whispering, majority of them being from Slytherin and the occasional judgmental comment from others.

“Filthy Hufflepuff!”

“Can’t believe one of them is dating one of ours.”

“What does Malfoy even see in her?”

“You’d think someone who’s supposed to be kind wouldn’t want anything to do with such an arse.”

More than ever, Draco found himself giving you an excessive amount of compliments and reassurances that he thought would balance out the insults and criticisms you would tell him about or he would witness. Everything he would tell you was true, of course, but you always felt like he said them out of pity or like he had to.

“I appreciate you trying to make it better, but you don’t have to keep complimenting me, Dray.” You’ve said to him countless times.

And he would often respond with, “but I need you to know how I feel about you.”

Despite the constant uphill battle, your relationship with the platinum blond was everything you hoped for and more. Considering your friendship had started on rocky beginnings a year ago, you would have never thought you’d be with him now. You couldn’t thank the stars more for when your aged and nearly blind owl had flown straight into the back of his head, pecking at him while he tried to swat it away which then led to him giving you a piece of his mind and trying to hex your owl - causing you to try to hex him just as McGonagall happened to be passing by the fiasco that landed both of you in a months-long detention for reckless magic usage. It was in detention when the two of you were forced to spend time together and realized that the other wasn’t as bad as they thought.

Draco, much like everyone else, always believed Hufflepuffs to be weak and cowardly, too kind for their own good - but he quickly learned how common of a misconception that was the longer he knew you. You always fought for what was morally right, defended those you love and are loyal to courageously, and were sweet and friendly with everyone you talked to whether you knew them or not.

He gravitated towards your kindness and empathetic approach to everything. He loved to see the smiles you put on people’s faces or the way animals would randomly come up to you and immediately trust you enough to give them gentle pets that they always leaned into. He even loved the way you talked to everyone as your equals, something he rarely saw in his environment. Everything you did was a vast difference to what he saw on the daily from his cold and aloof peers, but it was a difference he enjoyed. He wished so deeply that everyone could see and understand how amazing you were to him and he was determined to make it happen.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked shyly as he held your hand tightly in his, walking you slowly over to his large group of his closest Slytherin friends that were all gathered around a bench under a tree in the courtyard.

The Prince of Slytherin believed that if he could get his friends to at least tolerate you, then everyone else would follow in suit. He only associated himself with the best and most influential of his house so if there was anyone that could improve his current situation; it would be them. You were a little uneasy about his plan, but later agreed when he had convinced you that his idea couldn’t and wouldn’t fail.

“Of course it is!” He exclaimed encouragingly. “Plus, I’m Draco Malfoy, they’ll like anything I tell them to like.”

“Okay,” you sighed, rolling your eyes slightly at his boast.

The closer you got to them, the more you felt your hands begin to sweat and the heat crawling up your face. They all began to turn towards the two of you, their eyes focusing on you and you only with a pointed gaze. You started to realize how greatly you underestimated how intimidating they looked. Especially the one girl who made it her mission to bother you every chance she could get - always from afar while she pointed at you and whispered something into her friend’s ears while they laughed or when she would pass by you and say something rude under her breath.

“Look what Malfoy’s dragged in!” Pansy Parkinson called out with a malicious smirk on her face as she eyed you.

“Give it a rest, Pansy,” Blaise sighed, “If Malfoy wants us to meet his little friend then so be it.”

“Not my little friend, my girlfriend,” Draco corrected angrily as the two of you finally reached the group. “This is Y/N and I wanted you all to meet her since I plan on having her around for a long while, so you might as well get used to it.”

“Long while? Poor thing can’t even introduce herself,” Pansy laughed tauntingly.

“I think Draco introduced me just fine right now but if you want, I’ll do it again to make you feel better,” you smiled a big fake toothy grin at her. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

Everyone snickered at your response, watching for the girl’s reaction as her nostrils flared in irritation. Draco smiled to himself and gave your hand a quick squeeze, feeling proud that you found a way to talk back to her in the nicest way possible.

“Right, well, I’m sure you know this is; Goyle, Crabbe, Zabini, Pike, Flint, Nott, and...” Draco pointed to everyone, trailing off when he reached the only girl in the group, “I don’t think that one needs an introduction, she rather do it herself, right Parkinson?”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, giving the blond a false squinty-eyed grin with attitude.

“So, you want us to be the nice to the Hufflepuff then?” Zabini questions, pointing a finger towards you.

“Yes, I want you to be nice to, Y/N,” Draco corrected again, his hand getting tighter in your grasp as he spoke. “That goes for all of you and everyone else in this bloody house. I don’t want to hear anything bad about her or us coming from anyone ever again or you’ll have me to answer to. I don’t care how friendly we are.”

“So he has to defend you too now?” Pansy spoke again, “Merlin, it’s a wonder how you Hufflepuff sort even survive in this world.”

Before anyone could say anything, you mustered up all the courage you had and stepped forward towards the irked girl in front of you.

“Listen, I don’t want any more trouble with you or anyone,” you rushed out. “I just want to go about my day without having to hear how disgusting and weak I am.”

She opened her mouth to retaliate but Blaise put a hand in front of her and pushed her back before she got any closer to you.

“Alright, we’ll try,” he answered for the group quickly in an annoyed tone, “but I can’t promise that for the rest of Slytherin. They really don’t like you guys together, thinks it makes them look bad. Eventually, they’ll get tired of it and move on to the next.”

“That’s as good as its gonna get,” Goyle guffawed, Crabbe and Pike snickering alongside him.

You sighed, looking up at Draco and slightly tugging at his hand while you silently begged him to take you out of there but he didn’t catch the hint and instead did the complete opposite when he had turned towards the only boy in the group who seemed to have brains.

“Zabini, can I talk to you really quick?” He asked gruffly. Blaise deeply sighed and nodded, the two boys breaking away from the group and stopping a few feet away before talking in angry hushed voices to each other.

You - all of a sudden felt very small and sick, your eyes frantically bouncing around the group as they watched you squirm. Pansy took this as her chance to step closer towards you, stopping a few inches away from you while a smirk made its way onto her face.

“Since you obviously don’t see the bigger picture, I’ll paint it for you,” she began contemptuously, “you and Draco really don’t belong together, at all. Sure, you might think everything’s fine right now, but what’ll happen when he gets tired of defending you and proving you to everyone. You think Hogwarts is your problem? Just wait until you meet the Malfoy’s. Do you really think his father would like or even tolerate a filthy blood traitor like you?”

You gaped at her, taking a few shaky steps away from her as her words hit you like a truck.

“Think about it, Y/L/N,” she gets in your face again, her hand reaching up to grip your shoulder tightly to hold you in place. “He needs to be with someone of his status, a pure-blooded Slytherin who comes from a good wealthy family who holds all the same beliefs as the Malfoy’s. If I were you, I’d end it before you ruin his life any more than you already have and end up leaving him without a family or his inheritance.”

“Are you trying to say that ‘someone’ should be you?” You question through gritted teeth, shrugging your shoulder hard out of her clawed grasp.

“I never said that,” she smiles, “but who am I to say it shouldn’t be?”

Pansy tauntingly walked away from you, a smug look on her face as she noticed just how obviously she had hurt you. You wanted to run away and cry, but you held it together for the sake of your last remaining dignity and so that you wouldn’t please your assailant even more than you already have.

Draco turned to stroll back towards the group with Blaise, his eyes landing on your shuddering figure and the broken look in your eyes as they met his. He looked around at the rest of the group who were talking amongst themselves, unknowing to them that Parkinson had just ripped a new one on you. She stood around them, looking at her nails with an uninterested look in her eyes and when she felt Draco’s eyes on her, she looked up and smiled at him innocently.

‘Bitch,’ you thought.

He slowly walked towards you, taking your hand and deeply frowning when you immediately slipped it out of his.

“What’s wrong?” His voice dripped with concern, his sad gray’s searching your face for any answer as to why you were suddenly acting so cold.

“I need to talk to you,” you breathed out. “Alone.”

He nodded, instinctively reaching out for your hand only for you to reject it again. He felt queasy at the response, his heart falling to his stomach as you turned around and began walking away. His legs were moving hastily behind you, a dooming tension had fallen between the two of you and he couldn’t for the life of him find a reason why.

Pansy’s words were like a game of pinball on a constant loop in your mind. Your thoughts were bumping and flying haphazardly as you tried to make sense of them and what you were about to do. And as much as you hated to admit it - the wench was right. You would never be able to offer Draco and his family anything that would ever be close to enough. You were just a sweet, regular Hufflepuff, someone far from who his family expected to date. And what if you did end up staying with him? You figured you would end up breaking up years later when he would be forced to marry someone else. Or in the slight chance, he fought against that, there was no way you’d forgive yourself if he lost his family and his future because of your own selfish needs.

You stopped at an empty corridor, sitting at one of the windowsills you regularly sat at with the platinum blond when the two of you snuck out at night to meet each other. Your head fell into your hands, your thoughts raging louder in your head and now through your body as you began to unwillingly shake. The held back tears had finally broken out in a waterfall of sadness, frustration, and grief.

Draco only watched, his heartbreaking at the sight as he kneeled in front of you, his hands resting on your knees while he tried to figure out what to say.

“Darling, please tell me what’s gotten you like this,” he pleads sadly. “If it’s about what Blaise said, I made a deal with him so he would try and help.”

“No, it’s not that,” you answered, choking back the lump in a feeble attempt to try and get yourself calmed down enough to talk to him.

He sat back on his heels, his hand running down his face in distress as he racked through his brain for anything else that might have gotten you like this. He let you cry for a bit, feeling useless as he watched you go through an internal battle he had no clue about.

“Then what is it? Tell me and I’ll fix it,” he says softly when he saw your tears had finally been reduced to stray droplets on your face.

“You can’t,” you sniffle. Your hand weakly brushed over his paled slender fingers that were holding your knee gently. He turned his palm upwards for you and you placed your shaking hand in his while you basked in the final moments of his warmth. You regrettably slipped out of his grip before you spoke the words you couldn’t take back. “We can’t be together anymore.”

Draco blinked, his stomach dropping as soon as the words left your mouth. “What?”

You stood up, backing away from him as you shook your head. “Everyone was right - I’ll never be good enough for you, for your friends, for your family. You deserve to be with someone who makes your life easier, not harder.”

“Where did all this come from?” He asks incredulously, standing up from his spot on the floor as he painfully watched your slowly retreating figure. “It’s all rubbish is what it is. You’ve never made my life harder.”

“Draco, look around you!” You exasperated, your arms flailing around you. “You had to make a deal with your own friends for them to even be nice to me. Your house can’t stand me and they take it out on the both of us! And what about your parents? You know for a fact they would hate me, don’t even try and deny it.”

Pale hands ran through his hair, his fingers pulling at the platinum strands in frustration.

“I thought you didn’t care about all that,” he said woefully. “I thought you’d know by now none of it matters.”

“Well, I care now,” you answer back gloomily. “And you should too.”

There was a spinning and nauseating feeling in the pit of the Slytherin’s stomach, his heart violently jumping around in his chest as he let you storm away from him.

He let his back fall against a pillar, a deep and burning exhale falling from his trembling lips while he stared at a live painting across from him. It was of three women, the chalices in their hands supposed to be joined in a toast above them while they smiled gleefully in celebration, 3 of Chalices, it read in the caption below the frame. Instead of being in their usual position, they stared at him with pity in their softly painted eyes as they slowly raised their cups towards him in a way of showing their condolences.

He nodded curtly at them before he kicked himself off the wall and dragged himself towards the Great Hall where they were serving dinner and where he would undoubtedly find his so-called friends. He prepared himself to break the news to them, knowing they would be over the moon about it and as much as he wanted to join them in their delight, he couldn’t push away the large ache that had settled itself in his chest.

“We’re done,” he muttered dreadfully to himself, “it’s over.”

He was testing out different ways he could tell everyone the long-awaited news but they all left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I think you’ll all be delighted to know, Y/N-” he tried again but he lost his train of thought when he spoke your name. It was like taking an invisible kick to his heart as if Peeves the Poltergeist had somehow crawled into his body and was wreaking his usual havoc on his insides.

The second he stepped into the Great Hall and saw his group sitting there, eating and laughing amongst everyone else, he felt sick all over again. There was no way he could stomach the triumph they were about to unleash, but he sucked it up and drudged towards them anyway.

“You look ghastly,” Pansy snickers, already having a feeling as to why he looked so rough. He stopped at the bench, hesitating to sit down because he knew he’d want to dash the second everyone started to relentlessly bash you.

“Deal’s off, Zabini,” the blond spoke lowly. “I’m not with Y/L/N anymore so it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re better off without her, Malfoy,” Blaise said delightedly. “Can’t believe you nearly had us associating with a blood traitor. It’s better that she’s gone.”

“Yeah, we ought to thank Pansy for that,” Crabbe laughed loudly through a mouthful of food. Pansy kicked his shin under the table, and he recoiled too fast, the food in his mouth getting shot in the wrong direction as he started choking.

“Pansy?” Draco repeated, his eyes falling towards the shying girl. “What did Pansy do?”

“What?” Crabbe coughed roughly, “did no one else see her talking to the ickle Hufflepuff?”

Pansy kicked him again and he wailed out a “stop kicking me, you donkey!”

Any ounce of sadness Draco had in his body was immediately washed out in rage. He wanted to flip over the table and scream at everyone in his path, but he only turned towards Pansy again and asked her calmly.

“What did you say to her?”

“I only told her the truth!” She said coyly, holding her hands up in defense.

“What” his fist had slammed onto the table making everyone sitting near the contact jump in surprise, “did you say to her!”

“The truth! Or are you too blind to see it too?” She sneered at him. “Do you honestly think the two of you would last? Look at who you are, Draco!”

“Talk to me ever again and I swear I’ll hex you,” he spat, turning hot on his heel as he stormed out of the Great Hall, his friends staring at his retreating figure in shock at the outburst.

Draco found himself rushing through stairs and corridors, his heart racing as he searched for the place he just knew you’d be. Now that he knew the full story, he needed to talk to you. Even if you didn’t change your mind, he wanted to at least try to fix what had been broken. The tall and bronzed doors were ajar, a small light filtering through the dark corridor he was nearly running down.

A mop of bright silver hair had peaked through the crack in the doors of the Hogwarts kitchen, worried gray eyes following in suit as they searched the room for its target. He found you hunched over a small dessert plate, a half-eaten cake being drenched in your tears that never seemed to stop. There was a house-elf next to you, looking up at you from the floor in concern while they patted your leg.

“Mister!” a scraggly voice croaked out from below him. He looked down to find a rugged looking house-elf staring up at him with furrowed eyebrows and hands on its hips. “Students are prohibited in the kitchen.”

“There’s a student right there,” he pointed towards you.

“She’s an exception!” the elf exclaimed wildly.

Draco shook his head before walking past the small creature, power walking straight towards you while it ran behind him.

“Wait till Gonpy tells the Headmaster about this!” The elf calls, “Gonby asks your name, sir!””

“Vincent Crabbe,” Draco answers mindlessly as he continued walking towards the far end of the room that very closely resembled the Great Hall and its vastness.

The familiar accent rang through your ears, your glassy eyes shooting up in surprise when you see the reason for your tears hurrying towards you.

“Before you say anything, you need to listen to me,” he starts desperately once he reaches you. “I know it was Pansy who put those thoughts into your head. I know you think you’re not enough for me. And I know you think I was always complimenting you out of pity, but you couldn’t be more wrong about any of that. I say all those things to you because I mean it. You are everything to me. You are more than enough for me just by being you. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been and sometimes I wonder if I’m even good enough for you. But you need to understand how much I love you.”

“Draco,” you breathe, heart leaping in your chest at his rambling speech, “I love you too. But what about everyone else, how are we even supposed to be with each other in peace?”

“To hell with everyone else,” he responds quickly, walking around the edge of the table so that he was now only mere centimeters away from you. “Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes, of course,” you blink at him, “but do you really think your parents would let this happen?”

“We’ll deal with them when the time comes,” he mumbles, his hand finding its way to your puffy cheek where he let it rest. “Besides, my mother likes anything that makes me happy, so I know for a fact at least she will end up loving you just as much as I do.”

You nodded happily, a new hope bubbling in your stomach as you lurched towards him and hugged the stressed boy against you tightly. The both of you let out a breath of relief at the same time from the contact, finally feeling back in balance after the short-lived sorrow.

He pulled away from you and leaned down into you, his lips capturing yours in a tender and passionate kiss. That was when the elves you had forgotten about had quickly stopped eavesdropping, scurrying themselves away from the table as they went to start cleaning up the kitchen.

It was minutes before you had finally pulled away, looking dreamily into the happy gray’s that gazed back at you. You admired him for a couple seconds, feeling very content before you reached up towards him again, tangling your hands in his hair and pressing another kiss onto his now swollen lips. He moved needily against you, pushing your body flush the table as he held you tightly against him.

“Ahem,” a small voice uncomfortably called out from below. It was the same elf who had chased Draco down the kitchen when he walked in, a frown on his face as he stared at the two of you. “Gonpy and the house-elves make food here!”

“I’m sorry, Gonpy,” you hurriedly apologize, ripping yourself away from a ragged breathing Draco as you bent down to shake hands with the elf. “Thank you for making me cake and letting me cry here, you’re a Hogwarts hero.”

“Gonpy thanks you, Miss Y/L/N! The truest, kindest Hufflepuff!”

Draco bit back a smile at the interaction. You stood up and reached your hand behind you for the Slytherin to take and as the two of you walked away, he yelled out a quick, “Thanks Gonpy!”

And once the two of you were near the exit, he wrapped his arms around you from behind and pressed his body against your back, lowering his mouth towards your ear and kissing the skin right below it before whispering, “do you want to go back to my dorm?”

You nodded eagerly, giggling loudly as the two of you stumbled out of the door underneath his hold and into the dimly lit corridor before pulling apart and racing towards the direction of the dungeons with his hand interlocked in yours.

2K notes · View notes

toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 years

Text

Going Back Home

Summary: Claire never thought she would be back in the town she grew up in. But after her fiancé broke off their engagement, leaving her 5 months pregnant and alone she found herself calling Frankie Morales in the middle of the night, one of her childhood friends who insisted that she booked the next flight out. Trying to fix her life with a little help from her friends she would find out soon that going back would be the best decision she ever made.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Claire Beck

wordcount: 3.1k

Warnings: more or less unplanned pregnancy, break up, mentions of sexual encounters

A/N: I am a weak weak person so here it is, a chaptered fic. I will try to update this weekly, but no promises. Rating will go up later. I'm attempting slow burn. Let's see how slow lol Let me know what you think. Reblogs are, as always, appreciated 💙

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

Even Though most of her happiest memories were connected with this town, the town she spent most of her life in, Claire never thought she actually would be back here. And certainly not pregnant and all by herself.

It wasn’t that she had been unhappy here. Claire just always wanted something… bigger. Something more. Something exciting. After her parents died and most of her friends moved away, there was nothing holding her back. Well, that wasn’t true. Frankie and Santiago were there. But only when they weren’t overseas or god knows where, which left her with her dream of being a journalist in a small town where she had no chance to ever make it.

She still remembered Santi’s face when she announced that it was her turn to leave just before they were about to be gone for months again. She had gotten a job in New York and thought for days about what to do until she took the job. That was eight years ago and they hadn’t seen each other in person since then.

Yet when she called Frankie three days ago in tears, it was like no time had passed. She wanted to call Santiago first, but she knew him. If she had told him what happened to her he would have gotten into his car and gotten to her, no matter if it took 3 straight days. No, she had called Frankie. He had listened to her for hours until he made her promise to book the next flight out.

When the fuck did her life become such a shit show?

Only a week ago, she had the dream job, was engaged and 5 months pregnant.

Claire was happy. Until her fiance came back from a work trip and suddenly announced that he wanted nothing to do with the child and moved out within days, leaving her on her own. Not even his phone number was working and she wasn’t gonna show up at his work. She wasn’t that desperate. She should have seen it coming. John never planned to have kids. But when Clarie found out that she was pregnant he had already asked her to marry him and maybe he was too proud to end the engagement back then. Thinking back maybe this was the reason he stayed. Because a part of him wanted to spend his life with her. They didn’t fight. He just moved out, told her that he would take care financially of her and the child, but that he didn’t want to be a father.

The first days she was just numb. Trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with, left her while she was pregnant with a child they didn’t plan but that she loved without a doubt. That was what kept her going. Her little bean. Claire would do anything to protect her little girl.

The guys to this day called her bean. She found herself thinking more of them since John left. Even without seeing them in the last years, they still stayed in contact. Not a week went by where she didn’t receive a letter. They had a group chat that was only used when they were at home and the bachelor was on. Cause fuck did they all hate that show but they watched it anyways.

Claire was okay with the whole suddenly being on her own thing, until she felt her baby move for the first time and turned in her bed to wake her fiance, finding the side empty and cold. For one tiny moment, she had forgotten that she was alone in a city where she had only a couple of friends who were his friends rather than hers. She had always had a hard time finding friends. That probably wouldn’t change.

Sucking her bottom lip in, she rested one hand on her belly as she waited for her luggage to arrive. She slept almost through the entire flight. Claire had gotten rid of the last eight years of her life in the last 48 hours. She wanted to start fresh. She needed a fresh start. Even if she had no idea how to deal with all of this on her own.

A woman next to her helped her get her suitcases on the cart, noticing that Claire was on her own. Pushing the cart through security she saw Frankie as soon as the door opened and next to him Ben, Will and Santiago who all smiled at her, while she felt the first tears escaping her eyes.

She had met Ben and Will only a couple times, they were living an hour away, but they became part of the group immediately. Once upon a time her childhood best friend, Leah, was in that group too. Claire hadn’t thought of Leah in a long time. She had died in a car accident almost 12 years ago.

Arms pulled her in a warm embrace and even after years of not seeing each other for such a long time, she still noticed Frankie’s scent.

“We got you,” he whispered, kissing her hair. She sobbed once before she was pulled into Santi’s arms.

“Look at you,” he smiled before he looked down at her belly.

“And look at you?” he smiled and leaned down.

“Hello, this is your favorite Uncle speaking,” he winked, bending down to speak directly to her belly, making her chuckle.

“Oh please, we all know I’m gonna be the favorite, hey bean,” Will hugged her.

“Don’t listen to them baby girl, we know they're all gonna spoil you rotten,” she grinned, letting Ben kiss her cheek.

“So you’re staying?” Frankie asked and you nodded.

“I already called some realtors. I wanna get this over as quickly as possible. Already sold everything back in New York,” Claire said, looking at the two men who formed most of her teenage years.

“Okay. Let’s get you out of this airport first. You okay to stay with Frankie? He has the biggest house,” Santiago asked, pushing the cart as you slowly walked towards the exit with Ben’s arm around her shoulder.

“Uh… I don’t wanna impose. I could just take a room…”

“Fuck no. Stay at my place. It’s my Pa’s old ranch. I’m renovating it.”

“What? No way!” she said surprised but Frankie only nodded.

“Yeah after Liz and South America I needed something to keep me busy. Also needed more space for Elena,” he explained. A small smile sneaked to Claire’s face.

“I still can’t believe you’re a dad Frankie.”

“Can’t believe you gonna be a mom. Fuck we’re really adults now, huh?” he winked and Claire sighed.

“Certainly didn’t plan it that way. Or planned it at all,” she said sadly before she shook her head as if to get rid of the sad thoughts clouding her mind.

“I meant it, Claire. We got you. We are bored most times anyways.”

“Hey speak for yourself, Fish. I got a business,” Santi said.

“Yeah. Yeah. Me too. But after work you’re either drunk or after some pussy so?” Ben grinned, making her chuckle.

“So still no ladies in your life, boys?” Claire asked as they reached what definitely was Frankie’s truck. It had his company name on it. “Morales gardening”

“Nope. But now that you’re here we could finally….” Will started only for Claire to look away in disgust, making them all laugh.

“You ready to become a Daddy, Will?” she asked, her hands both on her belly.

“Uhm… of course?” he answered and she chuckled.

“That’s what I thought,” she patted his cheek.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted,” Frankie said and opened the door for her.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for the BBQ,” they all waved. She waved back, letting Frankie help her inside before he closed the door behind her and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“BBQ?” she asked.

“Can’t blame the folks from wanting to welcome you, bean,” he winked.

“What folks?”

“Ya know. Folks. You gonna see,” he looked at Claire. He felt better now that she was here. Frankie had missed her these last years, the couple of calls throughout hadn’t nearly been enough. And when she called two days ago in tears… He would have gotten the chopper and flown over but he couldn’t risk it. He had to be on good behaviour to be able to keep seeing his daughter.

“I missed you, Francisco,” she whispered.

“Missed you too, Bean.”

The sun was already setting when Frankie drove down a familiar path. Claire had spent countless days on this ranch when she was younger.

“How is your Dad doing?” she asked softly and Frankie sighed as he killed the engine in front of the house.

“I fucking hate that I can’t take care of him on my own, but he’s hanging in there.”

“I’d like to visit him if you’re okay with that,” she reached over squeezing his hand and he looked at her with a small smile.

“I bet he would love that.”

“And I’m sure he would have wanted it this way, Francisco. You know your dad. He wouldn’t have wanted you to drop everything for him. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said quietly.

“Damn I really missed you Bean,” he shook his head.

“Missed you too,” she let her head fall against his shoulder.

Claire didn’t really have eyes for the house, all she wanted was to go to sleep.

“I finished the guest room this morning for you,” Frankie said, setting one of her suitcases down as he opened the door.

“Please tell me you didn’t work overnight to finish this,” she sighed looking at him. He was rubbing the back of his head, pulling the cap he was always wearing down and avoiding her eyes.

Knowingly she shook her head, but couldn’t help the smile sneaking to her face.

“I won’t say it. But please don’t touch the walls, they might still be wet,” he said and she chuckled.

“Okay. Bathroom is over there. The shower isn’t working yet but you’re welcome to use mine. Will is coming over to take a look and make this one work. Other than that if you need anything just ask. Until you found a place this is your home.”

“You really didn’t have to do this, Frankie,” she said quietly, feeling overwhelmed by all of this. So many things had changed in such a short amount of time for her and she only now seemed to realize that she was indeed about to be a single mom.

“I wanted to. You’re… You don’t deserve to be treated like this. So let us help you, okay?” he said softly and she nodded but avoided his eyes.

“Okay. Go to sleep. My room is down the hallway if you need anything,” he stepped closer, kissing her forehead and for one tiny moment, she felt like the 15 year old teenager again who was crushing on Frankie Morales.

“Good night, Francisco,” she smiled.

“Good night, bean,” he whispered before he turned around and closed the door behind him.

Claire looked around, in awe of the room, the bed looking so inviting to her. Sighing she walked over to the window, knowing she would be able to see the whole property during the day. Crossing her arms in front of her she closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of nature that she had no idea she had missed living in the city for all these years. She felt a fluttering in her belly, her hand wandering down to feel a kick.

“We’ll be happy here, I promise,” she vowed, rubbing over her belly.

She didn’t want to disturb Frankie, even though she could hear the TV running so she just washed herself at the sink before she put her Pajamas on and sat down on the bed. She would unpack tomorrow. For now she had to sleep.

The sun wasn’t even up when Claire woke up. She turned in bed, propping herself up so she could look out the window and watch the sunrise. She had to make a plan. A plan that included finding a house, a doctor and help. Though help would be her smallest problem. She already looked at houses in the area and it didn’t look good. If she had more time she would buy the house just down this road, but there was no way the house would be ready before her due date. She would ask Santi for help. He had a lot of connections through his business. Though Frankie too. Claire knew that he had a little gardening company since he lost his pilot’s license. He never really talked about it, but then again, they didn’t talk that much. She knew that he had some problems with drugs in the past, but that he has been clean for almost two years and was doing better. She also knew that there was a lot more to this story then he had told her. Maybe they would have time to talk. To really talk. Groaning to herself, her quiet and peaceful morning was interrupted by her bladder. Time to start the day.

For a minute she wondered if she could risk sneaking into Frankie’s room to take a shower when she heard music playing. Grabbing her bathrobe and toiletries she opened the door and walked down. Now being really awake she had time to take in the house. It seemed like there still was a lot to do. The walls were still unpainted, the floors still old, though she could see he already started with the floor the closer she got to the kitchen.

Frankie was sitting at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in front of him as the radio quietly played in the background. He had a serious case of bed hair and she smiled to herself. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she found herself thinking back to all the times she had thought that maybe there was something more in between them than friendship. And maybe there was at one point a long time ago. But that was before he joined the military. She might be selfish for it, but she couldn’t be in a relationship where her partner was gone all the time. She needed someone to be there. Even Though there had been times in the past she had found herself asking if maybe she should have risked it.

Instead she had slept with Santiago.

Yeah, that was a big fuck up. Well it was also a pretty good fuck but it was just once and they definitely were better off as friends. She still didn’t know if Frankie knew. Not that she had to explain herself. Frankie always knew what effect he had on the women around him, and he sure as hell took advantage of it. And now she felt nothing more than love for him. As a friend, nothing more.

“Good Morning,” she said quietly and Frankie turned his head, yawning at her.

Chuckling she walked over taking in the kitchen, setting her toiletries down.

“You weren’t kidding when you say you were still renovating,” she sat down next to him. He got up from his seat walking over to fix her a mug of tea.

“Still hooked on Strawberry tea, I hope?” he asked and she nodded, surprised that he remembered.

“Yeah. Though the kitchen and living room are supposed to be finished by the end of next week. So sorry for the noise in the next couple days,” he walked over and set down the mug of tea in front of her.

“Hey it’s your house. I’m just thankful you let me stay.”

“Of course. Couldn’t let you stay in the dumpster motel in this town,” he winked. She took a sip of the tea and it was perfect.

“So what are you planning for today?” he asked.

“I probably should start looking into houses. I’m kind of on a timetable here,” she rested one hand on her belly and Frankie followed her movement.

“Yeah. I think Pope already called someone for some houses. It’s not looking good.”

“Yeah I thought so. Everything I found on the internet was in really bad shape,” she sighed.

“It’s gonna work out. And if you don’t find something, you’re welcome to stay. The place is big enough,” he shrugged and Claire laughed quietly.

“Yeah I bet you can’t wait to live with a hormonal pregnant woman and then with a newborn,” she joked.

“I lived with Pope. Nothing can be worse and…”

“And?” she asked.

“I already lived with a hormonal pregnant woman. It’s not that bad,” he shrugged with a small smile. She looked at him with a small smile on her face.

“You say that now. Wait till I’m craving your mug cake at 3am now that I’m living with you,” she joked. Frankie laughed.

“Wow I haven’t had one of those in at least 10 years.”

“Well then it’s about time.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, looking at Claire. She looked more relaxed today, like she had a good night’s sleep and he was thankful he put in an overnight to finish the guest room for her. She deserved to relax. When she told him that she not only was pregnant but dumped by her fiance Frankie was furious, yet at the same time he already decided that he would take care of her and help her with everything she needed. It was the least he could do.

Even though they grew apart in the last years, she still was one of his best friends.

“Okay. I’m gonna go take a shower. I got to drive out to check on a project. You gonna be okay here for a while?” Frankie asked. Claire nodded, grabbing her mug of tea.

“Just tell me when you’re going out so I can take a shower,” she said.

“Thank you, Frankie,” she whispered when she stopped next to him and softly kissed his cheek, before she walked down the hallway. Frankie looked after her with a soft smile before he got up to get ready to head out.

Next chapter

#my writing #going back home #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x ofc #pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #frankie morales fanfiction

196 notes · View notes

tojiaesth · 3 years

Text

ice queen, one.

toji fushiguro x f!reader

summary: figure skater!y/n once found solace in the scratching of her blade against the ice, the aches and pains of her body proof of her dedication. after breaking world records and reaching the top she so desperately climbed her way to, she’s at a loss. a meeting by chance, broken promises and guarded walls, y/n gets more than she bargained for by one introspective man.

word count: 500+

warnings: mentions of self harm, panic attacks, toxic parents, neglect, poor mental/physical health, angst, mentions of weight loss.

A/N: apologies for the lack of toji in this first part, i’m trying to set the scene. enjoy <3

series masterlist -> current -> two

“Enough. You’ve been at it for 12 hours, Y/N. That was your tenth landed jump in a row. I think you’ll be fine.”

Your good friend Shoko called from one of the many empty seats she occupied. You were pushing yourself, the winter olympics would begin in less than two weeks and being nervous was an understatement.

Truthfully? You were terrified, especially since you hadn’t told anyone your grand plan. This was a fail safe because if you landed it then great! But if you failed or chickened out, no one would be none the wiser.

Sweat trickled down your forehead, the tendons in your leg screaming at you to stop. You relished that feeling, to the point where your coach scolded you, believing it was a form of self harm.

He actually had no idea you were practicing today, having been at it all day yesterday he insisted you have a day off. If he saw you now, he’d drag you back home and probably lock you in the house. He meant well but you were stubborn.

How else would you silence those thoughts?

You oddly adored the feeling of pushing yourself to the limit, basking in the comfort it gave you. Sometimes you’d find yourself panicking, at 24, you gave almost 20 years of your life to skating and the hard pill to swallow was you had no other skills - never bothering to pay attention. So when your muscles were groaning in pain and your heart rate so fast you felt like dying, you soothed the many anxieties whirring around your brain. You weren’t useless. You were committed to the one thing that you were extremely talented in.

As you skated towards the entrance to the rink, you debated landing one more triple axel then decided against it. You didn’t need more of Shoko’s lectures.

“You should really take better care of your body.”

It was almost as if she read your mind, suddenly appearing in front of you as you were lost in your thoughts.

“It’s fine, it’s how I’ve done things for years, Shoko I really don’t need a lecture right now.” Exasperated, you reached for your water bottle, allowing the cool water to slide down your throat. You looked at her from the corner of your eye as you gulped as much as possible and she had the same disapproving look on her face.

She was here for moral support, having flown in from Seoul. The 2022 Winter Olympics were being hosted in Tokyo, perfect for you as it meant zero travelling. You were grateful she was here, having been part of the handful of people who actually cared about your skating.

“Yeah I’m all too aware of that! It goes in one ear and out the other…I mean which one of us is the doctor, hmm?” She questioned, eyes settling on the way you limped to the nearest chair. You peeled off your skates,

“You, seeing as its all you ever talk about.”

Shoko threw your face towel that you placed beside you.

“God, you’re so difficult, but I love you and I really think you should rest until the competiton.”

“Gross don’t ever throw a sweaty towel at me again.” You massaged your bruised toes through your tights, you had strategically placed plasters and then thick socks on top to help with the many blisters you had acquired but it did nothing.

“Don’t change the subject.” Shoko sighed and kneeled down in front of you, preventing you from avoiding her questions.

“Look, I know you like the back of my hand. I know what this is about. Your parents do not deserve you, okay? You don’t have to prove-“

You cut her off immediately and stood up, hiding a wince at the sudden heaviness in your legs. It was like someone strapped 100kg weights to them and you couldn’t wait to soak in a warm bath.

You were tired, physically and emotionally and the last thing you wanted to talk about were your parents.

“Can we not.” You tried your very best not to snap, “I’m tired and hungry, let’s just go get some food please and not mention my parents.”

Picking up the piece of equipment you lived and breathed, you walked - or rather limped - towards the changing room where you wanted nothing more than to wash the stress off your back. Your neglectful parents, your perfect brother Akira who in their eyes never did anything wrong, your friends who continued to break their promises and now the impending sense of doom from this much anticipated event resulted in a migraine coming on. Your heart palpitations worsened and you could feel the beginnings of a panic attack.

You sped up, fumbling with the door of the lock so Shoko wouldn’t have more to worry about and tried to calm down your breathing. Okay, what can I see, smell, taste, hear and…what was the last one? A stupid trick you remembered from your old therapist but now all you could zone in on was your pulse quickening and the constricting of your chest. It felt like you were dying and as you went down on all fours, one hand clutching your chest you could feel the warm, salty tears slither down your cheek and fall onto the floor.

Your eyes were glued to how it made a perfect circle and you imagined it becoming a huge puddle. So big, people could see their reflections in it. They all gathered around the weird lady who cried so much it caused river banks to overflow. They marvelled at her talent, deliberately making her cry as a form of entertainment. Soon, the stupid story you made in your head naturally distracted your body.

That became your focal point. Five excruciating minutes later you stopped hyperventilating and could control the air going to your lungs.

Once you showered and got changed into much more comfortable clothes, you walked towards the mirror to dry and brush your hair. The woman who stared back was gaunt, eye bags prominent and intrusive paired with lifeless eyes that told your secrets. Your skin remained clear, the one aspect of your life you could actually be bothered with but your hair was knotted. You spent the next twenty minutes making it look presentable before realising you should get back to Shoko before she started a search party.

Your phone buzzed faintly from your locker and you ignored it. It continued as you placed your fingers on your eye bags and tutted. You just had to get through the Olympics, secure a gold medal and if your grand plan went through…of course you’d be happy.

You scoffed, you would 100% be content once it was over, despite the voice nagging at you that you said this if you came 1st in the Japanese national competitions last year - which you did. Shaking your head, you smoothed your t shirt down over your baggy jeans and reached for your snow boots. No, this time would be different.

They had to notice you. Once you see the proud smile on their faces at their daughter exceeding expectations it would all be worth it. All the crying, breakdowns, panic attacks, injuries and lack of social life would mean something.

Maybe then your slowly dying passion for skating would ignite, a fact you had pushed to the back of your long line of issues for the past two years. You would love skating again exactly like how you did when you were 16.

Yes.

“Finally, I was ready to break down the door.” Shoko remarked, rising from her seat as she watched you emerge round the corner thirty minutes later. She stretched and pocketed her phone,

“My ass is numb.”

Shoko noted the redness around your eyes and how much smaller you looked in your oversized shirt. You had lost weight. Too much. Shoko took the bag from your shoulder and walked on ahead to your confusion, but you said nothing and looked down at the phone in your hand.

One missed call from your brother, followed by a text.

Akira: Hey, I’m gonna catch a flight with Kou for your competition in a few days!! I know you wanted Mom and Dad but I asked and I think they have a lot on their plate. Missin you, I’ll see you soon okay? xx

Your eyes stung at the message. Akira probably sugar coated it as best as he could. You chewed your lip, doubting them actually having anything on their plate. Akira ran most of it. But there he was, gently telling you that your parents wouldn’t come and see their daughter compete in the Olympics. It was laughable.

Of course, you couldn’t hate your brother, it wasn’t his fault your parents treated him like the best thing that had ever happened to them. He was 11 months older than you, your mother had already told you countless times that you weren’t planned. He never bragged or made you feel crap. Sure he was dense sometimes, very childish and carefree - clearly not able to understand the weight on your shoulders and how desperately you craved your parents approval but he tried his best and was a good person.

He was business savvy, maybe explaining why your parents loved him for joining the humble family business and turning it into a multi-billion dollar corporation.

That was a lie. Akira could probably cause a war to happen and somehow your parents would blame you.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. The last thing you wanted was your intrusive thoughts to cause a rift with the only family member who cared for you. Over the years you tried your hardest not to let your parents treatment affect your relationship with your brother. You refused to give them the satisfaction of taking it out on him. Akira was always there for you as far as you could remember, when you fell and hit your knee a few weeks after you started skating, he comforted you. When you were left shivering in the snow for hours, your mother having forgotten to pick you up when you were 11, Akira made excuses and took your mind off it.

You needed to stop thinking about it before you dug up every awful occasion with your parents.

You finally focused on the next part of the message. Kou too? That cheered you up a little bit, you’d see your brother and the best friend you both shared. Kou was so calming to be around he’d do wonders for you on the day. Like Shoko, he was a doctor, but specialised in paediatrics. You missed his warm smile and infectious laugh. His hugs were the best too. Okay, you decided to stop moping. Honestly, you had a dream a few nights ago that no one attended and the crowd laughed and laughed and laughed.

At least that wouldn’t happen.

“Earth to Y/N!”

You looked up, Shoko looking at you with both concern and annoyance.

“I was calling you like fifty times, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine.”

The usual question by Shoko and the usual answer by you. This back and forth had gone on as far as you could remember.

“You wanna drive to yours and we order in, or shall we go out?” Shoko inquired, coming closer and looping her arm through yours.

“It’s freezing, let’s order in and watch some trash horror movie.” You brightened up at the concept of Shoko clinging to you in terror, only to be met with her glare.

Nonetheless, she assessed you were feeling a bit better now and had actually smiled, something you rarely did nowadays.

“Ugh, fine. For putting me through that trauma, desserts on you.”

“Deal.”

************************

“Shit. I can’t seem to land my jumps lately.” Mai tangled her fingers in her hair, frustrated. She had come to sit on the bench next to her twin sister Maki to rest and complain, instead being met with judgemental eyes.

“That’s because you’ve abandoned your technique. It’s so obvious who you’re copying Mai just do your own thing.”

Maki adjusted her glasses and continued, surprised that her usually quick to comeback sister had remained silent.

“You’ve come this far, at 17, you’re one of the youngest skaters to have this many wins. Why do you think? Because you’re talented. Don’t then ruin it all trying to model yourself after a completely different person.”

Mai groaned as her sister drummed her fingers on the table. The pressure was on, the Winter Olympics creeping closer and closer.

“But she’s amazing.” Mai pouted and began unlacing her skates, “I wanna be her.”

“No. You’ll be you. You’ll do exactly what she’s accomplished but even better.”

“I fucking hope so, Y/N L/N will be the death of me. That’s all who Mom talks about. How I have to beat her and then Dad joins in banging on about her technique. You know he told Coach to make me watch these long ass analysis videos of Y/N in slow motion.”

“Oof.” Maki stifled a laugh, if their Dad was anything it was driven.

“It gets worse. The videos were in Russian.”

Maki burst out laughing, setting off her sister as well as they both started sliding off the chair. Two minutes later they were still in fits of laughter, now on the floor and unsure what was so funny. They could never stop once something made them laugh, and had now begun to bring up every funny thing that happened in the last week.

The man in charge of locking up the rink glanced at the two identical girls giggling on the floor and couldn’t help but smile. He was one of the few people who could easily tell them apart when they were younger, earning his respect. He technically had no choice, they both practically lived here. Now it was easier, Mai having ear length hair and Maki deciding to keep it long.

“Girls, it’s 9pm this rink was supposed to be shut two hours ago.”

“Hayama-san, we’re so sorry.”

“No you’re not.” He replied simply and pursed his lips.

“Okay we’re not and we can’t promise we won’t do it again but we shall leave immediately!” Mai beamed at him and tugged Maki’s arm, assisting her in rising from the floor.

Maki bowed and said her apologies, albeit more sincere than her sister and they both walked off towards the changing room. Although both sisters knew how to skate, Maki was always less serious than her twin, seeing it more as a leisure activity than a serious sport. Her passion was in science, one day hoping to study astronomy.

Mai on the other hand insisted on being an Olympic gold medalist at the age of four. It excited their mother who then assumed Maki felt the same way, imagining both daughters becoming professional skaters. The dream was shattered when Maki became less interested around the age of 13, which her mother (with time) came to accept. Both her parents now poured all their dreams and aspirations into Mai which is why Maki ensured that she’d always stay by her sisters side, knowing her sensitive personality.

Not only was this Mai’s first time competing in the Olympics but she was up against her idol. Due to their age difference, Y/N and Mai never really interacted during national competitions, due to its separation of 18- (junior) and and 18+. (senior). But this time it was different. Maki was stressed, this was all the Zenin family raved about, so she couldn’t imagine what her sister was feeling.

Although having been observing her sister for the past few days, she could see Mai couldn’t contain her excitement.

While Maki perused over these thoughts, awaiting her sister who took years to get ready, her mind wandered again to Y/N L/N. She was a beautiful skater, Maki thought, renowned for her agility and ballerina-like moves. At only 24, she was pretty much iconic in the skating world, winner of tons of competitions in which most people either resented her or worshipped her. She set trends, her music and outfit choices as well as hairstyles in her programs were usually plastered over social media the next day. She must’ve been the pride and joy of her family. Maki imagined her as cocky at first but she once caught a glimpse of her at a competition (that Mai is jealous of to this day) and somehow she looked smaller and less intimidating than the countless videos she’d seen. Maki still recalls how dejected her eyes looked, heavily contrasting the beam on her face as a medal was placed around her neck.

She never wanted Mai to have those eyes.

“Okay I’m done. Megumi texted. Toji bought way too much food again so he said feel free to come over. Let’s go!” Mai squealed in delight, she was tired and starving and the best place to recover was their cousins mansion.

Maki nodded, sending a quick text to their mother that they would probably spend the night and they set off, wind whipping their faces. Mai chatted away as Maki drove, mind elsewhere.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #figure skating!y/n #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk maki #jjk mai #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #shoko ieiri #maki zenin #mai zenin #tw

40 notes · View notes

mushrooms-empire · 3 years

Text

I feel like writing some little head cannons about Sander Sides. Rn it’s about some pets they’d most likely have.

Asks/requests are open but no set dates on completions or if I’ll even do em lol.

Patton/Morality:

• I feel like, despite all the talk about cats and dogs, of all other things. This guy would rather have a bird, maybe even a fish on the side lines? First bird he’d take would more than likely be a rescue, maybe a little finch that flown into Virgils window? (Giving the poor man a great scare)

• Patton, once calming Virgil and himself down, runs to the injured finch. Definitely the one to absolutely scream and cry while asking (pleading) Logan to help the little birdy.

• once Logan assessed said bird, proving there was only a broken wing and sore muscles. Patton has to start his pleads and begs to keep the little finch,

• “…Nurse her back to health!” Was the line that got the other sides to relent.

• Oh how they regretted that soon after.

•Burds are one noisemakers. Especially this little girl, nights are her preferred time to be singing and hopping around Pattons room.

•That was the one catch they others gave him, bird has to stay in his room.

•That was soon forgotten.

•The sides can’t exactly pinpoint when said catch was forgotten, they all found out at different times.

Roman found out when he collapsed onto the couch after a long day of helping Thomas remember his lines in a musical he promised to help with. All he wanted to do was rest, barely hanging onto the last thread of consciousness he hardly noticed the soft feathery touches.

Didn’t even bother with the slight weight on his body, bouncing along until reaching his chest where it stopped and settled.

Only when hearing the small trademark gasp of Patton seeing something he positively loved got him to crack open his eyes.

A tiny little finch with a makeshift popsicle stick splint on its wing. Settled down nuzzled into the fur of Romans jacket from the play.

As much as he was annoyed at Patton for bringing the bird outside of his room, he couldn’t deny with he thought. “Oh my lands! This little being is positively the most adorable being I’ve even laid eyes on! Despite myself of course-“

Logan knew Patton was going to break the request sooner rather than later.

He must admit though, Patton lasted longer than he first expected.

But still, he wasn’t at all surprised when he wondered into the living room early in the morning, expecting to be the only one up at this ungodly hour. Only to find Patton curled up on the couch in his favorite onesie, little dastardly finch nestled in the crook of Pattons neck. Sitting perfectly on his shoulder, occasionally pecking at the many golden strands of hair. (Patton stated he’d like to grow out his hair, no one took him seriously at first. That only made him want to do it more.)

The right brain side didn’t even mention the tweeting bird, choosing to make his much needed morning tea to even comprehend what’s going on.

Steaming cup of green tea, two sugar cubes just how he likes it, plopping down on the opposite corner of the sofa with book in hand. “Good morning Patton, Fringillidae.”

Patton was half way through his usual cheerful greeting before pausing, glancing at his land locked feather friend, then back to Logan. “…what did you call her?”

Logan, never glancing up from his book, responds with a small grin. “Fringillidae, it is the science name of the finch species. Take from that what you will, does not mean we are keeping it.” The last part scurries in there after seeing how fast the left brain side eyes light up. “Ooo Logie! That’s such a long name but I think the end would work for her! Dae…I like that!”

Virgil, already hated that little glorified feather duster for spinning him into an even deeper anxiety attack. (Flew into his window, remember folks?)

Then finding out the awaiting to be a new feather filled couch pillow likes to sing, at one and till seven in the morning? Oh oh oh your time is limited, Dae.

Just flat out didn’t come anywhere near Pattons new little play thing for at least two weeks. Two weeks after the others properly meet her.

When he eventually had yet another, admittedly very bad, anxiety attack one night. He completely forgotten his stubborn streak, the last thought in his worry filled mind was about the dastardly cunning finch.

Pattons door was always open for anything, at anytime, for anyone. Until now Virgil never openly came in, sure he confided in the fatherly side countless times before, everyone has. Though he never expected himself to be walking into the kindest sides room teetering on the edge of a full blown breakdown.

Patton, with his sleep schedule completely thrown out the window thanks to some little feather being. Was still up when his self proclaimed spooky son walked in, shaking legs barely managing to hold himself up with a hand over his mouth and a cold sweat drenching his blank tank top.

You better bet Patton was on his feet in an instant, leading the panicking, mumbling side to his bed. Knocking the countless stuff animals and pillows to the floor, laying Virgil down on the soft comforter, grabbing the black fuzzy body pillow he bought purely for this more and more common scene.

Managing to sit down and pull the creepy loving purplettes head into his lap just before the full effect of the attack came crushing down. Hugging the body pillow as close to him as physically possible, shakes and sobs racking his pale body..

Neither takes notice of the bouncing birdy slowly making her way to the two. Dae had a mission.

Said mission came to an abrupt halt as soon as she reached the bed. Even so, she was determined.

Patton, just cooing and threading his slim finger through Virgils soft hair. Noting he’d have to bother Thomas about more dye soon. Virgils sobs and shakes, twitches along with occasional hiccups broke Pattons too big of a heart.

Wrapped up in separate thoughts, they didn’t notice the tiny beats of wings, sound of a popsicles stick splint sliding across the floor and as faster than they could comprehend there is a little ball of feathers nuzzling Virgils neck. Settling down on the fluffy black pillow, resting her wing over Virgils cheek. Slow lying rubbing the soft feathers across the over heated skin, helping ground the anxiety ridden man back to earth.

Needless to say, after that night no one complained of early morning singing and the smell of bird seed in the kitchen.

That was my first go at any of these head cannonsc might do the others later. It’s 10:06 now and I have school tomorrow, started this at like, eight. So yeah, sleepy time. 🥱

#sander sides #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #birds of prey #birds #slight angst #rescue #creative

28 notes · View notes

ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

Text

Addicted To You

Part VI: Hold On Loosely

Summary/Author’s Note: ITS BEEN SO LONG. I MISSED FRANKIE SO MUCH. also. Holy shit, I love you guys. Part I -- has been my first fic to reach 500+ notes and that is just bananas to me and also wild that it was Frankie that did it. He deserves all of the love.

So, for those who have seen the movie know what is about to happen. But it might not be in the way you think. We get a little bit more Reader and Pope interaction and someone mentioned wondering about her relationship with Benny and I was like Oh perfect timing for this then...Enjoy. Gif credit to @pascalplease

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pope’s Sister!Reader Word Count: 4.1k Warnings/Rating: R/18+ Language, TOM (yeah he moved up), No one fucking listening to Frankie, Frustration, Intense situations, FUCKING murder, pining/longing, getting slightly turned on by Frankie piloting again--don’t lie we all do it, Frankie distress, blood/injuries

Part I * Part II * Part III * Part IV * Part V (bold means smut**)

[MASTERLIST]

“What’s my name?!” he yelled over the wind of the helicopter behind him.

“I-I don’t know,” She hugged her own body, clutching the duffel bag to her chest and looked at him with uncertainty. The wind blew her dark hair around her face and she made it a point to put herself between her younger brother and the man in front of her.

“Your buddy back there--” he swung his arm around and pointed. “What’s his name?” She shook her head and he raised an eyebrow. “I can just go ask him!”

“I said I don’t know!”

“Now,” he touched her arm and she had to fight not to shrug him off. He dipped his head and his tone was condescending. “When you two finally had sex--and you rolled over and said, ‘what’s your real name’--what’d he say?”

“That never happened!” She shrugged him off then and snarled at him. “He told me you served together...and that you were honest.”

“Why’d he say that?” Tom leaned back in mild surprise.

“Because I asked if he trusted you.”

“Why?”

“I was worried about you cheating him…”

The chopper had landed on the Peruvian border just like Pope had promised. They had dropped off the informant and her brother and although you couldn’t hear what was being said, you could tell by Tom’s dramatic body language and the disgust on her face that it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. Your brother handed her their cut of the money and touched her face tenderly as she held onto his arm and they said their goodbyes.

Tom stormed back onto the helicopter and sat down, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. You couldn’t help but think that he reminded you more and more of a child throwing a tantrum instead of a hardened military veteran leading a mission. It was as if he knew you were staring because he opened his eyes and looked at you. You averted your gaze quickly.

Pope cleared the threshold of the copter and took Benny’s seat as the younger man went up to take his shift with Frankie in the cockpit. Your brother put his headset on and opened his arm so you could lean against him and hug his side.

“You liked her, didn’t you?” you asked him, looking up with your head on his chest.

“I’m just glad she’s safe.” He said vaguely and you knew not to push the subject. He rubbed his hand up and down over your arm as if to warm you up and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“She’s lying,” Tom’s voice crackled through the coms on the headsets and both you and Pope looked at him.

“No, she’s not.” Pope said firmly and glared at the other man.

“You know what we should have done?” Tom let his thought remain unfinished and you felt your brother tense under your arms. Your stomach dropped as you realized what Tom meant. Before either of you could say anything, Will spoke up, always the voice of reason.

“That’s one you wouldn’t come back from, brother,” he said. He was leaning back against a few of the duffel bags with his arm propped up to keep his side un-strained.

The four of you were quiet for a long time, each mulling over Tom’s words in your own way as the chopper whirred around you rhythmically. The dark sky was crystal clear and you watched as the city below you slowly started to disappear and give way to the dark tops of the trees.

“You still doing okay?” Pope asked and you nodded.

“I’m exhausted,” you said, trying your best to stifle a yawn with his shirt. “But I’m worried if I sleep I’m going to wake back up in that mansion.” It was the first time you had admitted it out loud, but, however ridiculous, it was the truth. Every time you closed your eyes, it was as if you were back in that room, tied to that chair. The darkness that enveloped you wasn’t from sleep, it was the goddamn blindfold being put back over your eyes and it made your heart start racing as panic built in your chest.

“Hey,” Pope said, dipping his head to look at you. “You know I was going to find you no matter what, right?” He gave you another squeeze. “I wasn’t leaving this fucking jungle without my little sister.”

You released a heavy breath and laid your head back against your shoulder, smiling slightly and forcing your mind to remember that you really were safe. Before you could start to drift off, you opened your eyes and leaned back enough to look at him. “If I promise to try and sleep, will you go check on Frankie?”

Pope chuckled and rolled his eyes before succumbing to your request. “Yes. You rest and I will go check on Fish.” As he got up, he shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and tossed it over you before moving towards the cockpit.

"The weight drags when we get into higher altitudes so I want to keep it under 5,000 feet until we hit the Andes. We'll hit the ocean in four hours." Frankie's voice came through the com on your headset and you suddenly felt better. Tom's voice came through confirming that they had heard him and understood.

Four hours. Four hours and you would be headed home. After everything, it seemed like such a small amount of time and with Frankie at the helm, there was nothing to worry about.

When you woke up, it was because you were shivering. The main hull of the helicopter had dropped a considerable amount as it flew through the night and started to rise in altitude the closer it got to the Andes. Your brother was still gone but his jacket was pooled in your lap where it had slipped down off your chest. Both of the Miller brothers were sleeping peacefully and you were glad that Will had finally managed to get comfortable.

You sat up and slipped your headset back on so you could hear what they were saying. Standing up and stepping into the cockpit, the view out of the front of the aircraft was breathtaking. The mountains were huge, rocky crags that were covered in bright, white snow that reflected the sun off of its smooth surface.

"I'm gonna try and head for the two peaks I saw on the map. If we can aim for that valley it will be easier," Frankie said.

"Roger," Tom replied and both men looked up as you stepped over the threshold and put your hand on Frankie's shoulder.

"Hey, you," he said quietly, giving a small smile as you gave his arm a squeeze.

"It's beautiful," you said, clearing the sleep from your voice and nodding ahead of you. There was a clear divide between the lush, green trees on the mountains below and the drastic change in altitude that allowed for the snow to accumulate.

"It is," Frankie nodded, reaching forward and flipping up a small switch before putting both hands back on the joy stick. "You finally rest?"

"A little," you said. You pulled your headset down to rest on the base of your neck so you could lean forward and kiss his cheek gently. He kept his eyes ahead but the action made him smile, making the small lines at the edge of his eyes crinkle.

"Can you cut the domestic bullshit please?" Tom said, gruffly. "How steep do you think that is?" He pointed to the nearest peak and Frankie looked at him sternly.

"It's about 11,000 feet. We can't make that. I gotta find another way." Frankie shook his head and readjusted his grip on the controls.

"That's the quickest way to the ocean from here. You should go for it."

Both you and the man to your left looked at Tom in surprise and annoyance. Who was he to call the shots like this? This wasn't a matter of choice, this was a matter of if something was possible or not. You put your hand on Frankie's shoulder as the helicopter started to rise up the side of the mountain.

Frankie dipped his head to look up through the windshield, glancing down at all of the controls and watching as the lights started to flash in warning. You looked over your shoulder as Pope came up to stand behind you and watch what was happening.

"Alright, baby," Frankie said softly, talking to the aircraft. "Alright, baby, come on now."

He caressed the controls like he had caressed you. His fingers were familiar with them, what made them tick, and how best to move each dial and joystick. Frankie had always flown with a meticulous care that never failed to impress you--it was his favorite thing in the world. His heart lived in the sky and you loved that about him. A loud and rapid beeping drew you from your thoughts as the control panel started blinking red and orange.

"We're redlining man," Pope spoke up behind you as he pointed to the sensors.

"It's close though," Frankie grit his teeth and cursed under his breath. "It's too much weight. It's too much fucking weight. We're never going to make it."

"What does that mean?" Tom asked, sternly.

"It means we're losing fucking money."

"You wanna leave 50 million dollars in the middle of the jungle?"

"You wanna get to the ocean?" Frankie snapped finally, his voice not leaving any room for argument from Tom. The other man glared at him for a moment before looking over his shoulder to address Pope.

"Alright, go do it."

The idea that Tom controlled what he imagined to be the fate of the money, but in reality it was all of your lives, was complete insanity to you--especially because he seemed to be so flippant about the importance of the latter. You looked over your shoulder as your brother lowered the hatch on the back of the aircraft and a bitterly cold wind filled the cabin. The Miller brothers started shoving duffel bags filled with money out into a free fall down to the snow covered landscape of the Andes.

The immediate beeping of the control panel quieted down and Frankie gave an approving nod. “That's feeling better.” He dipped his head lower, leaning forward in his chair as if the movement would help the craft in its painfully slow ascend over the mountains. “Come on. Come on.”

You held your breath as Frankie crested you over the top of the mountain and, just like he promised, there was the ocean. The sun glittered off the water as it rose in the sky and you felt a sense of relief that was comparable to how you felt when Frankie had cut you loose from your bindings in the mansion. Both times he had brought you a sense of safety that made your heart stutter against your ribs. Then the beeping came back. The aircraft paused for a brief moment before it dropped into a free fall.

Your ass hit the metal floor hard and your stomach twisted into knots like you were on a roller coaster. Santiago’s arm wrapped around your waist and hauled you up against him as the copter shook and the metal screamed, alarms going off from multiple places on the dashboard.

“What the fuck are you doing Catfish!?” Will yelled as he gripped the handle above his head and put a hand over the bullet wound on his side.

Frankie’s voice came through the headset, calmer than he most likely felt. ”One of the gear boxes is blown--I don't want to go into a spin.” You all continued to fall in the air down the side of the mountain and his voice became strained as he gripped the joystick and tried to balance it out. “We might be in trouble here. I'm losing altitude--we should land. We should land now.”

“Crash land here we all die!” Tom yelled, looking at his pilot with wide eyes.

“I'm trying to get her back to flat--”

“Prepare for a hard landing!” Tom barked behind at the rest of you.

Frankie flew back down over the canopy of the jungle, the snow giving way to the lush green of the treetops as he tried to maneuver towards the village that you all had seen during your first initial climb. Benny leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as he gripped the handle closest to him. You could feel your brother’s heart hammering against your back, but on the outside he remained calm for the sake of the rest of his crew.

“I can't land this with the drop bag under us. We should lose the money and maybe we don't die.” Frankie turned and looked at Tom. The man glared at him but remained quiet. The fact that now, looking certain death in the eyes, Tom decided to shut his mouth, pissed you off. And apparently, it did Frankie as well because without Tom’s permission he looked over his shoulder and yelled over his mic on his headset. “LOSE THE MONEY OR WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!”

“Fuck this,” you mumbled as you pulled Santiago’s arm from around you and scrambled to your feet.

You had been on flights with Frankie enough times that you knew what the external load release looked like. It was the only fucking leaver on the wall, after all. You leaned over Benny and grabbed the red handle and yanked it down. The cargo doors in the floor opened slowly but the canvas net bag full of duffel bags stayed securely attached to the bottom of the helicopter.

“Frankie! It’s not working!” You called out to him and he glanced back at you again.

“There's a manual override on the cargo hook!” His voice was full of worry as he told you to stop. “Let Benny do it--fuck!”

He cursed, watching as you ignored him and leaned over the open door to find the manual override. The wind from the blades and the altitude whipped your hair against your face and you grabbed onto the rope, feeling for a trigger mechanism of some kind. You cursed as black smoke billowed from the top of the aircraft and obscured your vision. The giant metal release was on the other side of the net and was way out of your reach.

“Spot me!” You turned and yelled at Benny as he fell to his knees beside you and you ripped off your headset.

Benny nodded and helped you lower yourself through the hatch and onto the rope. He gripped your arm as you extended your leg and landed a firm kick with your booth onto the latch. When the bag fell, the helicopter gave a jolt as the weight shifted and Benny toppled through the hatch with you. You screamed as you heard Pope call your name and you looked up to see that the only thing that connected you to the copter was Benny’s grip.

“Benny!” Will lunged for his brother and grabbed him by the back of the shirt. The ground was coming closer and closer as Frankie tried to level out the craft and land it in the middle of the field.

“I can’t hold us both!” Benny yelled back at the blond. “We gotta jump!”

“No!” Pope reached through the hole in the floor but Benny was right. He didn’t give them any time to argue as he let go of the edge of the hatch and the both of you dropped the last twenty or so feet to the ground.

You hit the ground so hard it knocked the wind from your chest. Bits of dirt flew into your mouth as you gasped and covered your face with your arm. As the helicopter touched down, dirt and debris whipped around in the air and you squinted to try and see through it all. The blade on the tail caught the dirt and the whole craft jerked sideways as huge chunks of metal flew directly toward you and Benny.

“Get down!” He grabbed you and shoved you back down onto the ground covering you with his body as it continued to spin and jerk. The metal groaned, the blades squealed and all you could think of was if Frankie was still in control of it or if you were all just holding your breath and waiting for it to be over.

Black smoke and chunks of upturned earth continued to fly long after the craft came to a stop but the blades still slowly continued to turn. Benny moved his body off of yours and helped you stand as you both took off running towards the wreckage.

“Santi!” You screamed at the top of your lungs.

“Here!” Your brother called back as Will popped the door open and they both started to climb up out of the sideways craft. “We’re fine!”

“Fish!” Benny yelled as he got to the front and your heart stopped. Both Frankie and Tom were not moving as fast as Pope and Will. The glass of the windshield was shattered, but still hanging in the frame and Benny quickly raised his knee and kicked it free in giant sheets.

Tom crawled out onto the grass and coughed, fresh blood coming from an abrasion on his eyebrow. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Help Fish.”

As soon as Tom was out of the way, Benny got down and leaned in, grabbing the other man by the forearms and hauling him out onto the ground.

“Frankie,” you breathed, running the rest of the way to him. Benny moved to the side as you approached and you threw yours arms around him tightly.

Frankie squeezed you tightly, before leaning back to hold you at arm's length. He dipped his head to look you in the eyes as he gripped your upper arms and shook you slightly. “What you thinking--what the fuck were you thinking?!”

You watched as blood slowly dripped down a fresh, large gash on Frankie’s upper cheek, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. He couldn’t look away from you. His eyes were wild and his chest was heaving and even though his words were harsh, his tone didn’t hold any anger--it held fear. Your eyes burned and your chest felt tight, and the moment he saw it reflected on your face, his resolve crumbled and he pulled you back against his chest.

“You scared the shit out of me, baby,” He confessed as he pressed his lips to the top of your head and shut his eyes tightly. “Fuck.” He shook his head and looked up at the man standing behind you. “Thanks, Ben.”

Benny nodded as he helped Will jump from the door of the helicopter and Pope crawled out behind him, with his rifle clutched in his hand. He started tossing gear down to the ground and they passed around backpacks and guns. Frankie let you go reluctantly as Pope hopped down to the ground and handed him a new bulletproof vest.

“They’re gettin’ into the fucking net,” Tom cursed and the rest of you looked up to watch as people from the nearby village had flooded the site where the bag had dropped. Sure enough, they were using tools and machetes to rip through the thick ropes of the drop net and get into the duffel bags.

”What’s the plan here?” Pope said, propping his rifle on his arm and looking around.

“We’re getting that money back over the mountain and to the ocean,” Tom said, fastening his vest and grabbing his own weapon. “Benny, cover us from that treeline there.” He pointed to the right. “Fish, I want you at that vantage point over there.” He pointed to the left and then continued. “That’s cocaine they’re growing, so they could have guns already trained on us from those watchtowers over there.”

“We got working coms?” Will asked and Tom shook his head.

“No, we’ll use hand signals. Pope and I will get out there and look as peaceful as we can--we’ll signal when we think it's secure.” Tom looked to each of them to make sure they understood before nodding once. “Move out.”

As they all started to move in their assigned directions, Frankie moved his rifle to one hand, so he could take yours with his other. “You’re coming with me.”

You didn’t argue, not wanting to leave his side regardless. You desperately wanted to inspect the cut on his face, but you knew while he was tasked with watching the back of Pope and Tom, Frankie wouldn’t dare think about himself. You could ask, but he wouldn’t let you, so what was the point? He moved you both up the hill and squatted low into the tall grasses of the field, pressing his right eye to his scope for a minute to make sure he had a shot lined up if he needed it.

As you both watched the retreating forms of Tom and Pope walk towards the farmers, Frankie glanced at you. “Are you hurt?”

“Scratches mainly,” you shook your head and looked down at your palms and arms. “That’s it. You’re bleeding, though.” You nodded towards his face.

“I’m fine,” he said stubbornly, like you knew he would. “Don’t do anything like that again.” His voice was flat and you fought the urge to snap back at him. The adrenaline had been high for you both, the last thing you needed was to fight with the man you currently needed most.

“We both are going to do what it takes to get home--”

“You don’t have to prove to anyone that you’re a badass--”

“Don’t pull that macho bullshit with me--”

The two of you glared at one another and then his face broke into a small grin. He rolled his eyes and mumbled something about you being stubborn before looking back through his scope. You knew he was just worried. Was it reckless to do what you did on the drop net? Absolutely. But this entire trip had been nothing but the five of them risking their lives for you, and you were tired. Tired of being the reason that everyone you cared about in this fucking jungle was in constant danger. So, when Frankie told you to be smart, it was because he just wanted you home. He just wanted you safe.

You stayed quiet as you both watched the scene unfold in the field below. Both Tom and Pope were talking with their hands, gesturing, and speaking quickly. Hearing what was being said wasn’t necessary, their body language was more than enough, this talk wasn’t going in their favor.

“Pope, what's he reaching for? Is that a weapon?” Frankie spoke with his gun against his shoulder as he used the hand that wasn’t on the trigger to press the button on his radio.

No response.

“Pope, do you cop-”

“Frankie,” you touched his shoulder as you remembered the coms were dead from the crash.

Frankie leaned back and glanced at you before looking to his radio and cursing quietly. Pope had his arms out in a defensive position, speaking quickly over Tom who had his hand on his gun. This was bad. This was very bad. Frankie adjusted his grip on the rifle and his body went still. Tom pulled his gun and it was as if everything before you happened in slow motion.

The villagers yelled and Tom used his handgun to fire into the chest of the one nearest to him. Then again and again. Blood blossomed to life through their clothing and they dropped to the ground. The second one of them took another step forward, Frankie pulled the trigger, doing what he was trained to do--protect those on your squad.

His rifle echoed and ricocheted back on his shoulder and the man who had stepped towards Pope dropped just like the three before him. You watched as the other men gave the order for the villagers to get back and the screaming continued. Benny ran down the mountain and Frankie stood but you didn’t move. You were frozen in place as you saw Tom raise his gun at the unarmed man, now struggling to breathe, on the ground. You may not have liked him to begin with, but now you knew--Tom was going to get all of you killed.

Perm Tag List Part 1:

@rae-gar-targaryen @zeldasayer @winters-buck @gooddaykate @jigglemiwa @seawhisperer @halefirewarrior @ripleyafterdark @phoenixhalliwell @thebakerstboyskeeper @honestlystop @lackofhonor @readsalot73 @cryptkeepersoul @skdubbs @cahooter @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @googiebeankat @dinohaze @saltywintersoldat @huliabitch @silver-lined-solitude @tainted-gay-ghost @roxypeanut @hayley-the-comet @domino-oh-damn @maybege @corvueros @pettyprocrastination @qveenbvtch @hopplessdreamer @ @apples-of-february @pocket-of-anxiety @marie-is-in-the-dark @agentpike @pascalplease @cosmicbug379 @your-pixels-are-showing @gamingaquarius @blushingwueen @crimsonandwhiteprincess @bluemoon-glen @river-soul @robbinholland @nerdypinupcrystal @fleetwoodmactshirt @jaime1110 @fioccodineveautunnale @fantasticcopeaglepasta @kid-from-new-zealand

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #Frankie morales x you #Triple Frontier #pedro pascal #pedro character fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #addicted to you

695 notes · View notes

hp-nextgen-fest · 4 years

Text

2020 HP Next Gen Fest Reveals!

The time has finally come for the 2020 @hp-nextgen-fest reveals! Thank you so very much to everyone who has made this fest such an amazing success! We were incredibly impressed with the overwhelming enthusiasm you all have for our favorite Next Gen characters. Everyone who submitted stories and art, and those who read, reviewed and recced: You guys are amazing!! It's been really great seeing everybody's fantastic creations, and we hope you all enjoyed the fest as much as we did! Without further ado, here's a list of all the amazing participants who worked so hard to create fabulous things for this year's fest!

ART

@miakagrewup drew AcciDental Magic [Rose, Hugo, & Grandparents | General] Hermione and Ron are called away for a case and left without their usual child-minder when Molly falls ill. Hermione’s parents step up to keep Hugo and Rose, in spite of Hermione’s warning that the two little ones have some big issues with accidental magic. The story is told comic book style, with illustrations and voice bubbles.

@eleonorapoe drew Woke up married! [James Sirius/Teddy | General] They get well and truly bladdered at Albus's stag do and wake up in bed together with matching wedding bands...

@mad1492 drew Sunday Practice [James Sirius/Teddy | General] Teddy thought that morning practice on Sunday was going to be something he would soon regret, but things may turn more interesting than expected.

@julcheninred drew Introduction [Albus, Severus, & Albus Severus | General] Albus Severus Potter gets to know the men he's named for by asking them about the experiences, memories, and motives that shaped their lives.

@garmrr drew Eyecandy [James Sirius/Teddy | General] After months of extensive Auror training, Teddy comes with the Potters to the beach. James. Cannot. Stop. Staring. At. Teddy. Shirtless.

FIC

@cassiaratheslytherpuff wrote We Keep Loving Anyway [Albus Severus/Scorpius | Explicit | 7.1k] After Albus finds out Scorpius is part vampire he can’t stop thinking about being bitten. He can’t stop thinking about Scorpius in general, but that’s been the case since he was fifteen. At least, when it comes to Scorpius he’s used to not getting what he wants. He’s happy with what he has, or at least, comfortable. That is until he accidentally asks for it, then it all starts to change.

@polly-darton wrote The perks of Veritaserum [James Sirius/Teddy | Explicit | 5.1k] James drank a long-lasting version of Veritaserum and is miserable and Teddy is having the time of his life. That is, until they’re both having the time of their lives.

@gracerene09 wrote Thunderstruck [Charlie/Teddy | Explicit | 2.6k] There’s not a lot for dragon tamers to do when stuck inside during a storm, but looking at this particular new recruit―well, Charlie can’t help but think of a few ways they could pass the time.

Quentin_threepwood wrote Hair Today, Hair Tomorrow [Albus Severus/Scorpius | Mature | 1.7k] Away on a book tour Albus Severus Malfoy grows a very creepy mustache, much to the horror of his still at home husband Scorpius Malfoy.

vitruvian8008 wrote Mission in Nairn [Draco/Lily Luna | Explicit | 7k] Lily Luna Potter is paired with Draco Malfoy for her first Auror Mission. On their last night, she decides to act on the lingering tension that had been building up between them.

@nerdherderette wrote No Other Alpha But You [Albus Severus/James Sirius | Explicit | 7.1k] Scorpius Malfoy has applied to be Albus' heat partner. There's no way James is letting that happen.

@aneiria-writes wrote The Scorpion King [Albus Severus/Scorpius | Explicit | 3.8k] Scorpius Malfoy, AKA the Scorpion King, has ruled Britain ever since his father turned his sights to conquering Europe. With his right-hand man and most trusted advisor, Albus Potter, Scorpius has a life of elegance and power. But he's had enough of the beautiful women that usually grace his bed. Scorpius has decided he wants something else in bed. Something more. Scorpius Malfoy wants Albus Potter.

@motherofmercury wrote Islands of the Upper Air [Lily Luna/Luna | General | 1.5k] Lily Luna has never liked her namesake, or her strange and sometimes absurd way of looking at the world. But a weekend full of ancient rituals and mountain forests is an eye opener, in more ways than one.

@shipperysails-bookofspells wrote Expecto Patronum!! [James Sirius/Teddy | Mature | 45.7k] James Potter had always known exactly what he wanted; to open a pub of his own, maybe travel the world, and live a simple life with the only man he’d ever loved. For years he waited, quietly determined to help Teddy see what could be between them. But just when everything he’d ever dreamed of was finally within his reach, it was ripped away in an instant. With Teddy missing, and presumed dead, James is left to pick up the pieces. John has no idea what he wants. He doesn’t even know who he is. But when he hears a strikingly familiar voice – on an otherwise ordinary day – he sets out to discover everything he can about the man that occupies his dreams. And Harry, well, Harry just wants to put his failures behind him. Until a series of unexpected events forces him to reexamine a case that he’d given up on solving. With the help of an unexpected ally, he just might find the answers he’s been looking for.

@lovealpenglow wrote lily's potter [Lily Luna/Lysander & Lily Luna/Draco | Mature | 8.3k] "But what if I keep it? What’s the contingency plan there?” She took a seat next to Lily. She spoke slowly, as if she was thinking about it for the first time, too. “Well, I mean, you keep your baby. You raise it. You love it. It goes on to do wonderful things because it’s a Potter.” Lily snorted. “It’s a Potter?” “Why not? I mean it’s just as much you as whoever is the father. Why shouldn’t it be a Potter first?”

@micheleblack wrote Snaked a Claim [Albus Severus/Scorpius | Teen | 1.6k] Everyone knew Albus was gay from age five when he would dramatically swoon every time Goncalo Flores the Quidditch player was mentioned. Twenty years later and Harry still tells the tale - much to Al’s embarrassment.

@ladderofyears wrote And I Fell Heavy (Into Your Arms) [James Sirius/Teddy | Explicit | 9.1k] When James Sirius Potter travels to America for three weeks, the turquoise-haired Healer Teddy Lupin misses his boyfriend very much indeed. Luckily, Teddy has (sexy) floo calls, charmed obsidian pendants and hastily made chastity promises to keep him busy. Based on the following prompt: Absence makes the heart grow fonder... Right? Smutty phone!sex? Longing letters? All up to you!

@veelawings wrote Dirty Duelling [Albus Severus/Draco | Explicit | 6.1k] Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want (Or — fucked up Dirty Dancing with wand fights)

@eleonorapoe wrote Albus’ Private Lesson of Sex Education [Albus Severus/James Sirius/Teddy | Explicit | 4.5k] Albus has some doubts about sex. Luckily he has an older brother, who can initiate him. How does this lesson go? James will be the teacher, Albus his good and obedient student and Teddy will be more than happy to serve them as a learning tool. In which a delicious Teddy sandwich is served.

@faeheyjesper wrote Four Reasons [James Sirius/Teddy | General | 8.1k] There were a couple of things James should've considered more seriously before coming back to work at Hogwarts as the new Flying Instructor. His dad being the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor there, for one. The fact that he hadn't really flown since a career-ending injury had put an abrupt end to his Quidditch fame two years ago, for another. His ridiculous, teenage crush on Teddy Lupin, his friend and Hogwarts' newest Charms professor, perhaps most of all.

@26timesbrighter wrote An Interlude [Lavender/Victoire | Explicit | 4.9k] Victoire is supposed to be chasing a serial killer, not shagging her uncle’s dead ex-girlfriend.

@drarryruinedme7 wrote Mint & Apples [Harry/Teddy | Explicit | 4.3k] Teddy Lupin's not-quite-wolf has chosen Harry Potter as his mate, that's all. He hasn't got a crush on his best friend's father, really. He also definitely isn't obsessed with Harry Potter's scent.

crazyparakiss wrote This is Love [Albus Severus/Scorpius | Explicit | 24.8k] Most of Albus’s bad life decisions can be summed up in a word: James. When he got a shitty tattoo in the Fifth Year—done by some bloke in a dirty flat—well, that was James’s idea. When he got picked up by Aurors for doing hallucinogens—James was the one who’d convinced him to do them at a party. That time they stole the flying motorbike Dad gave to Teddy—James was the one who insisted it was a rite of passage to drive it over London at dawn. Neither Dad nor Teddy was impressed with that explanation. Now, here Albus is living another bad choice that was born of James’s influence.

@gaeilgerua wrote The Balance Between Studying and Relaxing [Rose/Teddy | Explicit | 3.7k] Rose has been studying non-stop for her upcoming barrister exam. With Hermione attending Hugo’s Quidditch trials for moral support and Ron away on business, there’s only one person available to keep an eye on her. And Teddy is only too happy to take the role.

@r00wscribbles wrote The last ones to know [Albus Severus/Scorpius | General | 5.2k] Albus and Scorpius have a very close relationship. Everyone can see it. Perhaps they are the last ones to know jus how close they are.

@ohdrarry wrote You've Got A Second Chance (You Could Go Home) [James Sirius/Teddy | Teen | 16k] “What about James?” James, dear Merlin, not James, not again. His boy, his son, the brightest star in the constellation of Harry’s patchwork family, not him. “I think he’s relapsed.” – They tried this when James was nineteen and Teddy was twenty five. It crashed and burned. Teddy ran away to Finland and James... well Teddy's about to find out what happened to James, now that he's back two years later.

@maraudersaffair wrote Falling for You [James Sirius/Scorpius | General | 1.2k] Scorpius didn't care about Quidditch until he saw James Sirius on a broom.

@diligent-thunder wrote Heart-Shaped Ottoman [Draco/Teddy | Explicit | 6.3k] Draco has had interns before, but none so bothersome as Teddy Lupin.

@whenshereads wrote Living With Our Eyes Half Open [James Sirius & Scorpius | Teen | 5.5k] James didn’t mean to get his brother-in-law kidnapped alongside him that morning, but that is definitely what happened.

@shiftylinguini and @gracerene09 wrote Faim [Albus Severus/Scorpius | Explicit | 9.6k] "So, this is the city of love!" Scorpius declared, adjusting the straps on his backpack. Albus wrinkled his nose. "City of pigeons, more like," he corrected, stepping around another fat, grey bird Or: Scorbus go to France.

@articcat621 wrote Unexpected [Lily Luna/Pansy | Explicit | 1.2k] Draco and Harry's engagement party brings about an unexpected, but not unwelcome, event.

@fidgetyweirdo wrote Remember to Forget [Albus Severus/James Sirius | Mature| 17.5k] The moment they kissed, James and Albus knew that they'd never be able to live without this -- too in love to walk away. Years later, and well into adulthood, the possible repercussions of their relationship feel very real and very scary. Without the strength to break it off, they're left with a single solution: a company that specializes in erasing and altering memories. Now the only thing left to do, is to say goodbye.

#scorbus #jeddy #jalbus #pottercest #jorpius #scames #dralbus #HP Next Generation #hp next gen #harry potter next gen #hpnextgenfest #hp femslash #hp cross gen #masterlist #reveals #2020 fest #mod post

87 notes · View notes

toorusbaby · 3 years

Text

second choice, pt. 3

summary: being in love with hajime iwaizumi is like riding a rollercoaster of emotions. it’s thrilling as it is exciting, but you feel a little lightheaded... because he doesn’t know how you feel. the worst part? he thinks you’re in love with his best friend.

warnings: just pure fluff, oikawa cockblocks, slow burn, slight angst if you squint real hard

word count: 2,406

part four here

“Behold,” you walked ahead of Iwaizumi before turning to face the boy, excitedly throwing your hands in the air in a cheesy manner. “The Osaki Food Festival!” You stood beneath the festival’s welcome banner, the aroma of the different kinds of food making your stomach growl in anticipation. The sound was relatively quiet, but Hajime had taken notice and chuckled when you placed a hand over your stomach with a nervous chuckle.

“You know, I really hope you didn’t eat breakfast yet, Y/N.”

“What? Why?”

Your eyebrow raised in confusion but Iwaizumi swiftly pulled out his wallet and flashed a toothy grin at you that made your heart do somersaults.

“Because you and I are eating everything this place has to offer. Or that we can afford, at least.”

What a dork, you thought. You smirked and pulled out your own wallet, bumping it against Iwaizumi’s. “Only if we get takoyaki first.”

༺♥༻

It was safe to say that the food festival was crowded despite the chilly weather. Hours felt like minutes to you and Iwaizumi, especially since the boy was keen on keeping his promise of trying all of the different foods with you. Before you knew it, it was already five o’clock in the early evening. In the midst of trying foods, both tasty and savory, time had flown by in a flash. You and Iwaizumi were having the time of your lives stuffing your faces while enjoying good conversation.

You were feeling bright and cheerful, the evident result of having a satisfied stomach. It was also notable to mention that strolling around with Iwaizumi, your crush, for hours was a contributing factor to the permanent smile on your face. Initially, you were worried that your nerves would ruin the day and drive the wing spiker away from you. However, you were proven wrong almost immediately when you realized that laughter and smiles came naturally from the both of you.

Unbeknownst to you, Iwaizumi felt the same way. Seeing you reveal a side to him that you didn’t often display excited the ace. He couldn’t ask for more, especially since it was just the two of you.

You glanced up at Iwaizumi, who was now eagerly nibbling on his karaage in between words, his nose a bit red from the cold. His other hand was busy holding a small bag filled with different desserts that he bought for his mother back home.

‘If I bring something back for her, she won’t complain about me being gone all day,’ Iwaizumi had slyly smirked at you when he made the purchase earlier that afternoon. You found the action extremely endearing; it was obvious from the way you smiled up at the spiker who didn’t fail to notice. For a second, Iwaizumi thought your gaze was a look of adoration, but he figured he was delusional for thinking so. In his mind, there was simply no way that you’d ever think of him romantically.

Currently, the two of you were strolling past the very last of the festival’s aisles. You were chewing on your last piece of dango, snickering as you listened to the green eyed boy complain about Kindaichi’s choice of body spray.

“I mean, I get wanting to smell good after practice. But who even uses Axe anymore? It smells like ass and the last time I checked, he isn’t a student at Kitagawa anymore,” Iwaizumi chuckled and finished the last of his karaage.

Before you could defend Kindaichi’s honor (as best as you could, really; who uses Axe?), a small ice cream vendor at the very corner had caught your eye, halting your footsteps. Despite your cold cheeks, nearly numb fingers, and the icy breeze, the idea of strawberry ice cream was enticing.

Iwaizumi on the other hand, proceeded to walk without noticing you pause, continuing with his story.

“Kyotani nearly strangled Kindaichi to death for overspraying a few weeks ago. Honestly, I don’t think Oikawa could’ve convinced me to stop him though— Y/N?”

The ace paused and turned back to face you, but your eyes were focused on the vendor instead. Quickly connecting the dots, Iwaizumi exhaled and grinned, placing a hand behind his neck to stare at you.

“Y/N, it’s freezing... ice cream in this weather?”

“Well, it’s not exactly snowing, Haji...”

“But I don’t want you getting sick, dummy. When it’s warmer, we can get some.”

“But... fine.” Placing emphasis on your ‘fine’, you pouted and trudged over to the spiky haired boy who was waiting up ahead for you. Truthfully, you were just exaggerating. You were fine without the ice cream; you didn’t want Iwaizumi to worry about you getting sick. Even though the thought of him worrying about your health made you feel giddy inside, you forced yourself to remember that it was a moral thing for someone to fuss over.

“You sound just like a little kid.”

“Shut up, Iwa-chan.”

The sight of your pouty rosy lips and flushed cheeks as you continued to walk beside him was burned into Iwaizumi’s memory. He watched as you used your sleeves as sweater paws to warm your bare hands, in awe when your usual grin returned to your face when you gazed at the colorful lanterns and streamers on other vendors. The image was burned into his memory and would probably remain there for the rest of his life, seeing as Iwaizumi’s cheeks burned brightly at how adorable you were acting.

She’s not even trying, he pursed his lips and exhaled through his nose. Even though you were now smiling, Iwaizumi felt uneasy and guilty being the reason why you were pouting in the first place.

“Iwa,” Without thinking, you gently tugged the material of his sweater to grab his attention, the action startling the boy. “There’s actually another place I want to visit if that’s okay. It’s a short walk, not too far from here. Think we can go?”

Iwaizumi quickly glanced at the spot your fingers had touched before clearing his throat. “Yeah, of course. I’m down.” he nodded. The sight of the ice cream vendor that was now behind you caught Iwaizumi’s eye. He knew what he had to do next. Even though he was afraid you’d catch a cold, making you smile was the volleyball player’s top priority.

It’s like spoiling a child, he bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from chuckling.

“Y/N, we should probably use the restroom before we head out. I’ll meet you back here?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea. See you in a bit then.”

As soon as Iwaizumi saw you make your way to the women’s restroom, he made a beeline to the ice cream vendor that had customers, much to his surprise. The green eyed boy knew your favorite flavor was strawberry, making sure to order a vanilla cone for himself as well. He knew you’d feel guilty about eating ice cream he bought for you all alone. Plus, Iwaizumi figured he could self-indulge just for today, even more than he had already. He wasn’t the type to ever say no to festival food.

When you finished your business, you made your way back to the spot Iwaizumi had told you to meet him, only to find it empty.

There’s probably a line or something, you figured.

Your assumption was shot down the moment your eyes landed on the tall figure walking towards you. It was as if you were experiencing tunnel vision, the way the handsome boy stood out among the busy crowd. In both hands, a grinning Hajime Iwaizumi was holding a vanilla cone along with a strawberry one you knew was just for you; the large size of the treats made your eyes sparkle. His bag of desserts for his mother dangled on his forearm and you swore that it was the cutest thing you had ever witnessed.

“Haji, are you for real? You didn’t have to!” A bright smile crept its way onto your face and you made your way to meet him halfway.

The boy shrugged his shoulders and gave a teasing smirk. “Damn, that sucks. I guess I’ll just give this to someone else then.” Iwaizumi chuckled when you rolled your eyes at his sarcasm. “You’re so annoying… but thank you, dummy.” You grinned. Your fingers barely brushed against one another when he handed you your large cone but it was enough to make your heart race.

Before either of you could have a taste, you gently bumped your strawberry ice cream against Iwaizumi’s vanilla cone, a “boop” leaving your lips. Iwaizumi blinked in confusion and quickly glanced at the part of his cone that had strawberry mixed with the vanilla. He looked at you. “What was that for?” he questioned before licking the combined area.

Despite the increasingly cold weather, you felt as if your veins caught fire.

“They kissed, silly,” you responded, choosing to avoid eye contact.

I cannot believe I just said that. What the fuck.

With flushed cheeks, you tasted your ice cream to calm your nerves. “Come on, I’ll lead the way to the next spot. I think you’ll like it.”

Your previous words rendered Iwaizumi speechless. They kissed? Our ice cream cones kissed? Iwaizumi could feel his ears burning up; he was certain that his face was beet red at your simple words. Being too deep in his thoughts, the volleyball player didn’t notice you walk ahead of him, exiting the festival. It wasn’t like the spiker to get so flustered over something like two ice cream cones ‘kissing’, but Iwaizumi couldn’t help the blush that crept up his neck and to the rest of his face.

Note to self: get ice cream for Y/N again next time.

The boy smiled to himself but your voice calling out to him to hurry up broke him out of his trance.

༺♥༻

“Iwa, you have to bend your knees!” You laughed, your arm trembling from being held midair too long. You and Iwaizumi found yourselves snickering beside a fountain at the park you ended up taking him to, the two of you attempting to stop your laughter in order to smile for a selfie to send to Oikawa. It was your idea, of course. It was Iwaizumi who couldn’t say no to you.

With half finished ice cream cones in both of your hands, the ace chuckled at the sight of the two of you on your phone screen. It had taken a minute for you guys to find a proper angle, one where you could snap a picture that didn’t cut Iwaizumi’s head off due to his taller height. However, the spiky haired boy stood behind you to your left, flashing a toothy grin as he held up his half-eaten ice cream cone.

Due to his bending, you could feel Iwaizumi’s body warmth radiating onto you, his head hovering above yours. You definitely weren’t going to complain. Melting ice cream cones in both hands, you smiled brightly before taking the picture, sending the photo alone to Oikawa.

“And... sent!” you exclaimed, putting your phone into your purse. “Oikawa is gonna be so jealous,” you grinned. Iwaizumi glanced at you while licking his dripping cone and handed you a napkin in the process.

“Oh… Do you want him to be jealous?” The ace questioned. It was hard to keep the bitterness out of his tone, but Iwaizumi managed to succeed.

Your eyes widened in realization at your own words and you shook your head. “No, not at all. It’s not like that. I just meant of us getting ice cream without him, of course,” you awkwardly chuckled after your explanation. You could see Iwaizumi’s shoulders relax and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Nice job, Y/N, you’re an idiot, you grumbled inside your head. If you could slap yourself, you most definitely would.

Thankfully, Iwaizumi didn’t seem to notice your nervousness. However, he seemed to be in his own thoughts.

The park you had taken Iwaizumi to was more of an area for biking, jogging, or walking, perfect for picnics. It was fairly large, small hills scattered throughout the grassy area. Although the nearly vacant park was beautiful, your favorite area was a bit further in the center. As the two of you continued to follow the paved pathway, with you leading him, Iwaizumi was the first to break the comfortable silence after finishing the last of his cone.

“Speaking of Oikawa,” he started, gaze fixated on the ground. “Why didn’t you invite him instead?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you stared up at the boy beside you. A small pang of embarrassment flared through your chest. You took a second to think about the spiker’s question. Did Iwaizumi not want to go with you in the first place? You could’ve swore he was having a good time... or at least you thought so. Taking one last bite of your cone, you opened your mouth to reply.

However, you never got the chance to since a flustered Iwaizumi immediately intervened. “Oh shit, I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, I worded that weirdly,” he panicked, his hand gently clasping your shoulder to have you face him. “I’m actually really glad you invited only me today, so please don’t misunderstand,” Iwaizumi’s footsteps came to a halt, his eyes trailing to your shoulder where his hand rested.

“Sorry about that.” He mumbled, instantly moving his hand off of you. Iwaizumi absolutely feared the idea of ever insulting you; he’d never forgive himself if he upset you. It probably didn’t help that he placed a hand on you without permission, but you didn’t mind at all.

Waves of relief washed over you once you heard Iwaizumi’s short explanation. Thank god. With a reassuring smile, you waved your hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Oh, that’s okay Iwa. Don’t worry about it, I get what you mean.” Rubbing your bare hands together to create heat, the two of you continued to walk with you leading the way. “And seriously, you don’t have to apologize for touching me. I won’t break or anything, I promise.” You smiled at him.

Iwaizumi’s question however, still lingered in your mind. It was an innocent question and there was no harm in answering truthfully. You figured this was a good opportunity to drop subtle hints about your feelings towards the ace before confessing entirely, whenever you felt the time was right.

“But to answer your question,” Iwaizumi’s eyes flashed to meet yours. You kept your eyes on the path ahead of you and brought your clasped hands to your lips to blow heat into them.

“I really just wanted to spend time with you.”

#haikyuu #haikyu x reader #iwaizumi #haijime iwaizumi #iwaizumi x y/n #aoba johsai #seijoh #friends to lovers #slow burn

56 notes · View notes

will-noble-owns-my-ass · 3 years

Text

Hold Back the River

This is a story based off of this fantastic piece by @goodboybadrep-ooc, who also wrote the letter from Ethan to Amelia which is featured in this piece. Thank you for letting me use Siobhan, I hope you enjoy ❤️

Rash sighed and closed his eyes trying to focus himself, feeling the plane start to descend. Where was he going? He was flying to Ireland to join his girlfriend, she’d flown over a week ago to visit her friend Siobhan. As he walked through the arrivals lounge of Dublin airport, looking for Siobhan, who Will had called to pick him up, he wracked his brain trying to decide how to tell Amy the devastating news. How was he supposed to tell her she was now an only child? He had no idea.

Siobhan waved him over and he offered her a weak smile “Hey Siobhan, where’s Amy?”

“Hey Rash, she’s at my place. She doesn’t know your here because she was asleep when Will called and I didn’t want to wake her. Not yet. I figured if Will called as late as he did then something must be wrong.” She looked at him and her face dropped. “No.. Poor Will.. Poor Amy” she ran a hand over her face “Poor Aoife”

Rash sighed “I know... he.. he wrote her a letter.. Will thought it might be best if I tell her in person... god this is going to break her.” He said quietly as they reached the car, they got in and he leaned against the seat “Siobhan?”

She glanced at him aa she started driving, tears in her eyes “Yes Rash?” She asked softly “Her world is about to collapse around her.. all over again.. how do I tell her?” His voice broke. Siobhan bit her lip ad she drove. “Be there for her Rash, she’s going to need us.. Did you say he wrote her a letter?” Rash nodded “She’s always got me.. Always” he sighed “Yeah he wrote a letter for the whole ED, he probably wrote one for Aoife for when she gets older too. He wrote one for Amy. Will said he thought it would help her.”

Siobhan offered him another weak smile “He was right. It’ll be hard but a letter will help her..” He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as they reached Siobhan’s house “Can we sit out here a little longer? I’m not ready to break her heart yet.” Siobhan nodded and looked at him “I get it but you’re going to have to tell her Rash it isn’t fair on her.”

He nodded and took a deep breath spotting Amelia leaning against the door frame. They got out of the car and made their way toward the house. Amelia grinned as she saw him “Rash! I thought you were working what are you doing here?” Rash looked at her and put on a bright smile “Dylan gave me a few days so I thought I’d come and join you.” He pulled her into a tight hug “It’s good to see you.” She said quietly as she pulled away “How’s Ethan?”

Rash looked at at her as Siobhan led them both into the living room, pushing Amelia down onto the sofa gently. Rash put his bag down and joined her quickly, taking her hands in his. “Rash.. What are you doing? You’re scaring me.” Rash looked at her and squeezed her hand “Amy... I... I’m so sorry.” Amelia laughed emotionlessly “There’s no need to be sorry Rash, everything’s fine, everyone is fine.” She let out a broken sob “He has to be okay.. because if he’s not that means I’m alone in the world, and I can’t handle that Rash I can’t.” She said through wracking sobs, her shoulders shaking as Rash pulled her into him, his heart breaking for her “shhh your not alone Lia.. we’re here.. we’re right here” she bit her lip and sucked in s difficult breath “Oh.. Oh God.. Aoife..”

Rash looked at her and rested his chin on her shoulder “Aoife is okay.. she’s got Will and Robyn... she is asking for Aunt Lia though” he told her softly “I should have been there.” Siobhan cur in then “Amy stop, he wanted you to come over here remember? He had Will buy you your ticket.” She let out a wet laugh “I didn’t even get to say goodbye Siobhan. Again. First Cal died and now Ethan and I didn’t get to say goodbye to either of them!” She yelled “Sorry, I didn’t mean...” Siobhan pulled her into a hug “shh, it’s alright I understand, it’ll be okay, Rash and I are right here.”

Rash shot her s sympathetic look and pulled open his bag going straight to the pocket where he’d placed Ethan’s last letter to his sister. “Amy?” He caught her attention “From Ethan.” She sucked in a breath taking it from him with shaking hands. She closed her eyes “Uh... Siobhan.. Can you read it for me?.. I.. I can’t.” Siobhan took it from her gently “Of course I will Amy” Amelia rested her head on Rash’s shoulder as she opened the letter.

Dearest Amelia

Promise me that when you read this, you’ll have Rash and Siobhan by your side to support you as by the time you read this I will likely be no more.

I know I’m dying but I’m going with dignity and in place I want to be apart from the fact you aren’t with me.. It’s strange. It feels like letting go. Breathing is getting harder but I feel lighter? Like it is time. Aspiration pneumonia is a bitch! Oh I swore! Oops!

As I sit here watching the waves lap against the beach I cannot help but reminisce. We shared such wonderful memories here. Day trips with Mum which ended in us all getting ice-cream (even though I hated it!). I’ll never forget your graduation night; you dragged me down here and we drank, danced, and sang under the stars. You’ve always been my star. My moral compass and it kills me to know that those days are coming to an end.

The hardest part of this is loosing you.

You know me, I’m not religious but the things I do firmly believe in are kindness, compassion and that our spirit and the splits of those we love never truly leave us. They remain in everything we do, think of and love.

When we first found out about the HD my only thought was you. I didn’t want to be a burden. I didn’t want you put your life on hold because of me and I don’t want you to do so when I succumb either. When I could no longer run, you held me up. When I couldn’t walk, you held my hand. When we lost Caleb.. We held each other. I sure won’t be lonely if I rejoin him in heaven.. That day when I trialed working in the chair you turned to me and said I’m still your Dr Who and you gave out stink to a patient who questioned my ability because of it. You inspired me to keep fighting, keep trying everything I could to keep going but now… I want you to have the strength to keep going without me.

There’s no easy way to convey all the things I want to say to you but please believe me when I say that I’ll never leave you. I’ll always be with you. I think the best way to sum it up would be to quote Mary Elizabeth Frye. “Do not stand at my grave and weep,I am not there, I do not sleep.I am in a thousand winds that blow, I am the softly falling snow. I am the gentle showers of rain, I am the fields of ripening grain.I am in the morning hush, I am in the graceful rush. Of beautiful birds in circling flight, I am the starshine of the night. I am in the flowers that bloom, I am in a quiet room. I am in the birds that sing, I am in each lovely thing. Do not stand at my grave bereft. I am not there. I have not left.” And my old pal Shakespeare: “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.”

Love Ethan xx.

Ps. If Rash doesn’t marry you I will haunt his ass!

As Siobhan refolded the letter, Amelia let out a wet sort of laugh as Rash turned red “In the future.” He said quietly she chuckled resting her head on his shoulder “I’ll be there.” She looked toward the sky closing her hand around the necklace her brother’s had bought her when they were younger “and so will they.”

#casulty oneshot #casualty story #ethan hardy #will noble #own character #rash masum x oc #rash masum

6 notes · View notes

slippinmickeys · 4 years

Text

I got a prompt not long ago from @monikafilefan here on Tumblr. It was: "how about Mulder and Scully accidentally end up as roommates when their old ones back out? An instant friendship blooms into something so much more. I can just feel the palpable sexual tension already" From there, it... got legs.

I’ll be posting one chapter a day for six days. Don your blue sunglasses and enjoy some trope.

Dana Scully was running late. Flustered and out of breath from running the few blocks from the Metro stop, she pushed through the doors of the coffee shop, startling a young mom who was pushing a stroller out the door.

“Sorry,” she said, apologizing, and then held the door open while the woman slowly navigated the stroller through the narrow doorway. When she was out, Dana finally stepped in and scanned the store, looking for familiar auburn curls.

Her sister Melissa held up a hand and stood as Dana approached.

“Missy!” Dana said, relieved to see her.

Melissa gave her a long, tight hug before reclaiming her seat. Melissa’s hugs were the kind you always wanted to get. Like she’d cultivated them in a field, each one grown in a tidy row, just for you.

“Everything all right?” Melissa said, as Dana, huffing and out of breath, shrugged off her jacket and swung her purse over the back of a chair.

“No,” she said, laughing at herself and Melissa’s eyebrows came together in sympathy, “but tell me about you first. How was your flight? God, it’s been so long!” She reached across and squeezed her older sister’s hand.

Melissa had flown back to the States only the day before, having spent the last two years living in England.

“I’m great!” Missy said, “living abroad has been incredible. I almost hated to come back.”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” Dana said.

In truth, she was glad. She’d missed her sister terribly, but Missy had needed a big change. She’d dropped out of college several years before, much to their parent’s horror, and Melissa had been too spirited to live long under their father’s roof. Her sister looked wonderful. Clearly the time abroad had been good to her.

“But, what’s happening with you? What’s going on?” Melissa said.

Dana blew a raspberry.

“I’m in a tight spot,” she finally said, “We just found out this morning that Ellen got the internship in Seattle for the summer. It’s the one she wanted, and I’m really excited for her, but it’s not paid, so she won’t be able to cover her half of the rent -- she leaves in two days and rent for next month is due in five. We’ve got three more months on the lease. I’ve got to find someone to sublease her room, like yesterday.” She felt panic bubbling up in her gut. “I don’t suppose you have any interest in staying in DC for the summer?” she asked Melissa hopefully.

“Oh, I wish I could,” Missy said, “but I’m registered for massage therapy classes at the National Holistic Institute in Baltimore for the summer. Mom and Dad have calmed down and I’m going to stay with them while I get certified.”

“Missy, that’s wonderful!” She tried to smile at her, but she knew it didn’t reach her eyes. Dana was excited for her sister, but had been holding out a hope that maybe Missy coming back Stateside would be an answer to her prayers.

“What about Ethan?” Melissa asked, lowering her voice unconsciously, “Couldn’t he move in with you for the summer? It’s only three months, Mom and Dad don’t need to know.”

Dana bit her lip.

“We broke up,” she said. Melissa’s eyes widened.

“June and Ward Cleaver broke up?” Melissa said, in shock. “When? I thought….”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. Dana knew what Melissa thought. What everyone had thought. She and Ethan, together since their sophomore year of high school and enrolled in the same post-grad program at Georgetown, were the all-American couple. They, and everyone else, had assumed they would be engaged after they got their PhDs, and married not long after.

“Last month,” Dana said, looking down at her hands.

Melissa reached across the table and put her hand on Dana’s arm.

“What happened?”

“We grew up,” Dana said simply, “we’re different people, now. At least, I am. I’ve been thinking about making some changes at school and Ethan… was not supportive.”

Melissa squeezed her arm.

“What kind of changes?” she asked.

Dana looked up at her sister, “I’ve been seriously considering med school for some time.”

“But you’re so close to your degree!” Missy said.

“That’s what Ethan said,” said Dana, “but he was just so… dismissive. Like he had this plan for me. Like what I wanted didn’t matter. It was bad, Missy.”

“God,” Missy said.

“Yeah,” Dana went on, “he found out I took the MCAT and lost it. I broke up with him then and there. I haven’t seen him since. Not even on campus.”

Melissa gave her a shrewd look.

“Can I say something that you may not want to hear?”

Dana nodded morosely.

“I’m so glad,” Dana shot her sister a look, surprised. Melissa went on, “I never liked him, Dana. I know Mom and Dad loved him, but he’s had a stick up his ass since high school and he always thought he was better than everyone else. I used to sneak out and sprinkle catnip under his bedroom window in the summers.”

Dana’s jaw dropped.

“He used to complain all the time about-”

“-Tom cats in the neighborhood gathering outside his house and howling all night? Yeah, that was me.”

“Missy!”

“He deserved it,” Melissa said, sitting up with an air of moral superiority, “I’m glad you broke it off with him.”

“To be honest, I am too,” Dana said, “but I’m in a real lurch with this roommate situation. I don’t want to take out another student loan and I don’t think I can ask Dad for more money. Especially when he finds out I’m abandoning the program.”

“So you’re quitting for sure?” Melissa asked.

Dana nodded. “I just got the MCAT results and I did really well,” she couldn’t hold in a smile, “I told my advisor last week. I’m finishing out the summer. I’m going to start applying to med schools.”

“Well,” Missy said, “I’m glad you’re following your heart. And I wouldn’t worry much about Dad. He’ll be thrilled to have a doctor in the family. But maybe not so thrilled about bankrolling a degree you don’t intend to finish.”

Dana squirmed in her chair.

Melissa leaned back, thinking.

“What about…” she stopped, assessing Dana for a moment. “I have this friend. Someone I met in England last year. Moving to DC to be closer to family.”

Dana sat up straight.

“Do you know if she needs housing? Oh my God, Missy, you’d be saving my life.”

“The thing is,” Missy said, “it’s not a she.”

Dana made a face.

“He’s a great guy, Dane,” Melissa went on, “PhD in Psychology from Oxford. I met him when he was dating my friend Emma. His parents passed away recently and he’s putting his sister through school. She was a freshman at American this year. I can call him if you want.”

“I don’t know…” Dana said.

“Dana Scully, you are a 25 year old woman and it’s almost 1990 for God’s sake. Surely you’re not so old fashioned that you wouldn’t consider a male roommate. Particularly one that I can personally vouch for.”

“I don’t suppose he’s… gay?”

“You heard me mention my friend Emma, right?” Missy said, “No, he’s most certainly not gay, and no one is going to care that he isn’t. This isn’t Three’s Company, Chrissy. You need a roommate, and he--last I heard--needs a place to live. It’s perfect.”

It was only three months. Surely in this day and age having a male roommate wouldn’t give her some kind of reputation. And she was desperate--she would at least meet the guy. She leaned back in her seat.

“He isn’t cute, is he?” Dana asked.

Melissa narrowed her eyes.

“Cute?”

“Attractive. Hot. Someone with pleasing facial symmetry who other people like to look at.”

“Like you?” Melissa said. Dana gave her an exaggerated eye roll, and her sister asked, “Why?”

“Because it’s the last thing I need right now,” Dana said.

Melissa took a demure sip of coffee.

“No,” she said, not making eye contact, “he’s not cute.”

Dana considered her sister a long minute.

“Okay,” she finally said, “call him.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

At precisely 3:00pm, there was a knock on her door. Shave and a haircut.

He was punctual -- more than she could say for herself that day -- and that usually boded well.

Instead of sticking around to introduce them, Missy had said she had other friends she was supposed to see while she was in town and had taken off after setting up this meeting, though she promised Dana she would still come over for dinner.

Dana opened the door. He was tall. At least a foot taller than she was, and he stood in the doorway with a smile on his face. He was wearing a black leather biker jacket, jeans and black boots and was carrying a motorcycle helmet under one arm. Dana was momentarily taken aback by his good looks. She would kill Melissa.

“Dana?” he said, expectantly, reaching out for a handshake, “I’m Melissa’s friend. Fox Mulder.”

“I thought you’d be British,” she said, the words fumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

He smiled.

Dana shook herself, embarrassed, and extended a hand.

“Dana Scully,” she said, “sorry. Come in?”

“I met your brother when he came out to visit Melissa,” he said as he shook her hand, “one more Scully and I win a set of steak knives.”

“You’re in luck,” she said, smiling, “we Scullys come in sets of four.”

He laughed and wiped his feet on the welcome mat before stepping past her and into the apartment. He stood a few feet in and looked around.

“Wow,” he said, “this is a really nice place.”

Dana nodded and closed the door. It was a nice place. Much nicer than two broke grad students had any business living in. It had cathedral ceilings, hardwood floors and a large, spacious living room framed on one side with immense sliding glass doors that opened to a long balcony that ran the length of the room. On the other end of the living room sat a modern kitchen with a large island countertop that sat three people on the living room side, and had a 4 burner cooktop on the other. The appliances were pretty new. There was a hallway leading from the other end of the living room that led to one bathroom and a bedroom (Ellen’s), with a small in-unit washer/dryer at the end of the hall. Stairs led up from the left of the doorway to the master bedroom (Dana’s) and en-suite bathroom that had a separate tub and shower. The place was filled with hand-me-down furniture from various parents and siblings, but was decorated well and was quite comfortable.

“Rent controlled,” she said, by way of explanation, “my roommate’s brother had lived here for years. We got really lucky.” He nodded, still taking in the space. “You want a tour?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said, smiling.

She showed him the living room and the trick to opening the sliding glass door, then ran him through the kitchen and on down the hallway to Ellen’s room, which was a disaster area filled with half-packed boxes.

“This would be your room,” she said, “I promise to clean it before you move in.”

“Nah,” he said, peeking his head in the closet, “I’d be happy to do it. When would move-in be?”

“You could be in in two days,” she answered, “Ellen flies to Seattle tomorrow night, though you wouldn’t know it to look at her room.”

He smiled.

“I don’t know if Melissa told you about my situation,” he said, “everything has been happening kind of quickly. You’d really be saving my bacon, here.”

“She told me a little,” Dana said, “I’m really sorry about your parents, Fox.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. He cleared his throat. “Though, I uh, prefer to go by Mulder.”

“Fair enough,” Dana said. “Though there’s no way you ever got Melissa to call you anything other than Fox. I bet she was delighted.”

He laughed, a melodious, warm sound. Upon hearing it, she decided she liked him.

“And then some,” he said. “So what do I need to know?”

“Well, it would be a sublease for three months, until Ellen gets back. I may or may not be moving out in the fall, and our lease goes month-to-month after that.” He nodded. “Otherwise,” she said, “I mainly do a lot of studying. I have office hours and classes three days a week. I’m not big on house parties, and I like things quiet.” She looked at him, and he didn’t seem thrown by anything she’d said so far. “Do you…” she was sure how to put it, “have a girlfriend or anyone who would be coming over a lot?”

He smiled.

“No girlfriend at present,” he said, “though my sister is at AU and she may come over every now and then if she’ll deign to visit her stuffy older brother.”

His eyes crinkled with affection when he talked about his sister, and Dana found herself involuntarily charmed.

“And what do you do for a living?” she asked.

He winced.

“I’m currently looking for work,” he held his hand up when she raised her eyebrows, “I have enough in savings to more than cover three months of rent,” he said, “so you don’t have to worry about that. But I only got into town a few days ago. I’m still trying to figure everything out.”

“Melissa vouches for you,” she said, “that’s good enough for me.”

He fiddled with the helmet, which he was still carrying, and took a long, slow turn, looking around the apartment, as if making a decision. He finally turned back to her.

“Well, Scully Number Three?” he said, holding out his hand once again. “You’ve got a new roommate if you’ll have me.”

“No need to remind me of my place in the pecking order,” she said, “if you’re Mulder, I think just Scully will suffice.” Scully. She let it roll down her spine and liked the way it felt. She reached out and gripped his hand firmly. It was warm, dry, and completely enveloped hers. “Welcome home, Mulder,” she said.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Melissa breezed past her in the doorway without a word, arms laden with plastic bags.

“I brought take-out!” she said over her shoulder, kicking off her shoes and making her way to the kitchen to unburden herself of the bags. “Is Fox still here?” she asked, looking around, a little out of breath.

“He left about an hour ago,” Dana said, coming to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. “Melissa,” she went on, and Missy wouldn’t look at her. “You said he wasn’t cute.”

Melissa opened the fridge and helped herself to a beer.

“He’s not cute,” Missy said, finally turning to her, “he’s gorgeous. You’re welcome.” She twisted off the top and then shoved herself up to sit on the counter, taking a long pull.

“Make yourself at home,” Dana said sarcastically.

“Thanks,” Missy said, brushing her off. “How’d it go?”

“You’re right, he was really nice. He’s going to take it,” Dana said, and then decided she could go for a beer as well. She opened up the fridge as Missy punched the air in a yes! gesture.

“What did I tell you?” Melissa said, “kismet.”

“Yeah,” Dana said, tamping down her own enthusiasm, “I hope it works out.”

“It’s going to be great!” Missy said, “He really is the best guy.”

“Did you guys ever…?” Dana asked, wondering if she really wanted to know.

“Me and Fox? No,” she answered, “not that I wouldn’t have liked to,” she went on, “but I think the whole ‘thou shalt not date your best friend’s ex’ rule is pretty universal. Even across the pond.”

Dana was surprised to find herself relieved.

“I am privy to some information, though,” Missy said, arching an eyebrow.

“Do I even want to know?” Dana asked.

Missy ran her tongue along the corner of her mouth.

“He’s very well endowed,” she finally said with a grin.

Dana felt herself blushing and took a deep swig of beer to cover for it.

“Unless it’ll help him pay the rent,” she said, swallowing, “I don’t see how that’s any of my business.”

Melissa shrugged, looking coy. “I’ve also heard he loves to eat out,” she said.

“What does that have to do with-“ Dana finally looked at her sister, caught her eyebrows in the air, suggestively. “... Jesus, Missy.”

Melissa smiled, took a sip of beer.

“I’m just saying,” Melissa said, “a generous lover is a generous man.” Dana looked to the sky as if for help. Her sister was clearly enjoying Dana’s discomfort. She finally jumped down off the counter and turned her attention to the bags of food. “You could do a lot worse than Fox Mulder.”

“I’m not going to do Fox Mulder, Missy,” she said, and Missy let out a bark of laughter. “I need a roommate, not a boyfriend. And anyway, I’m going to be in med school soon. I won’t have that kind of time.”

“Make time,” Melissa winked, and then dug around in the bags, pulling out carton after carton of Chinese food. “You hungry?”

Dana set down her beer and hugged her from behind.

“I’m famished, you snot,” she said into her sister’s hair.

#the x-files #fanfiction #fanfic #MSR #AU #my fic #a companion unobtrustive #chapter one #prompt

270 notes · View notes

last-on-your-lips · 3 years

Text

Dragon’s Draught

When you ask the right questions of the wrong people, they’ll often give you answers. A yes to something they should say no about, a no when you have a wise doubt about what they instruct and influence.... and a comforting smile when you’re suffering the worst of their suggestions.

Talin had learned this later than some, an almost accomplished mage student of Sinthir Tower. A childhood not worth much talk, she had proven she had a handle on magic early and been whisked away from home by a Magus in need of Apprenticeship. Pondering long and hard she wouldn’t tell you of her heritage or how she was discovered, or why a Lady would’ve done for a Magus’ apprentice. You make yourself, she’ll remind you, by the choices that get you to who you become. There are wiser choices than interrogating people that can handle magic, too. Especially when they chose to switch over to the school of alchemy.

“Not like ye to make threats, Lass.” The brawny keep at the border bar commented to the former apprentice, she was not the kind of rambunctious beauty he was used to seeing. He knew better than to press a mage though, and further better than to test an alchemist with a bad attitude. “I was just wanted to know why i’was ye wore a hood inside, wasn’ trying to make trouble of a question. More like thems rogues and ugly to hide in them own shadow.”

“I suppose you’re dying to know if I’m ugly.” The bitterness was present, but her voice was infuriatingly sweet with the snarl. She could tell it wasn’t quelling his curiosity and for once she was unhappy that her usual half-past noon drink was taken in an empty exile bar. “I’m not.”

“I don’t expect ye to be, ye’re slender and ye move with the grace of any graduate Mage. Never met an ugly Mage before. Few weird ones, them’s that were the type took a Dragon’s Drink for a reason or another.” His face was intently pointed away from her as he worked a cleaning rag into a mug. He even pretended her sharp gasp went unnoticed by giving an experienced shrug and turning his back. “Weird doesn’t mean bad. There’s good reasons and bad reasons both to drink the stuff.”

“What do you know of good and bad reasons for a Draught...” Muttered into her drink, hood still pointedly covering all but her lips. Plump they were. he thought. Flush with drink and aggravation. But they were very carefully all she showed of herself. Hid under that hood, clearly enchanted to stay shading her from head to toe. Seemed silly to drink something as drastic as a Draught and then hide, to him.

“Ye can’t hide the smell of it, no matter how careful ye are with the cloaks. I know the Wolf Drink, i’was what they had me on.” Admission given to her muttering, and a grin over his burly shoulder at how she let out a recognizable whimper. Wolf men were reputably dangerous among folks. Damn shame in his opinion, he never even meant to drink a wolf and make a monster of himself. His laugh bellowed at how she hurried to drink her ale, bemused that she prioritized it over trying to run away. Odd Lady Talin always had seemed to him though. “Most lass’ll sprint right through the door when they realize. Now I know you took a drink you weren’t suppose to.”

“Drink I shouldn’t have been given, it wasn’t what I wanted from what I had asked for. Didn’t know enough to know better.” She was defensive now, desperately twirling him back into her circle of non-acknowledgement. He’d already gathered she’d been taken into Sinthir a young and dewy lad. Prettier than most Magus apprentices were expected, pretty even before the graduation. Pretty enough she fell prey to the Traedurin alchemists no doubt, promised they had the answer to help her change what she didn’t love about herself.

“I’ll agree with ye. Traedurin mages and alchemists are twisted in the head, they think they understand things better enough to make choices wrong for people that don’t know better.” He nodded patiently, thoughtfully. Appreciating that she hadn’t flown loose of the bar. She couldn’t have been much older than him, looking at her and listening to the tremble of her voice still denying that what they’d done and influenced was still what had happened to her. Irreversible as if it had been her own informed choice, there was no unmaking the changes a Draught put the body through. The lucky folk got subtle things, as he had. Brawn he’d never had before, teeth too sharp, nose too keen, eyes lighter than gold. It was hard for folks to tell whether he was strong enough to lug the kegs or if he was strong because he did. He had the inkling she hadn’t been so lucky and got such subtle hints of her changing.

“They make stupid choices with smart people is what they do.” Grumbled from under the hood, thing still stubbornly positioned to conceal her. Still an agreeable word there. They fell into a silence past that statement, she soaking in the bar keep as he busied himself organizing mugs and bottles. Noticing where he wasn’t quite human anymore under the billow of his tunic before she finally decided to speak again. “It was when they told me I’d have to be a Magus to graduate. Sinthir wouldn’t allow me to ascend as a Mage. It was too late to transfer over to the alchemists at Erfersi that year, so I left my apprenticeship and went to the capital to work for the public. Was trading blessings and wards to farmers. An almost graduate is as good to them as a proper Mage, and their food was fresher than I got in the tower anyway.”

“A public magic user is a Traedurin Alchemist’s wet dream, lass.” Sympathetic in his tone, the entire country of Traeduros produced a population that was widely received as mental when not outright putting effort into being violent or manipulative. They were usually responsible for crafting the morally unsound and otherwhere illegal substances known as Beast Drinks and Draughts, transformative elixirs that could augment a human with the power or appearance of animals, though they rarely gave a human both the power and the appearance and often enough they could go horribly wrong and disfigure more than augment. Trick potions mostly, sound minded people wouldn’t drink them.

“Isn’t it? So I was. Unhappy and easy prey for their ‘magic’. Their ‘solution’.” There was a hiss under her voice, a certain raspy flair as she sprung off the bar seat and onto her feet... feet he now noticed as what some would call disfigured. She stood balanced on specially crafted shoes, but he could see that three inhumanly shaped toes were bound in the rough shape of a human foot and strapped carefully to a wedge. A flex of those toes broke her free of the meticulous binding to reveal that the flesh of her feet was stain blue, and she put a hand to hip under her cloak before she pulled back the hood and unveiled herself, ale helped defiance in her gaze. It was to his merit that the less obvious Draught Beast didn’t laugh.

Talin stood defiantly poised on those draconic feet, loose pantaloons not managing to conceal how her bones were twisted to accomplish the strength and dexterity expected of an upright drake. Her waist was bare up to the chest, a vest fitted neatly and decorated in what he felt were comically small pockets, though only because she herself was petite. Petite, flat framed, and lean with muscle all the way through her arms and down to her clawed digits. The barkeep was unduly fascinated that her augments were so symmetrical and functional, almost distracted enough by them to ignore her face until she snapped her fingers and leaned forward toward him. Downright impish in the face! She had vibrant silver markings against the blue tint of her skin, cheeks cut high into her expression and a jaw drawn sharp and low. Slender to add to how small she already seemed, but adorned with perhaps the most intense stare he’d ever tried to meet. Her irises were the palest tint of green almost glowing through the ink black of her eyes, and her pupils were feline slits within them. This under her arched brow and paired with her still human nose under a mane of half-kempt iridescent hair gave her the look of a particularly spunky demon in his opinion.

“Yers wasn’t as subtle as mine.” Managed and uttered from him, his lips curled in an approving grin to look at her without her cloak. “Certainly aren’t ugly either, ye were right about that. Never seen the Drink change colors like you have.”

“Supposedly had to do with me being able to use magic.” A flair of the stuff, just a glimmer of it moving through her skin as more markings similar to those on her face. “It leaves a permanent mark on the body, any Mage will admit. But the Draught brought mine out.”

“I think it’s good it did, Lass. Ye shouldn’t have to live under the cloak for it either.” Advised as she was clearly weighing the options of putting the thing back on and assessing how horribly she’d damaged her shoes. “Might be that how ye look now is how ye find out who ye’re going to be.”

It was twelve days past taking her cloak off that she decided not to put it back on.

It was a month after that she enrolled with the Alchemist’s guild, a celebrated student of Erfersi graduating after only a year of study.

It was a week after that when Rhaekson spotted her, an obvious draconic body, and gave her responsibility of a newborn in a quiet plea in front of the same border bar.

The same barkeep helped her find a path and a hollow tree to raise the child away from humans when it’s blood mother decided to forfeit several towns.

#Faern & Talin: Dynamic Duo #just Talin #flashback and worldbuilding #Windscorn #Windscorn pt 3/?

1 note · View note

abuttoncalledsmalls · 4 years

Text

Take A Giant Step - Chapter 3

Warnings: Alcohol, Angst, Fluff, and Language

Word Count: 2.7K

Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!OC

A/N: Here is Chapter 3! If you would like to be tagged in upcoming chapters, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Shout out to the AMAZINGLY LOVELY @yespolkadotkitty for beta-ing this. Please enjoy. <3

The skies had opened when I walked into the theater on Tuesday morning. It was normal for our area to get thunderstorms around this time of year, but not of that magnitude. A small ball of worry began to form in the pit of my stomach. What if the weather was too severe and Frankie wasn’t able to make it? Between my mild panic and the sound of the pounding rain, I missed hearing the front door open.

“Good morning, Maggie.” Frankie was standing at the entrance holding a faded red toolbox. As always, he was wearing his baseball cap. His ripped blue jeans and beat up beige shirt hinted that his project would involve him getting messy. As he gently smiled, his coffee colored eyes sparkled.

“Good morning, Frankie. Thanks for braving the weather and coming in.”

“No problem. Were you able to move the desk into your shop?”

I led him backstage and through the back hallway to our scenic shop. It wasn’t a very large space, but we were still able to build and store all of our sets in there. I flipped the light switch on to reveal the area. The remnants of the desk were in a sad heap on the floor, waiting for him. He walked over to the pile, knelt to the floor, and examined the task before him.

“Feel free to use anything we have in here, if you need it. Our tools are on the ancient side, but they get the job done. Can I get you a bottle of water?”

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

I turned and headed to our lobby bar. As I opened the fridge, I grabbed two bottles of water. When I returned to the shop, Frankie was separating the broken pieces of wood.

“I brought you two bottles. Just in case you needed an extra one. Sometimes it can get a little warm in here. I left the bar fridge unlocked out there for you. If you need more water or even a soda, you can just grab one.”

I paused slightly.

“Is there anything that I can help with at the moment?”

Frankie looked up. As he surveyed the room, he mentioned that he was good for the time being. I smiled, trying to hide my slight disappointment. Before I left him to his work, I let him know that I would be in my office down the hall if he needed me. He thanked me and went straight to work.

As I headed to my desk, I chastised myself. Why was I letting my hormones hijack my brain? Yes, he was very cute but that was it. We didn’t really know each other that well. Even if we did that still wouldn’t mean that he could be interested. This always happened. As soon as a man said or did something even remotely nice for me, I’d start seeing fireworks. Then my heart would inevitably break into a million little pieces when it was discovered that he didn’t feel the same way. No matter how many times the cycle would repeat itself or I recognized the same patterns, it played out the same way. It was like my brain couldn’t comprehend that a man showing me respect was not the same as him indicating affection. They were just being decent human beings.

To distract myself from myself, I began working on several projects. I went into my Gmail account to find an endless stream of emails from hopeful actors requesting audition slots for our summer theatre festival. With each confirmation notice I sent out, the more and more Frankie’s presence slipped from my mind. I became consumed with scheduling auditions, contacting designers, and texting Jeff about upcoming meetings. When I looked up at the clock on the wall, three hours had already flown by. It was a little after 1:00 PM.

I rose out of my chair and stretched. While heading to the scenic shop, I heard the bar fridge open. Frankie must have been thirsty. I changed my direction and headed to the bar. He was facing the front door, with his back to me and no idea that I had joined him. I was able to see that he was drinking a Coca Cola.

“So you’re a Coke fan?”

He jumped and then turned on his heels to face me. I thought I had really surprised him because his face went white and his eyes widened. He almost choked on his soft drink.

“It’s okay. I’m more of a Dr. Pepper girl myself.” He exhaled and what tension his body held left.

“So, it’s one o’clock and I do believe that I promised you lunch. Are you hungry? What are you in the mood for?”

“You know, I’ve haven’t had a really good BLT in a long time…”

“Perfect! There is this great sandwich shop three blocks over. I”ll call and have them deliver. Do you want something else to go with your BLT? Chips? A brownie? Their brownies are made from scratch every day and are to die for.”

“Sure - I’ll get a brownie. Thanks, Maggie.”

He shot me a grin. I pulled out my phone and placed our order. It would be about twenty minutes before the food would arrive.

“The desk is mostly done. I just need to reattach the legs and secure the top. Do you wanna check it out?”

I nodded and followed him into the shop. Sure enough, our sad little desk was mostly assembled. I was taken aback at the progress he made in three short hours. Turning to him, I asked how he was able to do all of that in such a little amount of time. He bashfully looked down at the floor while his prominent cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.

“It’s nothing special. The damage looked worse than it really was. It just took some glue, screws, and a little patience.”

The building’s doorbell rang out loud. The food had finally arrived! We both walked to the entrance of the theater to meet the delivery driver. After taking the food, I fished my wallet out of my back pocket to give the driver a tip. Frankie raced to pull out his wallet.

“Let me take care of the tip.”

“No way. I said that I’m paying and that is precisely what is going to happen.”

“You said lunch was your treat. That doesn’t cover the tip.”

“Dude. No. I am paying and that’s that. Put your wallet away.”

Frankie sighed, but relented. He put his wallet back into his pants. I turned to face the poor confused driver. She thanked me as I handed her a ten dollar bill and then promptly left.

“Let’s eat on stage at the table. I’ll grab us each a beer. Just don’t tell Jeff if you see him. This’ll be our little secret.” I held my finger up to my lips. Frankie made a zipping motion over his. Grinning, I handed him the bag of food to set up. I flounced over to the fridge and grabbed a Budwiser, an Angry Orchard, and a bottle opener. I opened our drinks at the bar. When I returned to the stage, he was pulling up a second chair to the table. I hopped up onto the stage. We both sat down and began to eat our lunch.

“This is great,” he said with his mouth partially full.

“I told you. Sandwich Society is one of the best places to eat in the city. At least that’s how I feel.”

“This is as good as the BLTs I grew up with in Colorado.”

“You’re from Colorado?”

Frankie nodded his head as he swallowed a bit of sandwich.

“Yeah. Boulder. I lived with my grandparents there until I was 14. Then I moved in with my best friend’s family. Once Pope and I graduated high school, we joined the army and then left. That’s my best friend. His name really isn’t Pope, it’s Santiago. Pope is just a codename.”

“Do you have one?”

“A codename? Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“It’s not that important. The only people who refer to me by it are my army buddies and it’s really ridiculous -”

“Is it like Pinkie Pie or something along those lines?” He looked down at the table and softly chuckled. As he looked up, he blepped his tongue. I would have been a liar if I said that I didn’t find that adorable.

“No - it’s not Twilight Sparkle either. Uh, it’s Catfish.”

“Why Catfish?”

“Cause of the whiskers on my face. I know, it’s dumb.”

I didn’t think it was dumb. It was pretty clever - almost bordering on the line of cute. All I could do was grin like an idiot. To change the subject, I brought out my phone and opened Spotify.

“How about some tunes? The sound of the rain hitting the roof is driving me nuts. What kind of music are you into?”

“I’m more into classic rock. Sometimes old country, but mostly classic rock.”

“I can dig that.” I pulled up my classic rock playlist and tapped the large green play button on the screen. Kansas began playing the intro to “Carry On Wayward Son”. I returned to my veggie burger.

“You listen to classic rock,” Frankie asked, arching one of his eyebrows.

“Of course, I do. It’s great music and what I was raised on. Fleetwood Mac was practically a religion in my house. Why wouldn’t I listen to it?”

“I didn’t think that someone in their mid-twenties would know this stuff.”

I laughed. “Mid-twenties? I hate to break it to you, but I’m thirty-one.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s okay, Frankie. I’ve always looked younger than I really am. I can’t count how many times in high school alone I had friends’ parents who thought I was a younger sister in elementary school. Especially since I had a penchant for wearing oversized hoodies. I’m pretty used to it by this point.”

As I gave him a reassuring look to know that I was not offended in any way, the next song on the playlist began to play. Just hearing that first guitar chord of “Go All the Way” by Raspberries caused a wave of dopamine to wash over me.

“I fucking love this song. When the tape player in my car worked, I would play it constantly. I’m almost convinced that the stereo died on purpose so it wouldn’t have to play this song again. But it’s such a good song - it hits all of my buttons. What I would give to have that stereo system work again. Just to listen to my music with the windows down and the wind playing with my hair on a warm summer night.”

“I’m not really a mechanic, but I do have experience with technical systems like that. If you’re comfortable, I don’t mind trying to see if I can fix your stereo.”

“Oh, Frankie. That’s so sweet of you, but you are already doing me a solid by fixing this desk. I can’t ask you to tackle that as well. It’s not fair. Anyway, I couldn’t even begin to afford a repair that big -” Frankie gently held his hand up to stop me where I was.

“I’m offering because I want to do this. I’m not asking or expecting anything in return. I only want to help a new friend. Especially since it seems like you really miss your music.” He looked at me with big brown puppy dog eyes.

“Okay. Just remember that Carly is an old lady. She’s set in her ways.”

“You named your car CARLY?”

“It seemed punny.” He rolled his eyes and suggested that he return to work. I nodded in agreement and volunteered to clean up while he finished. As “Don’t Fear the Reaper” began to play, he headed into the shop and I began to tidy up. I was utterly charmed by this man. This man who appeared out of thin air and dropped into my life. He was so sweet, generous, soft, and - No. He was just being friendly. His being friendly did not mean that he was interested in me like that. I needed to reign in my sense and feelings immediately. Leaving them to run wild would only result in me getting hurt.

“You should be fine for the show this weekend,” said Frankie as he reentered the space. “Just keep the clamps on until Friday morning. The glue should be dry by then. I can come by during the day and do it for you, if you want.”

“Thank you so much. You don’t have to do that. Unless you think it’s best that you remove the clamps yourself.”

“It’s not trouble. I’ll swing by on Friday. If something looks out of the ordinary over the next couple of days just call or text. I’m always just a text away.”

****

Over the next few days, Frankie and I were constantly texting each other. We were almost as bad as teenagers. One of us would send a hilarious meme and the other would have a smartass remark. We’d ask each other how their day was going and if they heard the latest stupid headline. It felt good to be able to check in on someone and to have them check in on me. Every time that my phone’s text alarm went off, I smiled to myself like I had a sweet secret. I knew that Frankie was just being polite with these conversations, but it made me feel so special.

Frankie sent me a message on Friday asking if he could come by then to take the clamps off of the desk and to look at Carly’s stereo. Within the hour, he was there inspecting his work. He said that everything looked good and he removed the clamps. The desk ended up looking like nothing had happened to it. As I looked at the repaired furniture with a sense of dumbstruck awe, he asked for my car keys. I handed them to him without even looking. When I snapped out of it and turned to thank him, he had already moved on to the car.

For the next few hours, I kept myself busy with administrative work and preparing for that evening’s show. As I was finalizing the evening’s will call list, I heard a quiet knock on my office door.

“Yes,” I said. My head was down, still going over seat assignments.

“Hey, Maggie. I’ve got something I think you should see. Could I pull you away for a few minutes?”

I looked up to see Frankie at my doorway. His brow was covered in beads of sweat that kept his curls matted down. He was clearly hot, but it didn’t detract fromthe enthusiasm in his face. I stood up and followed him outside. We walked over to Carly and he opened the driver’s side door for me. Thanking him, I slid onto the red cloth seat.

“Turn the ignition and press the power on the radio.” His face radiated excitement. I did what he asked me. All of the sudden the sweet sound of guitars and asking to go all the way filled the car. I was shocked.

“I do have to ask this - are you some sort of warlock or part of the occult?” He laughed and adjusted his cap, bashful.

“No. I just had to replace the fuse and reconnect some things.”

I turned to face him. “Frankie, this is incredible. You are so insanely talented with your hands. I know several people who need things done or fixed. They would be willing to pay good money for that. Would it be okay with you if I passed along your number so they could contact you?”

He looked taken aback at my suggestion. I automatically felt embarrassed. Had I overstepped my boundaries? He was a pilot. Maybe he didn’t want to do handyman work. Did I offend him? He began to speak again.

“Yes, please. Thank you so much. I’d really like that.”

“Fantastic! My sister has some things that need to be repaired. I will go ahead and text her right now.”

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

TAGS: @absurdthirst @larakasser @yespolkadotkitty @fioccodineveautunnale @wickedfrsgrl

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfic #frankie x oc #catfish x oc #francisco catfish morales #catfish morales #francisco morales #abuttoncalledsmalls #takeagiantstep

32 notes · View notes