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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

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Would you look at this, complete self-indulgent fanfic of my own writing

-Blue Masterlist

-Orfeu/Haru Masterlist

CW: Dehumanization; Mouth Whump mention; conditioning; Pet whump; Biting; restrains, collar; self-hatred; it as pronoun;

“Please, please don’t’ Blue sobbed rocking back and forth on the car sit “Master….B-blue loves you”

But Master had already decided. He clipped the chain on Blue’s collar, ruffled his hair one last time and offered it a smile.

“I’m sorry Blue. But a deal is a deal. You have to go with Orfeu now”

The place he was driven to was isolated, in the middle of a forest with tall gloomy trees. The man waiting for them stood as still as the trees, with gloomy green eyes.

Master parked the car and opened the door. Blue didn’t want to go. Blue loved Master. Against better judgment, it jumped to the other sit, so Master couldn’t get it.

“Blue, none of this now. You don’t want to make a scene in front of your new Master do you?”

Blue didn’t want a new Master! Warren loved Blue so why was it being given away? It felt tears falling through its cheek, as it tried to hide on the corner under the sit, hugging Bonnie nervously.

Master was having none of that, and on a quick movement, grabbed the chain and pulled it, not caring if Blue would choke. Blue tried to stay inside, but Master was much stronger and it was dragged out, falling like a doll on the floor.

“…My apologies for that” Master Warren says, dragging Blue to the man.

“NO” It screams, and jumps on Master’s leg, grabbing it with all its strength “Master don’t leave it, no, Blue wants to be with Master please, only Master”

“He is your Master now Blue” Master tried to kick it away, but it kept holding, until it was grabbed the hair and yanked back.

Master lifted Blue off the ground, and for a second, Blue relaxed on his grip, head resting on his shoulder. But Master threw Blue at the other man. It didn’t want to be held by other people! Only Master! And worse… Master was walking away! No no no!

It tried to kick away, but the other man had no problem holding him. It… It didn’t want to be left behind! It loved Master, it was so so so so lucky it had a kind Master, what had it done to be thrown out again?

…It sobbed, hysterically. Not caring for behaving anymore, it sunk its teeth on the man’s arm. That hurt like hell. It saw white points in its vision, almost passing out from the pain, but it didn’t care, and did it again. The man cursed under his breath but didn’t let go.

“No, no, no, please…” It cried, and kept sinking its teeth on his skin, weakly. Meanwhile, Master went away.

…It stopped fighting when the car disappeared, hanging limply from the man’s arms. With little effort it was carried inside the house and placed over a rug.

It felt so weak. Shivers ran through its whole body… The man – Master – was inspecting his arm, marked with bites…

It gasped. Oh no. What had it done? It would lose the rest of its teeth for it. Master would crush each one of them, twist around and pull them out. It clapped its mouth shut, eyes widening in horror. It deserved it, it was bad, bad mutt, bad pet, bad, bad, bad…

With a cry, it lowered its forehead to the floor, covering its head with the trembling arms. Bonnie fell to the side, but it didn’t mattered. It wanted to disappear.

“…Shhh it’s okay” ...his new Master’s voice was so sweet and soft. It didn’t fit at all with the blank, uncanny person “You want an ear scratch? Warren said you loved those”

Shivering it lifted its eyes. Ear scratch? Those were for good pets. It wasn’t a good pet. It reached for Bonnie, pulling it close.

“S—she w—wants some”

“Does she have a name?” Master set near Blue. He held Bonnie and scratched behind her ears. Bonnie was good, she deserved this.

“B-b-b-onnie”

“A very cute name. She is a very good girl”

It nodded. She was! She was always so good…

…Footsteps. It lifted its head, flinching back. There were more people? It had always been just it and the Master, no one else!

“It’s okay. Come here, Haru, darling. This is Blue”

…The person approached, crouching down near Master. He seemed nervous, pulling Master’s sleeve.

“Blue, this is Haru. He is… He is… He is like you” Like Blue? So… Also a pet?

Blue decided to really take a look. The other pet… Was gorgeous. It had the longest hair Blue had ever seen, falling in soft curls… And it was all fluffy white like snow. When Blue’s hair was dyed, it had to be whitened first, but it always had this weird yellowish-green shade.

…Why would Master want Blue? That pet was so damn beautiful, and it looked like it could do any tasks Master asked, so why would it need Blue? Was Blue there just to be a punch bag? To take punishments for both of them? Maybe for something more sinister?

The pet was looking at Master’s arm, all marked by Blue’s bites… It seemed concerned and fearful.

“It’s okay darling, I’ll be okay. Blue was very scared” Master soothed, a hand caressing the other pet’s face.

…Blue lowered its head again, sobbing violently. There was no way it could compete with that pet. There was nothing it could do. It was just worthless, useless, ugly and dumb and, and…

The pet – Haru – had approached, offering it a hand. It looked at Master nervously, but Master said nothing… So it reached for it. Haru cupped its hand and squeezed it gently, rubbing soft circles on the back.

It breathed, distraught by how soothing this was. It shouldn’t be soothed! It should be punished, it should be screaming in pain. It, it just prayed that this Master didn’t like blood either, so he wouldn’t take Blue’s teeth out.

“P-pp-punish me Master” it cried. It helped that the other pet was still holding its hand… It felt comforting “Please punish your stupid pet. It was, it was s-s-so bad…”

“Haven’t you suffered enough, Blue?”

It looked confused at Master. W-what did that mean? It hadn’t been punished yet. It needed to pay for its behavior! It was so ashamed.

“M-M-m-master… I-It b-b-behaved terribly…”

…It nearly flinched when it felt the hand on its hair. The other pet had approached more, and was running finger through its hair.

It looked fearfully at Haru, the pet smiled softly, big blue eyes. It mouthed ‘It’s okay’, but no sound came out.

“…You were scared. It’s a new situation, a new home and new people. It’s normal that you would be scared… Sometimes fear makes us do things like this. It’s alright.”

“B-b-but… I-it, i-i-it h-h-hurt M-m-master…” …The other pet held its head, cleaning away Blue’s tears. It had so soft hands… but every finger had a callus.

“…You won’t do that again, will you?”

“NO! Never, Blue wants to be good, please…”

“Then it’s okay. I forgive you”

It lost all air in shock. Forgiving Blue? For such a terrible thing? How, how was that possible? It didn’t deserve such mercy. Did Master had something more sinister planned…?

But taking a good look, Haru seemed… fine. It seemed well fed and had beautiful hair and, and no bruises. Would Master treat Blue the same? The other pet deserved to be cared for, it was good and useful… Blue wasn’t! Blue didn’t deserve to eat well or to not be hurt.

It whined, resting his head on the pet’s knees. Master handled Bonnie back to Blue. It hesitantly got her.

“Bonnie is… Is good” it hugged her.

“She is” Master said “You are too, Blue”

“N-no…” It whined, nuzzling on Haru’s lap, almost melting as he carefully pet its head.

“Well, I think you are” Master says offering it a smile “…And you are safe here, I promise. I hope you can start seeing here as your home soon.”

It hugged Bonnie tight, closing its eyes and wishing it could sleep there, with the other pet holding it. It wondered how long this ‘home’ would last.

#whump #whump writing #confort fic :3

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imnotwolverine · 3 years

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The Accidental Family - I am..WHAT?!

Henry Cavill x OFC Phoebe (Bee)

Warnings: mentions of smut, strong language, unplanned pregnancy, sad fluff

Word count: 2.414

Author’s note: OKAY..one more to finish the year. I’m writing this while frying oliebollen (Dutch dough balls we eat during festivities) and my fingers are all sticky and sweet, but hey; I can’t leave you readers hanging on the last day of this miserable year! Kisses 😘

(Link to my Masterlist)

Phoebe was done with it all. Done with this week; done with the slump that was her life right now. She just worked through a week with three over-time shifts at the hospital, some annoyances with her new IUD and Leon. Fucking-fucktard Leon.

But tonight she was going to be a big girl and suck it up, because heck; she was a good friend and tonight was Megan’s night. After long years of hard toil and shitty side-jobs, Megan had MADE it. She had gotten her first serious acting gig and tonight was the premiere, to which Phoebe would be her +1.

Single girls unite.

Sighing, Phoebe leaned into her make-up mirror, applying a coat of lipgloss to her pursed lips, heavy eyelashes fluttering. She never wore this much make-up, but it seemed like a thing you did when you went to such a fancy party. An A-lister party. Would Meryl Streep be there? She always had wanted to meet Meryl Streep.

Smacking her lips to feel the stickiness of her lipgloss - why did people like wearing this crap? -, she moved out to the hall of her small apartment where she heard the intercom buzz. Alright. Showtime.

‘Coming!’ She called to nobody in particular, hastily looking over the rows of shoes that were messily stacked by her door. Heels - heels - heels. And that scarf. Leon’s scarf. “Accidentally” left behind after he had come over to finally pick up the last of his things. She couldn’t stand the sight of it, and if it were a “good girl thing” to do, she’d shove it down the trash right now - like the trash he was. Cheater.

*tringgg*

Hurry! -- Okay, shoes! Purple, brown, practical, no - no - no.. And then her eye fell on the perhaps a bit painful, but very much sexy heels she had once bought to wear for her 6th anniversary with Leon. Fuck-Me-Pumps. With silvery diamond straps and all. He hadn’t given two damns about them, about her dreams she had tried to talk about during that dinner - kids - but then again, Phoebe learned a year later why that was; CHEATER.

‘Please bring me luck, babies.’ Phoebe mumbled, picking up the intercom that buzzed again. ‘Just putting on my shoes. Down in a minute.’

‘Alright m’am.’ A deep voice responded politely.

Was that the driver? It must be the driver! They had a driver?! OH MEGAN, YOU!

Excitement started to bubble in Phoebe’s tired bones as she realised that perhaps for tonight, things could be fun - painful shoes and all.

Show-time.

The water boiler gurgled lazily on the countertop, two pairs of eyes staring down at it, willing it to go faster.

‘You didn’t respond to my text.’ Henry tried to keep a casual tone, but even with all his acting experience, the hurt was evident as his blue eyes swiftly moved over to Phoebe, who that had just knocked on his door after 3 months of radio silence.

‘Yea...’ Phoebe cleared her throat and awkwardly leaned into the opposite kitchen counter Henry was leaning into. The tension was tangible and for a moment she scolded herself for pushing Megan to find out Henry’s address.

‘..some..stuff happened.’

‘Is this the point where you’re going to tell me you’re married and your husband found out?’

Phoebe’s eyes widened and a chuckle escaped her lips, making Henry frown. ‘That might have just made all this a bit easier. But eh..no. I ..’

‘FEEEEBBsss where WEREEEE youu. Oh my god. Have you met..’ Phoebe could barely manage to stay balanced on her high heels as Megan’s hand dragged her away from the toilets - away from him - and onto one of the far corners of the crowded room where some mildly creepy man was waving at Megan. Megan waved back, but Phoebe could only focus on the burst of white camera flashes behind her, her eyes wishing to look if he followed.

But Megan’s grip was tight and Phoebe was perhaps three shot glasses too drunk to stay on her feet AND look over her shoulder - the deep pink blush on her cheeks betraying that something was going on.

‘..so I had this super fun chat with Michael. You know Michael right? I mean he was crazyyy excited about..Phoebe? Earth to Phoebe!’ Megan’s neatly manicured nail prodded into Phoebe’s silvery dress, awakening the blond woman from her over-shoulder stare when they finally had halted.

‘Wh-what? Hi! Sorry. Eh..’ Instantly the deep pink worsened on Phoebe’s cheeks as Megan shot her one unbelieving wild eyed stare - she knew. Oh fuck, she knew.

‘You know what - if you’d excuse us for a moment.’ Megan smiled charmingly at the old man that was checking her out for all the wrong reasons.

Again Megan’s hand pulled on her arm, but this time they travelled less far, walking out to a more quiet area guarded by some heavy red curtains which offered a walkway for the staff who much resembled an army of tuxedo clad ants moving large trays of fizz around.

‘You are 50 shades of red, hun.’ Megan chuckled, wiping some mildly smudged lipgloss from Phoebe’s chin.

‘Oh, woops.’ Phoebe quickly mimicked the wipe on her chin, but the sticky residue was already gone - though other sticky residue on some other lips were most definitely still there.

Shit, she had to get cleaned up fast. She wasn’t even wearing any PANTIES. DAMMIT. Oh my...how..why..Wobbling dangerously on her heels again, Phoebe lurched for one of the walls, a sudden wave of nausea coming over her as her red cheeks turned bitter green.

‘Awh shit Feebs. You OK? Eh..Ehhhhh...’ Nervously Megan looked around the stretch of the hallway, black and white tuxedos cruising deftly around with the patterns of a well-practised champagne carrying dance.

‘Pfff...’ Phoebe tried to breath in deeply, inhaling whatever air she could muster in her suddenly claustrophobically tight lungs. Oh what did she do?!!! OH NO. Oh Christ. Good girls don’t shag in toilet stalls. Good girls don’t... ‘Pff - pff -pff’ With short little puffs she let out the air, but the nausea didn’t fade. How did pregnant women do that? Damn.

‘I gotta go home.’

‘Yea-yea. Let me fix you a cab.’ Megan clipped her fingers and in a few minutes Phoebe was loaded into a cab, away from the bustling bubble of Hollywood A-listers and hot shots.

The fairytale, was over.

‘I got scared.’

‘Of me?’ Henry’s face pulled into one of agony, making him look even more disheveled with his wild curls, crumpled white shirt - which looked much too good on his large chest - and loose hanging grey sweatpants.

‘No. I mean. Eh. Well. I lost my phone and..I called..and..someone picked up.’

‘Lea? Miranda? What someone?’ Henry stepped a little closer as the water cooker started to come to a slow boil.

‘I don’t know. I -- They said they never heard of me, so I explained what..happened - oh fuck I shouldn’t have..I...pfffff. I panicked.’ A heavy blush crept over her cheeks as she nervously eyed the water boiler, the little lever moving back to “off” as the water danced in a heavy boil within.

‘Gr-green tea? English tea? Mint? I got some..’ Henry’s voice trailed off.

Phoebe shrugged and brushed a hand over her cheek, willing herself to stop blushing as the large stranger of a man brushed passed her to reach for the tea bags that were located just beside her head.

‘Oh sorry.’ She quickly tried to get away, but Henry could only grin.

‘It’s not funny, Cavill.’ Phoebe pouted shyly.

‘Well you stood me up. I’m allowed to..smile, no?’

Phoebe opened her mouth to say something. Perhaps ask for forgiveness, or further her explanation to why she chickened out to trying again - and how she had even gotten his address. But no words came and so she just watched as Henry turned back to the task of making tea, bunching a few mint leaves in the two grey mugs that were settled on the smooth grey kitchen counter.

This man sure liked his greys.

‘I eh..actually ..had to tell you something.’

Even Phoebe herself wasn’t prepared for the words that had just escaped her lips, but there they were, earning a surprised quirk of Henry’s eyebrow.

‘You don’t say.’ His lip curled into another cheeky grin and Phoebe couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. Henry chuckled and hinted in the direction of the kitchen table. ‘Let’s sit.’

-- And that was a very good idea --

‘Meg..oh I’m in deep shit.’ Phoebe paced her small hallway as she waited for her friend’s voice to soothe her stomach fluttering nerves, her new smartphone clutched tightly in her hand.

‘Oh- oh- wait a sec. Baby..yea..mommy is gonna be righttt there. Just a moment okay?’ A short pause followed and then Megan finally answered. ‘HEYY booo. What’s cooking goodlookin’?’

‘A baby, that’s what.’

‘W-what?’

Why didn’t he say anything? Phoebe nervously fingered the ear of her mug, waiting for Henry to give any kind of response to what she had just explained, and for the slightest moment she considered fleeing again - like she had numerous times when she tried to find the courage and call him, text him - anything. But that just hadn’t sat right, felt right. And then for long weeks she just pushed the reality of it all away. How could she be pregnant?! HOW?!

The new IUD, that’s how. But, Henry had used protection; how much bad luck could one have?! So much for accidents that happen in cramped little bathroom stalls.

Finally Henry made a noise, but it was more like a surprised squeak, then any normal sound a man his size would make.

‘I’m sorry.’ Phoebe lowered her eyes a little more, taking it up as a; yea, this is not cool, girlfriend.

No, scratch that - she was not even his girlfriend. Ha! They were strangers for fuck’s sake.

‘O-okay.’ Henry inhaled deeply and nodded, brushing a hand over the head of his dog, who was pushing a curious nose into his lap. ‘Okay. Wow.’

‘Yea..’ Phoebe swallowed thickly. ‘I..I’m keeping it either way. But..I thought..’ Her fingers had apparently curled around the mug so fiercely that it right about screamed as its small ear broke off. ‘OH FUCK.’ Her eyes widened as her lips turned into a shocked little “o”.

Henry laughed. ‘Well, we better get new mugs before that baby is born.’

Was he being sarcastic? Phoebe felt like she was close to tears as the man before her cracked out the mug joke. Oh, why did she always ruin things?!

‘Oh don’t cry. Please don’t cry. It’s just a mug.’ Henry’s smile turned into a pained lip bite as he saw the silvery tears rim Phoebe’s eyes. But Phoebe couldn’t help it, her lower lip already shivering as she looked down at the broken little tea ear in her hand.

‘I’m sorry..’ She whimpered pathetically, the first tears already beading down her cheek before Henry could push away his chair and squat down beside her.

‘Hey-hey. It’s okay. It’s..hey, come on now.’

‘I’ll *sniff* g-get a new..ha..new one *sniff*’

Henry smiled, slowly shaking his head before he carefully brushed his fingers through her golden locks, hooking them behind her ear so he could properly see her face.

‘Bee..’ His voice lowered to a gentle hum.

‘It’s Phoebe by the way.’ She sniffled.

‘Okay. Hello Phoebe.’ His hand folded around her hand that was carefully holding onto the broken off mug ear. Hesitantly, Phoebe looked away from her hand, right into the blue ocean that had drawn her in some three months ago from across the crowded room. She now too noticed a little fleck of brown in there - a little accidental mutation. Would the baby have his eyes?

‘H-hi.’ She sniffled, trying her best to turn her lips in a smile, but it only worsened everything, more tears bursting from her eyes as the stress and chaos of the past months came crashing down. In an instant she felt herself be enveloped by large warm arms, a hot breath fanning over her head as Henry nuzzled her hair, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear as he spoke:

‘It was just an accident, okay? No harm done.’

Phoebe nodded, but scolded herself anyways. Sure enough he was just talking about the mug. The stupid fucking mug. But what about the fucking baby?! Her..- his - baby.

‘Phoebe? Bee?’ He settled back a little, his fingers brushing through her hair again. ‘How about we go sit on the couch and I make you a new cup of tea and we..’ He licked his lip as his eyes quickly flew over her heart-shaped, tear bruised face. He had to try hard not to unnecessarily coo over her. He didn’t want to chase her away this time. Especially not now. Not with this..situation.

A..baby?!

‘You don’t have to be so nice you know.’ Phoebe muttered, looking back at him.

‘Well, too bad I’m a nice guy then.’ -- Who is going to be a dad!!! WOO! -- His lips curled in a sweet smile.

‘Nice guys don’t shag women in bathroom stalls, do they?’

Henry cleared his throat at her sharp words, quickly looking down at his hand covering hers. ‘Yea..that was a ..bit uncharacteristic of mine. Ha..fuck..You know I scolded myself so hard for doing that. I-I sent you a pretty long Whatsapp message after, but..’

‘I never got that. Must be some syncing issue when I got my new phone.’ Phoebe’s lips curled in a watery smile. ‘The couch is fine.’

‘Okay.’ Henry’s smile grew a little. ‘Can you walk?’

‘Pff..Of course I can walk.’ She huffed, before she all but flew up into Henry’s chest in surprise when she was nuzzled by a very wet nose.

‘Oh, I forgot to mention, this is Kal. My dog. And he likes the word “walk”’ - the dog borked softly - ‘very much.’

They both laughed and Kal’s ears perked up, his wet nose pressing in Phoebe’s elbow again, pushing her further up into Henry’s welcoming arms.

The whole situation was weird, but as Henry felt how naturally they somehow melted into an embrace, her arms wrapping around his back, he could only smile.

Sometimes accidents simply offered you the little push you needed all along. Be it in the form of broken mugs or babies.

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@tryingtoliveonmywishes @ceilingfann @do-youseeme

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x ofc #the accidental family #oneshot

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jae-daddy · 4 years

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magic

draco malfoy fanfic

two / three / four / five / six

they said i did something bad. then whys it feel so good? forgive me, jaebum for i have sinned. i dont even know if this is a joke at this point... oh lord

pairing: draco malfoy x reader genre: shifting realities, romance, a whole fucking joke as clown shit plot: you were trying to shift realities for the lols but end up in actual harry potter world and meet Draco Malfoy, who ends up helping you, and you are also a filthy muggle. an: i dont know. i dont know. i dont know. not edited

_____________________________________________

"Who are you?” He asked, looking over to you from the edge of his bed. Predictably his whole room was black and the darkest shade of green; he sure did have house pride.

But he sure as hell was terrifying too.

You didn’t think it’ll work. You didn’t know it would work this well. You thought it’d be a mini trip, like a daydream or something. This isn’t what you had imagined.

You were actually there.

You felt the warmth of his room, you felt the thickness of the air. The smell of his cologue hanging in the air, mixed with something else almost chocking you. Your toes felt the hard floor beneath your feet.

This couldn’t have worked.

“Are you deaf?” The white haired villan smirked at you, he wasn’t scared. Why would he be; this was his house, his room. “I asked what your name is?”

“My name is y/n,” you blurted, your head still trying to wrap around what was happening. You tried saying something else, but you were stammering, your throat closing around your voice.

“Y/n.” He repeated, a permanent sneer on his face. He gently threw the book in his hand, and began walking towards to you. He was graceful, etheral; taking his time with every action.

You stood there, in the middle of his room. Your palms sweaty, your heart racing, and your throat running dry.

“And what are you doing here?” He gave a chilling smile, making icy claws run down your back.

“I-” you tried to answer, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t find the words, and your eyes began burning with threatening tears.

You were just trying to shift realities as a joke. You thought it would be like a dream. This wasn’t a dream.

You knew it wasn’t.

It was real, and you were here.

Draco Malfoy was standing infront of you. You were in his room, in his mansion.

And then another thought hit you, making you feel sick.

You were going to die.

He snorted as he stopped in front of you. His fingers wrapping around his wand placed on his waist.

You choked back the sob that was threatening to escape.

“How did you get into my room?” He placed the cool tip under your chin, making you look into his icy cold eyes. He was goregoues.

Draco Malfoy was beautiful, and he was going to kill you.

“Answer me.” His jaw locked in anger, and you almost fell onto his feet to beg for your life.

“I shifted,” you managed through your stuttering words. “I shifted realities.

“I didn’t know it would be like this though,” you moved away from his wand, and settled on his armchair before your weakened knees gave away. “I swear, it was not meant to be like this. I was still supposed to be at home.”

Maybe if you end it you’ll go back.

You tried to think of ways to end it. You clapped three times.

“Take me back!” Nothing.

“End!” Nothing.

“Please end this, take me back.” You prayed, but nothing.

Draco looked at you, terrified.

“What are you doing?” He asked you, getting your attention. “What do you mean shifting realities?”

“It’s this trend on tiktok-”

“Tiktok?” His very british accent made you smile a little. “What is that?”

“Its an app, and there is that whole side that is dedicated to you-”

“What are you babbling on about?” He cut you off, his eyes blazing now. He strided over to you, and you shrunk in your seat.

“Draco,” you breathed, and his eyes widened.

“How do you know my name?” But then it turned into an angry sneer as he clicked his tongue. “You’re at my house, of course you know my name.”

“What year is this?” You gulped, looking up to Draco as he studied you.

“Don’t ask me questions.” He warned you, his voice low. “Who are you and what are you doing here? This is the last time I am asking nicely.”

You believed him.

“I am y/n, and I accidently shifted realities and ended up in Harry Potter universe.”

“Potter?” Draco hissed. “You know Potter?”

“Yeah, like I know you, Draco Malfoy.”

“But I don’t know you,” he looked at you puzzled.

“Exactly,” you breathed. “You don’t, but I know you. I’ve seen you and I know what’s happening. Just tell me what year it is.”

“Its 1988, are you mental?”

“I don’t even know what that means,” you whimpered at how stupid you were. You hadn’t even read any of the books. You’ve just seen the movies once, and then many clips of Draco. “Oh God.”

“Has the tournament thing happened?” You asked, searching for landmarks you recognised. “Has Voldemort returned?”

Draco froze at that, his eyes hardening as he took you in. You were dressed in your black joggers, black, green and white striped top, your hair messy and wild, and fuzzy pink socks on your feet.

“What are you?” he gritted from his teeth.

“A human?” you bit your lip.

He gave so much shit to Hermonine for being half-magically. You were a muggle, a normal magicless human through and through. He was going to kill you. He was going to hand you over to them.

“What academy do you attend?”

“Uh, none,” you breathed, as tears filled your eyes. “I don’t have magic.”

Draco stared at you in shock, before a sinister smile itched his lips.

“I am a muggle,” you got up from the chair, slowly moving back. Draco followed your steps, tracing you like a predator.

“Please,” you breathed as a tear fell from your eyes. “Please don’t kill me.”

He instantly stopped and frowned at that.

“Don’t hand me to them, they will kill me.”

Draco reached for his wand, and you instantly closed your eyes and thought of love.

You thought of GOT7, of Jaebum, of hot summer days by the beach, of your family, your friends. Your favourite movie, the first boy you liked, the pink flowers you could see from your window marking the beginning of spring. You thought everything that made you feel warm and happy, and hoped it was enough.

You hoped it was enough love.

“What are you doing?” He stopped and asked you. You opened your tightly squeezed eyes and looked at his cold glare.

“I was thinking of love,” you gulped, your sweaty palms a fidgetting mess.

Draco’s eyes widened as he gaped at you, the corners of his lips twitching as if he was trying to keep himself from laughing.

“I’m sorry, you’re what?” He asked in disbelief, a beautiful smile on his face despite his attempt to stop it.

Your heart stopped as butterflies erupted in your tummy. You were about to die, but you still couldn’t stop fangirling about Draco Malfoy and that beautiful smile he was giving you.

“Love, you know, it’s like the greatest magic, right?” You explained, your words stumbling out of you faster than you could register. “I’ve seen it in movies, and books! That’s how Feyre saved Tamlin the Asshole; the answer was love. It always is love. You know, love- that’s how Harry survived Voldemort.”

Draco looks at you in shock, before a deep laugh erupts from him. He throws his head back, his hands on his thighs, his wand limp, as his shoulders shook and tears filled his eyes.

“You’re a real work of art, aren’t you?” He laughed, as he looked at you through the curtain of his blonde hair. He slightly sobered and stood up, his lips still turned upwards. “I haven’t laughed that hard in so long. Thank you for that,” he smiled, and you gave him a small smile, despite your shivering heart.

“But, sorry love,” he gave you a loopsided smirk. “You’ll have to leave now.”

“I don’t know how,” you whispered at him, but his smiled just grew.

“Maybe, I can help,” he brought out his wand, most likely about to kill you.

“Ener-” Draco lifted his wand to you, when a loud knock banged against the door.

“Draco!” Lucius Malfoy called, the handle of his door jiggled.

Draco looked at your wide fear-struck eyes and then back at the door.

“How many times have I told you not to lock your door boy?”

“Evanesco!” Draco quickly whispered as he threw a blanket over you, and pushed you into his closet.

“Keep quiet.” He muttered, closing the door, just as his father walked in.

It felt as if the winter walked with Lucius Malfoy. The whole room was covered in a blanket of a spine-chilling cold as his shoes and stick clacked against the hard floor.

“Father,” Draco said, his voice calm.

“How many times have I told you not to lock your door?” Lucius slowly spoke with distaste. “Or to not wear that nonsense on your ears?”

Headphones? Your brows furrowed together.

“Sorry, Father,” was all Draco said.

“Your mother and I are going to attend a dinner of great importance,” he spoke, stopping right in front of the closet. Your heart hammered against your chest, and you stopped breathing. You were too scared to even blink. “Would you like to join us? Your company would be appreciated.”

Draco took a moment to reply, and then finally answered, “You and mother go, I have a lot to prepare for school.” Lucius must have raised an eyebrow in question.

“I want to study ahead so I can focus on other activities when Hogwarts resumes.” Draco quickly added.

After what felt like an eternity, Lucius finally said “Very well.”

And walked out.

The door clicked shut, but you didn’t move.

He waited two whole minutes before he finally moved again.

He opened the closet, and took the blanket off your head. You looked up to find Draco crouching infront you, a smirk on his lips.

“What are we to do about you now, you filthy muggle?” He asked, his lips curled in a sneer, but his eyes shone with concern and panic.

You didn’t know. You really didn’t know.

But you were happy that it didn’t seem like Draco Malfoy would be killing you anytime soon.

#draco malfoy #draco #draco x y/n #bro I don't even know #jaedaddy #I really dont know #but I just can't not #you know #this is written so bad #im just here for the ride #harry potter

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aceofspadegrass · 3 years

Note

Hey hey hey! Haven't been requesting for quiet a while.

Remember the chishiya kitty and Niragi kitty ya know pre-border kitties!

Yeah can I have a part 2 where *inhales* NIJIRO CAN'T FIND A HOME FOR THE BOTH OF THE KITTIES SO HE ADOPTED CHISHIYA WHILE DORI ADOPTED NIRAGI AND THEY BOTH TAKE THE BOTH OF THEM TO WORK IN THEIR STUDIO WHILE FILMING (yes fanta is there too, and the other doggies) AND WHEN IT WAS TIME FOR DORI TO SHOOT THE FLASHBACK SCENE WHERE NIRAGI GETS...ya know..I AM SAD OF THAT SCENE OKAY!? HE GOT BRUISES AND ALL-

and after that scene Dori comes looking for kitty Niragi and saw the kitten all shaking beneath the black chair that say's the word 'NIRAGI' in the back, ya know those chairs right? (Fanta is there right next to the kitten licking it's head in reassurance what good pupper! He is trained so well-)

The rest is up to you!

Pre-BorderKitties, Now with a Baseball

Characters: Sakurada Dori, Murakami Nijiro, Yanagi Shuntaro (Mentioned), Niragi Suguru (Technically), Chishiya Shuntaro (Technically and also only mentioned)

Genre: Fluff with a little angst. Just a tad. Poor kitty Niragi, he saw baseball season.

1.5k words

Well here you go buddy! It was fun to write, but poor kitty Niragi, he saw something he wasn't supposed to. I like to imagine Niragi later got to hang out at the 'Beach' in a separate room as they filmed the rest, without seeing the fate of his owner wearing the future human version of him. ✨

(Also I'm reusing the liner from the other one because it's nice.)

The next few days turned into weeks, much longer than the either were expecting.

Murakami came by every day to help Sakurada with the kittens faithfully, as he promised. Since then, the kittens have warmed up a little to them, and by the end of the month they ended up adopting a kitten each. Murakami thought it would be more funnier to take the cat after their character, so now Sakurada had a little dark grey kitten as well as his precious dog. Niragi was still pretty much the same as he was the first day Sakurada met him, skittish and wary of everything, but now a little more willing to cuddle next to Sakurada.

Today was filming day for Alice in Borderland, Sakurada driving over to the site where they were filming one of the scenes, Fanta happily chilling in the backseat with Niragi sitting next to the pupper, the both safely fastened to the car so they couldn’t get thrown around if something happened. Fanta was using a leash while Niragi was just huddled in a little cloth that was attached to a smaller strap, but it was effective enough.

Sakurada parks by the rest of the cars and gets out, opening the door and releasing his pets from the car, Fanta hopping down to walk besides Sakurada. Niragi was carried out instead, the three heading over to where the others where, Sakurada waving at the others there as he passed by and went to the dressing trailer they set up. Later on in the day they’d be shooting the other parts of the Beach episodes, and he didn’t need to be staying in his Pre-Borderland outfit for that long, so it was just a quick change here instead of coming already dressed. He spots Murakami not that far away, the man there despite not filming any scenes until much later in the day, Chishiya cradled in his arms and apparently sleeping.

“ Hi Sakurada!” Murakami waves to Sakurada from a distance, then comes closer and bows properly. “ Good luck during filming today!”

“ Thanks Murakami. What are you doing here?” Sakurada asked, Murakami smiling at him as he straightens up, Chishiya still fast asleep despite the brief squishing he just endured.

“ Well, I just came by to watch! That and I heard you were bringing your pets to work, so I wanted to see them too!” Murakami chirps, Sakurada chuckling. He gestures to Fanta, who was still by his feet, Murakami bending down and petting the pupper. Fanta gives a soft bark and wags his little tail, happy to be getting attention without having to do much. Murakami stands up again and waves to Niragi as well, who was curled up in Sakurada’s arm.

“ Well, I better get going now. Talk to you later!”

“ Okay, I will!”

Sakurada goes to gets dressed and heads out once he finished, placing kitty Niragi down on the chair with his name on it. The kitten mews up at him the moment Niragi left Sakurada’s warm hands. Sakurada smiles at Niragi and gently pets the kitten, which earns him the tiniest of purrs and a loafed bean when he lifts his hand up. “ You stay here and rest for a bit, okay Niragi? I need to go work for a little bit~”

Niragi only stays here and watches as Sakurada heads towards the bridge where the scene would be, not far from where everything else was. Sakurada could see Fanta happily playing with Yanagi’s dog Merry not that far away. Sakurada appreciated that Yanagi came by just to hang out with Fanta once he heard that Sakurada was taking his dog to the site so that when they were released until later on they could just hang out and do normal people things. Maybe they could walk the dogs together, that’d be fun.

The scene itself was thankfully taken within a few shots so Sakurada didn’t have to worry about any real bruising on his beautiful face. The hits weren’t as hard as it looked, they made sure to use softballs and not apply as much pressure as it was depicted to prevent any real damage, but the acting (and extra makeup they applied to make it more realistic) still had to make it seem they were the real deal. Sakurada congratulated everyone for the good job, the others even coming over to check to assure he was perfectly alright before they broke for a break and moved locations to film some more scenes at the ‘Beach’ indoors, the nighttime outdoor scenes taking much later in the day.

Sakurada heads back to the break area, but pauses when he notices something wrong, Murakami wandering around with worry on his face.

“ Murakami? Murakami, what’s wrong?” Sakurada jogged over to his friend, Murakami looking up at Sakurada.

“ I can’t find Niragi.” “ Huh? What do you mean?”

Murakami looks at the ground, eyes flicking around to try to spot the kitten. “ Well, I thought it’d be a good idea to let the kitten roam around a little, under my supervision on course! So I took him off the chair you left him on. But….”

Sakurada raised an eyebrow as he waited for Murakami to finish, although panic was already seeping into his bones. “ But…?”

“ Well, I think Niragi saw you guys acting out that scene, and he suddenly ran off. I don’t know where he went. Goodness, I hope he didn’t run far…”

Sakurada frowns, then nods. “ Let’s look for him. Go see if Yanagi spotted him too.”

Murakami nods in return, and they part, Sakurada looking around to see if he could find the skittish kitten, including underneath places a kitten could’ve been. He shouldn’t have ran far, but since this was a fairly open area…. Sakurada shivered at the thought of what could happen. He even called out the kitten’s name a few times and asked the others if they saw where Niragi had scampered off too, but no results.

Sakurada was about ready to start looking outside the area where they had all been in when he felt paws against his shoe. Sakurada looks down to Merry, who barks and runs off almost immediately, Sakurada following after the dog.

“ What is it Merry?” Sakurada asked, the pupper stopping in front of the black chair where he last had left the kitten. “ Wait, is he….?” Merry barks in response and wags her tail, the trots off after apparently having completing the mission the dog set out to do.

Sakurada lets out a small chuckle at the dog’s antics, then finally checks underneath the chair, finally getting his prize of finding his kitten. Niragi was curled up right underneath the shade of the chair, easily fading into the shadows with how dark and small he was. Sakurada reaches out for the kitten, and the moment his fingers grazed the kitten he felt the poor thing shaking, and a short mew erupted from Niragi, full of fear. Sakurada instantly started hushing the heightened kitten, staying still and reassuring Niragi that he was alright..

“ Oh, did I scare you? I’m sorry Niragi, I didn’t mean to. I’m alright, see? Nothing’s gonna hurt you either you little vanilla bean, oh I’m so sorry if that scared you….” Sakurada says in a soft tone, the kitten mewing again while he continued to shake, fur puffed up all over and resembling a dust bunny.

The sad mews seemed to have caught Fanta’s attention as well, the dog padding over and laying next to Niragi, licking the kitten as if he knew the best way to calm a crying bean.

The two laid there underneath the chair comforting the kitten for a while, and while others did come by to see if everything was okay, Sakurada always politely sent them on their way to reduce Niragi’s stress. Eventually he could scoop the kitten up, getting into a sitting position as the kitten trembled against his chest, a paw moving to press against his chest, which was still in the school uniform he was supposed to wear.

“ It’s alright now Niragi, I’m here. I’m here.” Sakurada continued to soothe, cradling the kitten as he heads to the trailer. After all, he still needed to change out and get the makeup wiped off so he could head to the other location for more filming.

Afterwards, he gets up and heads to his car, grabbing the little cloth pouch with the strap. Thankfully, it also functioned as a sort of carrier, Sakurada tying it around himself and settling the kitten to rest within, right up to his heart so the kitten could listen to his perfectly alright heart. Within seconds the kitten began to quietly purr, curling up safely in the comfort of Sakurada. Sakurada nods in satisfaction, and he heads to where Yanagi was, the man offering the extra leash he brought so they could walk their dogs together, Sakurada quickly thanking him. He calls his dog over, Fanta trotting over and letting Sakurada clip the leash to him. Hopefully Fanta would walk for a fair distance, knowing how much more he preferred to just flop and become a fried dumpling instead, the two setting off for a nice brisk walk until they had to head down for the rest of filming.

Niragi, at the very least, was safe and comfortable, the best way Sakurada preferred him to be after that harrowing experience for the kitten.

#aib #alice in borderland #sakurada dori #murakami nijiro #yanagi shuntaro #chishiya shuntaro #niragi suguru #pre niragi kitty is trying his best to interact but people spooky~#poor baby saw his owner get smacked as his human version :(#also kitty chishiya is just sleeping because he simply isn't bothered #good thing kitty niragi didn't run off too far that'd be disasterous #i haven't the slightest of clue of the order they filmed everything so i made it as i went #maybe kitty niragi learns the gremlin behaviour from watching sakurada play as niragi at the beach :0 such a smart kitty #fanta is so precious~#so is merry :D #ask

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beauvibaby · 4 years

Text

motivation - f.andersen

“And.. he scores!” My face fell, and I tuned out the cheering from the jackets fans, my eyes focusing on Freddie and his boys as they slightly shook their heads. I chewed the tip of my thumb as I watched them skate off the ice, they were bound to be pissed, so close yet so far. Freddie caught a glimpse of me through the glass and his face was blank, normally even after a loss he can muster up some kind of smile, even for a split second, but this time it was nothing, not even a twitch.

I stood along side Stephanie in the wide hallway outside of the locker room, both of us looking up every time we heard movement. Of course, it was never who we wanted it to be, shockingly Auston was the first one out, walking straight over to his mom who was giving him that look. The one that says “don’t be too hard on yourself, mijo, you did good”, the type of look everyone here would be giving the team. Freddie always put on a tough exterior, but when we got home it could be a different story, he could get quite the attitude. “Awe, babe, you played amazing, alright?” Stephanie spoke wrapping her arms around Mitch’s neck as soon as she saw him. “Freddie.” I breathed out when he finally emerged, he gave me a quick hug and a peck to my forehead before I could say anything else. “Let’s just go.” He grumbled, I held back a sigh, knowing it was going to be a long night.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning a shade of white as we got stuck in this god awful snow filled traffic. I could see Freddie glance around me from the corner of my eyes, but I didn’t speak, as he hadn’t said anything else to me either yet, both of us wanting to get home. “Freddie?” I finally caved, seeing how the cars were at a nearly complete stand still. “What?” He snapped a little harsher than I think he intended, but he didn’t look away from his phone, god knows he was probably watching the tape, trying to figure out what he could’ve done better. “Don’t do that.” I sighed pointing to his phone, he clicked the screen off and put it in the cup holder, shooting me a look, “happy now.” He was acting childish. “You did great, okay? It was a long game, you still have another shot-“ “We shouldn’t need to still have another shot, Y/N! That’s the fucking problem, we should’ve already moved on to the next round.” He cut me off, his voice booming in the car. I rolled my eyes a little as I slowly inched along the road. The guys always set high expectations for themselves, and when they didn’t meet them, they got furious. “Baby, it’s best of five, you can still do this. That’s what you need to focus on.” I explained calmly, he didn’t look at me, only continued looking out the window, cringing when I nearly slid in the ice. “Do you want me to drive?” He asked, annoyance dripping from his tone. I bit my lip for a moment, “no, you’re acting like a child, so I don’t want you to drive like one.” I finally snapped back at him. I could see him analyzing the side of my face, something he does when he knows he’s upset me, “I didn’t-“ “Just wait until we get home, please, I don’t want to have an accident.” I cut him off, my knuckles once again turning white on the steering wheel.

I fiddled with the ring on my left hand as we stood in silence riding up the elevator, I could feel his eyes on me, he grabbed my hand, keeping me from messing with the ring, he always freaked out when I did that, thinking I would be having second thoughts on our engagement. I glanced up at him but he was looking straight ahead, still with that pissed off tension in his jaw. I sighed as the doors opened, walking out first, pulling him along. He unlocked the door for me, holding it open, he was silently trying to apologize for being snappy towards me. “I didn’t mean to be rude to you, you know that.” He spoke, and I nodded, stepping inside, kicking my shoes off as he shut the door. “Freddie, I understand that you’re going to be upset about losing a game, alright? It’s totally acceptable, but you go into this head space that’s not even healthy, you all played great, you saved so many shots tonight, I wish you could see that.” I explained, he watched me with hard eyes, nodding even if he didn’t want to admit it. “But, at the end of the night, I still let four shots in.” He pointed out and I sighed for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, I nodded silently, walking away from him and towards our bedroom, I could hear him padding along behind me. “That’s why I’m pissed.” He grumbled, disappearing into the bathroom, I watched him shut the door, harder than normal, I heard the shower turn on, I sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over. Thoughts running through my mind, once I heard him get in the shower, I stood to my feet and walked over to the dresser, digging out the gift I had been hiding from him, I was planning on waiting until after the first round of playoffs, but he needs a good pick me up now. I took the small white gift bag, peeking inside to triple check everything was in there. A baby sized Andersen jersey, and a onesie that said “a true fan begins in diapers” with the maple leaf logo beside it. I placed the bag on his pillow, leaving the room once I changed into my pajamas, I glanced back as I heard the shower shut off, suddenly feeling nervous. What if he wasn’t happy, what if he didn’t want this now, what if- “y/n?” He called and I immediately walked back into the room, he was standing in front of the bathroom door, hair still dripping, and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. I hadn’t realized my eyes were welled up until his face softened, “baby, are you crying?” He whispered, rushing over to me. I shook my head, wiping the water from my eyes before he could, “I didn’t mean to be-“ “No, no, it’s not that, well not entirely that.” I cut him off, laughing softly when his wet hair dripped onto my night shirt. “Fuck the game, you’re right, we’ve still got a shot, now what’s wrong?” He asked, concern covering his face. I smiled and simply pulled him in for a kiss, he didn’t complain, holding me steady by my hips as I had to stand on my tippy toes. “I love you.” I murmured once I leaned back, “I love you, now you’re scaring me.” He responded, I finally took a shaky breath and pointed to the gift on the bed. He glanced back and furrowed his eyebrows, “you got me a gift for losing?” He teased, pulling me along with him to the bed.

“It’s not because you lost, I think it’s much more of a win actually.” I told him, he dramatically sat down on the bed, I shrieked in surprise when he pulled me down with him, arms wrapped around my stomach, but not tightly. He kissed the top of my shoulder through my shirt as he grabbed the bag, opening it slowly with me half on his lap, half on the bed, I draped my legs across his as I wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep me upright. He gave me one last look before finally diving his hand into the bag, he grabbed both items at once, and pulled them out, frowning as they were wrapped in more tissue paper. “My god, are you sure you even want me to open this?” He teased, ripping it open, just as he did so, “well, there’s kind of a due date for it so.” I mumbled watching as his face lit up as he held up the onesie, I had really hoped it would be the jersey he saw first. “Y/N, are you serious?!” He asked, scanning my face for any kind of joking look. “Why would I joke about having a baby?” I quipped, laughing when he pulled me in for a hug, “oh my god, this, this is amazing, why didn’t you tell me sooner? How far along are you? I have so many questions.” He rushed, stopping just long enough to pull me in for a kiss. I couldn’t help but grin against him, “I was going to tell you after you guys get in to the next round,” I paused making sure he understood my words, he gave me a lopsided smile, pure excitement dancing in his eyes. “But, I figured you could use some extra motivation now, I’m nearly ten weeks, I only found out about a week ago, I had an appointment while you were at practice.” I shimmied off of his lap as he processed my words, “open the other one, I’m going to grab my phone!” I called as I rushed down the hallway, having a recording of the heartbeat and a sonogram picture in my purse.

When I walked back into the room I stopped as I saw him leaned over the small jersey in his hand, I snapped a picture for myself so I could never forget this moment, not that I would. He glanced up when he heard my feet, and then I saw the single tear fall from his eyes, which just made me emotional all over again. “C’mere.” He muttered, sliding to the edge of the bed, I stood in front of him as he rested the top of his head on my chest, arms wrapped around my back. I played with his still slightly dampened hair, letting a tearful smile out when he ducked his head down for a moment, a delicate kiss being placed to my stomach through the fabric of my shirt. “Look.” I whispered handing him the single scan picture, it was hard to tell exactly what you were looking at, but I had the tech put an arrow on it, “baby Andersen!” Alongside it. I pulled the clip up on my phone, turning the volume all the way up, he took my phone and gasped when he heard the thumping come across, he smiled up at me when he heard me whisper an oh my god in the video. “I wish I had been there.” He mumbled once the sound ended, and I frowned. “Me too, baby I promise I didn’t know they were going to do all that, I didn’t even think I really could be pregnant.” I explained, cupping his jaw so he met my eyes, “it’s alright, I know.” He shushed me, it’s something we talked about quite frequently, especially after the engagement, when I was younger doctors always told me I’d have a hard time getting pregnant, but here I am.

“When can I tell the boys?” He asked after we had finally been laying in bed for a while, I laughed against his chest, “wait a couple weeks, yeah? Until we hit the safer zone.” I explained. He sighed but understood, “alright.”

*** bonus, telling the guys went like this***

They had finally made it into the next round of playoffs and were having a get together at our place to celebrate, we nearly always hosted so it wasn’t odd to anyone when we offered. Everyone but me had a drink or two in them when Freddie wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Ready?” He asked, kissing me quickly when I turned to look at him. “Ready.” I confirmed.

“Hey!” He called out, everyone silencing relatively quickly, I looked around the room, Auston, Mitch and Will beijg towards the front, which was perfect as I was the most excited for their responses. “Y/N and I have something we want to say.” He spoke up, Stephanie appeared beside Mitch, resting comfortably under his arm, I smiled at her and a knowing look cane across her face. “Oh my god!” She shrieked rushing over to me, the guys confused as Freddie and I laughed, “easy killer.” I joked when she nearly knocked me over in a hug. “Shit, ok I’m sorry go ahead say it.” She clapped her hands together stepping aside, Mitch shot her a confused look. “We’re having a baby!” I cheered and everyone gasped, Auston choked on his drink, “what?!” He spoke first after his coughing fit. Will and Mitch shared a look, “I called it, pay up!” Mitch demanded, Will grumbled and pulled out two twenties placing it in Mitch’s hand as Stephanie went back over to him. “Your man over here has had a pep in his step we couldn’t quite place.” Will pointed out as we both stared at them in shock, “Freddie!” I complained, whacking the back of his arm as congratulations started pouring out around us. I smiled as Auston came over and gave me a hug, doing the same to Freddie, the rest of the guys following suit.

“Baby Andersen, coming soon!” I attached a picture of Freddie and I holding the baby jersey and posted it on Instagram before settling in for the night, relishing in the fact that this was really happening.

Tag list: @literarycharleton

#imagine #imagines #nhl maple leafs #nhl writing #nhl imagine #nhl #frederik andersen #frederik andersen imagine #frederik andersen blurb

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hes-writer · 4 years

Text

Exclusive Content

this is a master list of all one shots, blurbs, series parts, and unfinished content that i have posted on patreon (so far)! click the title to read the sneak peek (if i’ve posted one)

———

*+VALENTINE’S DAY

the one where harry has an eventful day

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

* ACHY BACK

the one where y/n’s back hurts and harry draws a bath

“Took too long,” Y/N mumbled as they met in the middle, knuckling tiredly at her eyes. A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken a shower hours prior. Her back had been aching since then, the pain barely bearable for her stature, causing a crease in between his brows.

+ A LETTER TO THE MAN I’VE LOVED

the one where harry receives a letter from y/n

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

+ UNWAVERING (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

the one where harry cheats (another version of ‘a cheat’)

"I-I'm in a bit of a rush, baby.” He took a step back, increasing the distance between them. "I have a meeting today. Lots of work to be done," Harry responded his tone suggesting that he didn’t want to talk anymore. Y/N nodded to please him.

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her at the back burner of his mind.

"I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

+ ALL I ASK

the one where feelings aren’t mutual and hearts are broken

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren't. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

* LITTLE PRINCE

the one where harry and y/n are 7-year olds

Harry gasped in horror, crouching to his knees and getting his knee dirty beside the girl.

"Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn't mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?" Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

RENEGADE

the one where y/n teaches harry the ‘renegade’ dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath.

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker.

DROP THE TOWEL (m)

the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

“Hey, babe,” He greeted, walking closer to you in a towel that made him feel liberated. You hummed in a silent greeting, giving him a smile before doing a double-take at his appearance. He dropped the towel on the floor, his length hanging proudly between his legs.

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry,” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

DREAM WITH ME (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

the one where y/n has trouble falling asleep

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black.

DIGRESS (1) PROGRESS (2) REGRESS (3)

the one where love fails

What happens when love fades away? How do you cope with the feelings disappearing slowly like a blot of dark blue paint diluting with every stroke of a ruffled paintbrush? Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

ROUTINE (1) (the first part will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus. following parts will be patron-exclusive content)

the one where harry is a camboy

In a blink of an eye, Harry’s toned body was showcased on the screen, allowing him to view what his viewers had the pleasure of seeing. The ‘LIVE’ sign blinked repeatedly.

“Hello,” Harry drawled out purposefully using a deeper tone to set the mood. “How are you today?” His fingers stayed hung over the armchair, griping it slightly when comments started rolling in.

NOTES ON CAMP (1) (2) (3) (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

Y/N plastered a smile on her face as she shook Belle’s hand. “Sorry but I need to steal Harry away,” Belle tugged on his tattooed arm, fingers clasping around his wrists as he started walking along with her. “See you, Y/N!” Harry greeted, turning around with his arm draped over Belle’s shoulder.

“See you,” She whispered under her breath, looking at his retreating figure towards the cafeteria. Y/N couldn’t help the disappointment she felt, her shoulders slouching at the realization that it was too good to be true. Of course, he had a girlfriend. A gentleman with chiselled features and a caring personality complimenting her? No way. Still, she wasn’t too sad about it. It wasn’t like they’ve known each other for long. Plus, they were co-workers! It would feel wrong to start a relationship anyway.

STRESSED OUT

the one where y/n is stressed and harry wants her to take a break

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Harry physically pulled his chest back. He felt like he had been shot. He knew she didn’t mean it though, but it still hurt to hear, “O-oh. I didn't know y-you felt that way,”

She continued, “You don’t know what it’s like having to spend hours researching so you don’t get anything wrong. Sleepless nights to perfect one paragraph that my professor nitpicks to the bone,” Y/N penned a few words on her notebook, not noticing the pout plastered on Harry’s face.

DESSERT

the one where harry wants something else

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

PET NAME

the one bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name

“Am I, Harry? Seems like you’re putting me at the back burner nowadays,”

He was speechless; had he? Harry didn’t mean to make her feel this way but he wasn’t aware that he was actively blowing her off for Ruby. And why won’t she call him ‘honey’? That was his nickname, wasn’t it? H stood for Harry but it was also the pet name Y/N had given him.

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself--golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

ROOMMATES SERIES (3) (4) (5) (6)

the one where harry and y/n are roommates

updates every 2 weeks!

will not be posted on Tumblr until the series is finished

Y/N gasped at Harry’s proximity, lids snapping open with her hand reaching over to pat along until she found her phone which was blaring with an alarm that she had set. Harry gulped, eyes wide as his mind ran through what the hell just happened.

“What are you doing here? Get out!” She yelled, tugging the sheets higher on her body.

“I-I was just waking you up so you can make us dinner,” Harry stuttered out, his excuse sounding lame but he patted himself on the shoulder for making it up on the spot. Well, that was his intention in the first place until he got distracted.

FRIENDS DON’T MINI-SERIES (1) (2) (3)

“Is this okay?” Her doe irises searched his. Harry raised his head lazily to make eye contact, nodding his head with a bit lip. Y/N clenched her inner thighs together at his already blissed-out state, his pupils slowly becoming larger with arousal. “Friends don’t touch each other this way,” She purposefully drew out her statement, giving Harry an out of the situation if he needed to.

“More than okay,”

FIC EXTRAS #1 - TEASE

the one before ‘under the table’

“Fuckin’ dirty,” He spat, the pads of his thumb tracing circles on her hipbones, not feeling a trace of clothing resting on her hips. “Wearin’ a short dress with no panties,”

Y/N hummed, arms slanting behind her to support her upper body so that she could spread her legs further, making room for Harry’s hand. “Didn’t feel like it,”

“Y’just waiting for me to find out, hmm? You knew I couldn’t resist myself when you look so goddamn pretty,”

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #1

the one with fratboy!harry

“Y’alright?” Harry’s husky breath barely made its way to her ears, only then did Y/N feel the hand palming her lower back, another one gripped around her shoulders. Her front flushed against his own, feeling his hard chest on her heaving ones. She peeked one eye open, looking around at her angled stance, then to Harry who wore a concerned look scanning her face. Y/N nodded in response, blinking rapidly, her nipples hardening at a sudden cold breeze beneath the thin fabric of her dress, surely poking him through his shirt. She blushed at the thought and his brief glance over her where they touched, his eyes dilating the tiniest amount.

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #2

the one where harry’s a cheating asshole

Harry wormed his way through his delectable voice and his ever-present words that somehow scorched your shield to the ground. Again. He promised never to do it again and your love-sick heart trusted him. Again.

But your trust wasn’t something that was particularly valuable to him. To Harry, it would always be there, lingering like the stars in the night sky; always present, always gleaming. Harry was very sorry for what he was doing to you. It was ironic, really; he hoped and prayed every day that you wouldn’t find out but his carelessness left everything out in the open.

TEXT MESSAGES #1

the one where y/n has silly thoughts

TEXT MESSAGES #2

the one where harry and y/n share the same class

#harry styles one shot #harry styles #masterlist #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #patreon exclusive #harry styles smut

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wreckofawriter · 5 years

Text

Pencil Sketches

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader

Warnings: Ummm none fluffy

Word Count: 2,738

Summary: You start receiving sketches of yourself and find out who the artist is in a very surprising way.

A/n: Hi this is my first Cedric fic. I dont exactly love it buuuut whatever.

You remember when it all started. It was four months ago. You had just had a particularly hard day, you were late to Charms and got 5 points taken from your house, you spilled ink all over your positions essay, you got pumpkin juice on your blouse and forgot about a very difficult quiz in DADA. You were heading to the back of the library to choose a book when something fell out of the large amounts of papers you were holding. You groaned bending down to pick it up as you did you glance at the contents of the page and your heart stopped.

It took you only a second to figure out what was on the paper. It was you. You were glaring down at a notebook, your eyes appearing to shine as you clutched a quill in your right hand. Your hair hanging in front of your frustrated face, your lips drawn into a thin line. It was the best drawing you had ever seen, for a second you thought it was a photograph. But it was a drawing, a drawing of you, a drawing of you that looked so realistic it almost scared you. The pencil marks were flowing yet sharp, shading was done in just the right places to give your face depth. It was like looking in a black and white mirror.

You stood in the middle of the hallway for what must have been a good five minutes just staring at the photo in amazement. You then realized what you were doing and continued to the library.

From there the drawings became a normal part of your life. You would usually receive five to six a week in your bag, waiting at your desk or even in your dorm room. You had no idea how they managed to swing that. Each one was more beautiful than the last and you swear that they made you look much prettier in the drawing than you really were. Most were done in pencil a few in quill and one in charcoal. Each one seemed to be a different mood, sometimes you would be scowling, sometimes smirking, sometimes smiling and one was even of you with your head down on a desk your eyes closed and your hair hanging in your face. The ones you received the most were ones of you laughing. Your lips split open in a smile and your eyes crinkled or just shut altogether.

Many times you had tried to find the artist who had drawn you without luck. They never left any notes or indications and it made it extremely difficult to find the culprit. You wished for nothing more than to meet and thank the person who had brought so much happiness into your life with their artwork. But they never revealed themselves even after four months, nothing. You began to worry, what if they never revealed themselves? It was your last year after all, you would be leaving in a few months. Eventually, you stopped looking and simply hoped they would reveal themselves.

“Ms. Y/l/n,” McGonagall called to you.

“Yes, Professor?” You asked your arms full of books as you made your way back to your common room.

“Could you please follow me? I have something we need to discuss.” She clipped, beckoning for you to follow her.

Your eyebrows scrunched together in momentary confusion before following the orders you had been given.

As you followed McGonagall through the castle you wracked your brain for what you could have possibly done wrong. Did they think you cheated on an exam? Did they find your stash of food in your dorm? Surely that wasn't that big of a deal. Then you remembered the bottle of firewhiskey under your bed and fear rose in your throat. What if they expelled you? What would you do? Your heart pounding you were lead into a room expecting all of hell to rain upon you, but when it opened you were greeted by Dumbledore's warm smile.

“Ahh Y/n, looks as if the last of you have arrived.”

You glanced around the room and easily recognized two-thirds of the famous fourth-year trio and a young girl you didn't recognize.

McGonagall went to talk to Dumbledore as you made your way over to Ron and Hermione.

“Umm do you guys know what going on?” You asked as you approached them.

“Not a clue,” Hermione responded with as she glanced around the room as if looking for clues on their current situation.

“Are we in trouble or something?” You inquired.

Ron snorted, “As if Hermione would ever get in trouble.” he jeered earning a glare from the bushy-haired girl.

“I think it has something to do with the next task.” Hermione guessed.

“Then why am I here?” you wondered.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer but she was cut off by Dumbledore.

“I assume all of you are wondering what is happening, well as Mrs. Granger pointed out it does have something to do with the task tomorrow.”

Everyone else seemed very excited you, on the other hand, were very confused, what did the next task have to do with you?

“Tomorrow morning your friends are going to have to rescue something of great importance to them from the bottom of the black lake. You, my friends, are those things.”

Hermione gasped. Ron raised both his eyebrows and the girl seemed a bit frightened.

“You will be put under a spell and not remember a thing until you break the surface again. I promise all of you will be fine. So if you could just take som-”

“Umm excuse me?” You asked cutting off your professor, “Why am I here?” His eyebrows raised in confusion. “I mean I get the whole rescuing someone that is important to them thing, I mean Hermione for Krum.” Hermione flashed red and Ron rolled his eyes. “Ron for Harry and I guessing she's Fleur’s little sister or something?” You said gesturing to the young girl, “I just don't get why I'm here.”

Now Dumbledore's face was filled with amusement, a small smile on his lips. “You don't know?” he asked.

“Know what?”

He started to laugh, “For such a bright girl I expected you had already found out.”

You were beginning to feel stupid, “Found out what?”

“Have you been receiving drawings for the past few months?” He mused glancing at Mcgonagall who also seemed amused.

“Y-yeah, wait how do you know about those?”

“It's impossible to miss,” Mcgonagall said sweetly, “Cedric is constantly pouring over as sketchbook in his classes, particularly the ones you are in, Ms. Y/l/n.”

You heard Hermione let out a giggle as your face flashed a brilliant red. Your head was spinning. Cedric was the one who was giving those to you? The golden boy of Hogwarts was spending his time sketching you?

“Cedric is the one drawing me?” You managed to get from your mouth, the sentence came out squeaker than you would have liked but at least you managed it.

“Yes Y/n, I'm quite surprised you hadn't noticed the boys admiration in you.” Dumbledore smiled as your eyes got impossibly bigger and your stomach began to fill with butterflies. “Now we don't want to waste much more time." He sighed, “Take some of this, it will put you straight to sleep, although I must warn you it tastes terrible.” He passed each of you a bottle full of a deep purple liquid.

You downed it quickly and almost immediately your world grew dark.

Cedric had grown exceedingly nervous as he stood on the docks in the middle of the lake. While the others around him seemed to be scared of what lurked in the dark of the lake he was concerned at where you were. He hadn’t seen you at breakfast, where he was planning to slip his newest drawing into your bag and now he couldn't find you here either. What if you were sick? Where you ok? Had you gotten hurt? He silently shamed himself for caring so much for a person who didn't even know he existed but he couldn't help it. He had tried to stop caring about you, but fate seemed to work against him as all he could do was see you no matter where he looked. It was as if you had been placed behind a glass case in a bakery, with a price tag much too high. So all he could do was look and wonder how your lips would taste against his own.

Finally, he gave up looking for you and looked at the challenge ahead of him. If you weren't here he wanted to make sure you heard from everyone else how he had won. Determination took over his features, he had a plan and he just hoped the others were less prepared than he. Just then the horn was blown and he dove into the water quickly casting a bubble charm around his head and begging to swim into the depths of the lake. He quickly located the singing he remembered form the terrible egg he had gotten and swum toward it. He almost choked when he saw what was waiting for him. You. Your ankles were tied with rope and your beautiful y/e/c eyes resting closed as your y/h/c hair floating in the water. The others tied around you suddenly meant nothing as he stared at you. He thought you resembled an angel floating in the water, all you were missing were wings. He then remembered he was in composition and swam towards you at a quickened rate. He thought for a minute, inspecting the rope holding you before muttering a spell. As the bounds broke he snatched you and began to swim upwards. He then saw Harry come into view, he nodded at him and continued upward.

Your eyes popped open and you found yourself gasping for air as you coughed up water. The first thing you noticed was how cold you were, everything thing was cold except an arm swimming you towards the dock. You looked up to see Cedric dragging you towards the dock his face full of worry. He glanced over at you and smiled and blushed.

“Are you alright?” He asked over the cheering of the crowd. You nodded still coughing.

When you reached the ladder you were helped up and quickly wrapped in a wool blanket as you continued coughing tiring to get the water out of your system, finally you were able to intake air and breathe normally and you saw that you were on a dock in the middle of the lake but you could hardly see anything over the crowd of people swarming you, well more swarming Cedric. You then realized that Cedric had his arm securely wrapped around you as he maneuvered you through the crowds and your face flushed red. Cedric led you to an empty bench overlooking the lake on the platform getting congratulated all the way. When you sat down he pulled you close to him in attempts to warm your shivering your form. You instantly leaned into his warm body, looking up at him to meet his grey eyes. He blushed bright red and looked away from you. Just then the crowd erupted into cheers and you looked up to see Krum emerge, Hermione, gasping for breath as she appeared to shriek a bit at his shark head before he quickly changed back.

“I hope Harry’s alright.” You murmured as you peered into the water.

“I'm sure he's fine, I saw him when I was getting you.” Cedric blushed a bit when he mentioned you.

“Did you see Krum?”

“Uhh no, I didn't,” Cedric answered.

“Why is he up here before him?” You questioned worriedly, your eyes scanned for the young boy in the water. You didn't know Harry well but you wished for no harm to come to him.

“I don't know.” Cedric seemed just as confused as you.

You both waited for Harry to show up as the minutes ticked down. Then suddenly you gasped. In all the excitement you had completely forgotten that Cedric was revealed as the mysterious artist.

“What is it?” The grey-eyed boy asked you.

You turned and looked at him. There was no denying that he was absolutely stunning. He was beyond handsome with his sharp features and kind eyes. You saw him blush a bit as you took in his profile, which only made him more attractive. But not only was he gorgeous he was amazingly kind, talented and smart. You opened your mouth to confess your knowledge on the portraits he had drawn of you. But you were interrupted by shouting and yelling and you both turned away from each other to see Harry emerging from the water, with not only Ron, but the young blonde haired girl as well. You sighed in relief and looked back at Cedric who was already staring at you. He blushed for the 1000th time when you met his grey orbs and looked away again. Then he turned back to look at you with something new in his eyes, determination.

“Hey Y/n I need to tell you something.” He said his voice a bit louder than it had been before.

“Sure what's up?” You asked.

“You probably have already realized this but clearly you mean a lot to me, I mean with the whole rescuing you think that was probably obvious but umm,” He paused then continued, “Imtheonewhosebeengivingyouthedrawings” He said quickly his face burning a deep shade of crimson.

If you had not already known what he was going to say you would have been thoroughly confused, but because of your recent discoverings, you had managed to gather about what he said.

“I know.” You answered simply.

“Oh ok- wait, WHAT?” He said his eyes wide his face getting impossibly redder.

You giggled rolling your eyes playfully.

“For how long?” he gasped.

“Umm, it's almost noon so about, I'll say 14 hours?” You guessed.

He blinked rapidly then smacked his forehead with his hand. “Of course you know, they probably told you before they put you in the lake.” He said clearly feeling very stupid.

“They're amazing by the way.” You complemented, “Although I'm pretty sure you make me look much better in the drawings than I am in person.” You giggled.

He looked at you and scoffed, “Are you kidding.” He murmured running his thumb along your jawline. “The most talented artist in the world couldn’t do your beauty justice.”

You flashed a deep red as you felt your stomach erupt with butterflies once more. You bit your lip, the exact place his eyes lingered.

He leaned in millimeters from your lips, “May I kiss you?” He asked his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

You simply closed the space between the two of you in an answer. His lips were warm against your cool ones and your hands found your way to his damp hair. The kiss was sweet and passionate, his lips moved slowly against your own making you swoon. As you pulled away you were for the second time in the past hour gasping for air.

“I have something for you.” He whispered turning to grab a bag next to him. He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to you.

You couldn't help the small smile on your face as he looked at his newest drawing. You had your head thrown back your eyes closed and a smile wide on your face, it was clear you were laughing.

“I always loved drawing you laughing.” He said shyly.

“I still don't understand how you are so good.” You said in amazement.

“Thanks.” He blushed

“No, thank you. Thank you so much for all of these. They made my day so much better.” You said, “Just looking at them made me happy.”

Now as you looked at them you felt your world fall apart. Sobs wrecked your body as you stared at the drawings you had saved. You couldn't think, your head throbbed and you felt like you were falling into a deep dark pit but you could never hit the bottom. Your tears soaked the picture of you with your head thrown back in laughter and you were sure you would never laugh again.

Masterlist

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jaeminlore · 4 years

Text

I’ll Be Home For Christmas | Jaehyun

summary: you can count on me

words: 2.2k+

category: jaehyun x gender neutral reader unless i slipped up, in which pls tell me so i can fix it, coworker au, fake dating au, fluff, jaehyun wears sweaters, pillow fights, mistletoe (but not in the way you’d expect), jaehyun sees reader holding a baby and short circuits, this is the softest thing i’ve ever written and i’m proud of it

warning(s): christmas is explicitly mentioned as opposed to any other holiday, this is based off of a more southern/american style christmas that i’m used to, some drinking but no one gets drunk

When your co-worker, Jaehyun, approaches you a day before winter break, you think little of it. The two of you are the only teachers in the school less than forty years old, so you often hang out together.

You figure he'll wish you a gentle happy holidays in that soft voice of his, and be on his way.

Instead, he looks nervous, wringing his beanie through his fingers. "Heading out?"

"Yeah," you sigh. "Two full weeks of no pay, and all of my family has planned a Christmas in the Bahamas without me."

Jaehyun whistles lowly. "That sounds a bit..."

"Sad?" you stuff your books into your box. "Yeah, but it's whatever. I'll find something to do."

"You could come home with me," Jaehyun says. "I mean, my family thought I was bringing a significant other anyway, so it kind of works out."

"Huh?" You glance up at the fellow teacher in his stupid teddy bear cardigan. It makes him look soft and cozy. "What works out?"

"I need you to pretend to be dating me during break."

"Why?" you ask. The only reason you aren't more surprised is the fact that Jaehyun is always using weird anecdotes to get out of things, and you assume this is nothing different.

"Like I said, my parents think I'm bring home a significant other."

"Why don't you just tell them you don't have one?" you ask.

Jaehyun pokes at the miniature globe on your desk. "If I told them that, they'd try to hook me up with one of their picks. Listen, when I lied to them, I didn't think they'd insist I bring my significant other to family functions."

"That's kind of what happens when you're dating someone," you say. "Anyways, so what? I pretend to be dating you, and in return I get free food and board for the holidays?"

"My mom will buy you a present," Jaehyun adds on.

You hand Jaehyun your box of things you have to take home during break. "Here. Carry this to my car, and you have a deal."

(It's only on the way to his parent's house when you realize that you might have to buy all of his family presents, too. When you voice these concerns to Jaehyun, he reaches over the console and pats your knee. "Not to worry. I just put our names on everything.")

Jaehyun's mother's hugs are a lot like Jaehyun's. She squeezes you tightly, as if she's a boa constrictor and you are merely the innocent prey.

Jaehyun doesn't save you either, he just giggles at your disheveled appearance and fixes your hair. "Mom likes hugs."

"Oh, so do you," Mrs. Jung swats at Jaehyun's arm. "Anyways, tell me about the two of you."

"Oh!" You clear your throat and move closer to Jaehyun. You actually have no idea what he's told them about you, and you also didn't make up a cover story, so you're a bit out of luck.

Luckily, Jaehyun lies like a politician. He wraps his arm around your waist and laughs. It's fake, you know, but his mom seems to believe it. "We're at the same school, mom. I've told you about Y/n before."

"Oh! The third grade teacher?" Mrs. Jung finally makes the connection. She turns to you. "He used to gush about you all the time. I never realized you're the one he asked out."

Jaehyun's grip on you tightens just briefly, so you figure Mrs. Jung has said just a bit too much. Still, you have to play into the facade, so you lean into him. "I gushed about him a fair bit, too. And then one night I asked him out, and he said yes."

"Oh, you asked him out?" Mrs. Jung's eyes sparkle with interest. She has the same adorable dimples as her son.

"Only because he was too cowardly to do anything about his massive crush on me."

Jaehyun snorts. "Yeah, right. We both know I'm braver than you."

You turn to face him, eyes narrowed as he steels you with his cocky gaze. "Oh yeah?" You say, eyes drifting down to his lips, curled into an attractive smirk. "Prove it."

You see the moment Jaehyun short circuits. You see it as clear as day, the way he loosens his grip and opens his mouth, but no words come out.

His mom snickers. "I think Y/n is braver, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun can only sulk as he shows you to his room.

Mrs. Jung told you to take a nap to recover from the traveling, since the actually holiday festivities don't begin until everyone arrives tomorrow. Since you and Jaehyun are early, you get the privilege of extra sleep.

Jaehyun eyes his full-sized bed from his college days. His room is now a guest room, since he hasn't lived at home in years. But it's still got traces of him in it, like the baseball trophies from college (you try not to think of Jaehyun in a baseball uniform), or his high school diploma framed over the bathroom door.

You pull back the green-striped sheets. "I am not going to disobey your mom. I'm going to sleep."

"Ditto," Jaehyun says. He heads over to the window and drops the drapes so that the room is coated in darkness despite the afternoon sun still outside. "I'll take the floor."

"Why?" You ask, and you're already burrowed under his covers in your lounge-wear.

Jaehyun's eyes drop to your thin tank top before he looks away. His ears are a suspicious shade of pink. "I mean... wouldn't it be weird to share a bed?"

"Are you going to pull a move on me while I'm trying to sleep?" Your blunt question sends Jaehyun into a fit of coughing, which causes you to laugh out loud.

He glares at you and shuffles over to the other side of his bed. "I hate you."

"You can't hate me; you're my boyfriend," you mock.

Jaehyun tackles you then, covering your body with his own as you giggle in shock. "You're so annoying. I should've taken someone else."

"Right," you fight back, grabbing his arms and pushing him up until he's just straddling your waist, holding onto your hands. "Who would you ask? Meredith, the secretary?"

"Her red hair is pretty sexy," Jaehyun says as if HES thought about it before."

"She's like, fifty," you laugh.

"Or Taeyong from high school math," Jaehyun says. "He's cute."

"Honestly? Yeah." You let go of his hands and glance up at the ceiling. "If Taeyong had asked me, this entire day would've gone so differently."

"Oh, shut up," Jaehyun grabs his pillow and gently shoves you with it. "You can't even look him in the eyes."

"Neither can you!" You protest, voice muffled beneath his pillow.

"It's not my fault he's cute!"

"It's not my fault either!"

Jaehyun lifts the pillow and raises his eyebrows at you, causing you to laugh.

"Are we arguing over Taeyong from high school math?"

"Who doesn't even know we exist?" Jaehyun answers. "Yes, I do believe we are."

"You're heavy," you grunt. You attempt to push Jaehyun off of you, but in seeing your discomfort, it only spurs him to place his full dead weight on top of you.

"Goodnight," he says, voice right beside your ear.

You know he's teasing you, because the two of you are pretty close and it's not weird. Still, you can't help but like the feeling of him being so close to you, even if it isn't as intimate as you'd like.

You sigh; give up. "Goodnight, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun's family is wild. His uncle (from England, apparently) brings stories about his weekly bar crawls. He also brings Christmas crackers, and you and Jaehyun steal a few extra when no one is looking, if just to get a few extra goodies.

And so explains the paper crown atop Jaehyun's head, nestled within his chocolate curls.

He looks adorable as always, but more radiantly so, and you wonder if it's his family that brings this out in him, or the mulled wine.

I want to kiss him, you think, and it's not the thought that scares you. He's an attractive man, and it's been bound to cross your every now and again.

What scares you is the thought that comes after. I could fall in love with him.

And you really aren't sure if it's the wine in your own belly, or the disorienting sound of Mrs. Jung's staticky radio, playing a distorted version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

However, Jaehyun has been holding your hand the entire day, absentminded rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. It shouldn't make your heart beat faster because it's all a show, but you find yourself playing into the facade, if just to make it last a little longer.

Jaehyun and you are sharing an armchair while the children beg the adults to let them open their gifts already. You've got your head on Jaehyun's chest, and he's covering you with a gaudy reindeer-themed blanket.

It's then when the door opens, and a woman and man walk in, the man holding a baby in his arms.

"Jina!" Jaehyun shouts. "Henry! Erin!" Then he whispers to you. "That's my sister and her husband. And their little baby," he says softly.

Erin is around one or two years old, and she seems in good spirits despite the bow tightly clipped to what little hair she has.

You get up so Jaehyun can hug his sister, and when she sees you, she gives you a hug as well. "You're the Y/n Jaehyun has told me so much about."

Jaehyun's ears go red again, and he ignores Jina's statement in lue of showing her to the presents around the tree. "Thank God you're finally here. I think the kids were going to riot if they couldn't open any presents yet."

Jaehyun settles back down with you, and you remind yourself to ask him why his family seem to already know about you.

But then the kids open whoopee cushions from Uncle Jaehyun, and all is forgotten as they begin to force everyone to sit on top of them.

Jaehyun truly thinks he's going to go insane. In retrospect, perhaps asking the person he's had a year-long crush on to be his fake date wasn't the best idea, but it was his only option.

And now he likes you even more, as you make an effort to get to know his family.

You don't have to, but you're wearing the sweater his mom bought for you, and you've got a stupid paper crown on your head that perfectly matches his.

And when Jaehyun rounds the counter to make some hit chocolate for the two of you, he watches you approach his brother-in-law and ask to hold baby Erin.

And now Jaehyun is truly going crazy, because you've got a baby on your hip and you're dancing to the staticky radio, singing in goofy voices with Jaehyun's younger cousins.

And he knows, knows he's in love with you.

He hopes to God this isn't a one time thing.

Your head feels a bit fuzzy when everyone is sent off to bed.

Jaehyun grabs your hand and pulls you into his room. "Come on. Anyone who survives a day with my family deserves a prize."

You're not sure where he had hidden it, but Jaehyun grabs a small wrapped box and hands it to you. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," you say, a bit distracted as you open it.

Inside, it's a small charm bracelet. The charm? Mistletoe.

You snort, and pull the bracelet over your wrist. "How subtle, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun's ears are red again. "Actually, I was just teaching my kids about mistletoe. The druids believed it had healing properties, and could bring the holder good luck—"

You wrap your arms around Jaehyun's shoulders and lift your hand above his head. You kiss Jaehyun before he's finished talking.

He gasps against your lips in such an innocent way that you have to wonder if he actually didn't mean to give it to you as incentive. Before you can worry, however, he's got his hands bunched in the sweater his mother bought you, and he's pulling you flush against his body.

His lips are soft and warm, and they taste like cinnamon. Every touch he gives you sends a lick of fire across your skin, and it's only when Jaehyun puts his hands beneath your sweater that you realize just how cold his hands are.

You shiver against him. He nips at your lips, smiling at your offended gasp. He moves away, places one kiss atop your forehead, and then presses his forehead to yours. "I didn't give you the mistletoe so you would kiss me, but I'm glad you did."

"Me too," you say, warmth flooding your chest again. "Now, how about you explain to me why your family keeps saying you've talked about me before."

"Actually," Jaehyun moves away from you. "I'm pretty tired, so we should just get to bed."

You tackle him again, laughing with mirth when he catches you and hugs you close to him. "I've liked you for awhile, okay?" he says.

"Now was that so hard to say?" you tease, just before receiving another pillow to your face.

#nct au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct scenario #jaehyun au #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun scenarios #destwrites

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grouptalekindnesssoul · 3 years

Text

Run Boy Run

@ratherstarryeyed Here’s your gift! :D I hope you enjoy. @sanderssidesgiftxchange thanks for arranging this

(I promise Patton does not play a huge role. He becomes a background character very quickly)

Summary: Janus was the crown Prince, until a charismatic group of pirates swooped in and stole him away. Featuring mentioned gay pining!

Warnings: Swears, Unsympathetic Patton, I switch names halfway.

“Prince Damian, you must get up. Your betrothed will be here in an hour” A servant tugged at the prince’s prone form.

“Then tell her, I am not interested” The prince groaned, rolling out of reach. The servant wouldn’t be deterred however, and continued to yank on his arm. Instead of giving in however, the prince buried himself deeper.

“Crown Prince Damian Eric Stephan Layor you will get yourself up immediately” An growly voice rang out

“And what if I don’t want to, father” Damian didn’t move an inch. King Patton was not used to people disobeying him. In fact, it was downright impossible to go against him. However, his son was firmly against the marriage. And it was placing strains on the relations between the two kingdoms.

“Young man, you will get up, or I will drag you downstairs and forcibly shove you into your suit” The King’s voice went deathly quiet. However, Damian was completely done with it and went limp to make it difficult to move him. The king made true on his promise however, and had his guards drag the 18 year old out of bed and down the stairs. The suit was carefully unsewn and resewn around the prince’s body by the tailor’s magic.

“Damian, stay low, and stay still” Remy briefly dropped xir shades. Damian nodded, trusting xem without a second thought. Never did xe drop xer shades. Something was wrong. Resigned to his fate, Damian walked under his own power to the meeting room. The king was nowhere to be found, though some of the more important advisors were already there. Damian sat in his marked seat, still as a statue as a crown was dropped on his head.

“Now, with Princ-” The chief advisor began, moving opposite Damian. Before he could get more than that, a window shattered inwards. Damian froze, lowering himself to be a smaller target. A group of people jumped in, surrounding the table. The one who appeared to be the leader stood behind Damian.

“Now, I’d tell you to drop yer weapons, butcha already have” A lazy voice began from somewhere to the prince’s right.

“Hand over your valuables, and tell us the location of your king, and we’ll spare you” A clipped formal voice came from the left. Damian made note of the educated nature of the vocabulary. Before any of them could do much else, the door began to shake and loud voices echoed from outside of it.

“Grab what you can and scram!” Another voice burst out. Damian couldn’t tell from where in the commotion.

“Get me out of here. I’m the crown prince and you can ransom me” Damian twisted immediately to grab what he judged to be the leader’s arm. The man looked conflicted before scooping him up and running for the window again. There was a feeling of weightlessness as the man carried Damian away.

_____

The group fell to the deck panting as their ship pulled away from shore. Damian stared at the boards beneath him, wondering why he decided to pipe up. He didn’t regret his decision exactly, but he questioned it.

“What’s your name kid?” A voice cut into his internal crisis. He turned to see the captain of the ship.

“De-Janus. My name is Janus” Damian nodded to himself.

“I’m Thomas. Welcome aboard the Sides Sailing, my ship” The man smiled, nodding as he helped Janus up.

“Are you really the prince?” The formal figure drew himself up, adjusting round glasses.

“...I am. But I don’t want to be” Janus rubbed his head awkwardly.

“Well then, you’ll fit in just fine,” Thomas said, clapping a hand on Janus’s shoulder.

“I am Logan” The bespectacled man supplied, offering a bow.

“Roman. And Virgil is over there with the half shaved head, Emile is the other glasses-wearing fool, and-” Janus’s rescuer began to point out people.

“Ro, they can introduce themselves” Thomas scolded, kicking the darker man. Roman, as the rescuer had been crowned, ducked his head. A deep chuckle betrayed his complete lack of shame to Janus.

“Unfortunately, that leaves only me” The last unidentified person added, a quiet chuckle alongside their introduction. “I’m Delphine, only one on this ship who actively breaks rules”

“Del!” The tallest of the group (Virgil as Janus recalled) swatted at the disappearing figure.

“Anyways, my pronouns currently are they/she. Emile is they/them. Thomas, Ro, and Virgil are he/him, and Lo is ae/aer” Delphine was back, leaning over Janus’s shoulder from a rope. They cackled at the jerk he gave.

“A-anyways, what do you guys do?” Janus asked self-consciously as the gremlin climbed up the rope.

“Mostly trading. The trinkets will sell for massive amounts, if only to the palace staff. If you want, you can join us? We could use someone else of note” Thomas rubbed his neck, shifting feet as the wind caught in the sails. There was a grunt from Delphine, as she leaned down to tug one of the ropes on the port side.

“Let me stay. I don’t want to be crown prince and I can...you can sell my stuff” Janus blurted out.

“Oh, we figured you would stay. None of us doubted it after the name switch, and how you addressed your title” Logan commented, aer hands adjusting aer outfit.

“You can borrow some of my stuff. We appear to be about the same size” Del piped up, taking Emile’s offered hand up from where they were hanging off the ship.

“....Is She always like that?” Janus asked in disbelief.

“Usually. But you get used to it after a while” The rich voice of Roman came from Janus’s blind side. When the (former) prince startled, Roman’s muscled arms were there and his eyes casting concerned sweeps of the other man.

“S-sorry. I just had an accident that left me blind and deaf in that side of my face” Janus started, offering a weak smile.

“Let me look at that, you could have suffered damage on that side of your face” Emile finally spoke up, their hands already wrapping around the arm of Janus’s shirt.

“They are our medic. You’ll be okay” Logan soothed the Prince.

“Okay. Thanks” Janus said, relaxing slightly at the gentle guiding of the unarmed person.

“Delphine, go get some of your clothes. Better to get the exact adjustments needed started” Thomas ordered, and they ducked into somewhere that Janus couldn’t see as he was brought below deck.

___

A few weeks later found Janus settled among the crewmates. He figured out that Virgil and Emile were a couple, while Thomas and Logan considered themselves the unofficial parents of the group. Thomas constantly joked how they were aro/ace solidarity. Delphine was an enigma and Roman seemed to have his eyes on someone else.

“Del, you’re the expert. What should I do?” Janus heard Roman talking from Delphine’s workspace, high up off the ground where a hammock was nestled among the various ropes late one day.

“Ro, I am hardly an expert. But I say, ask him out. Worst comes to worst you say it was a new crush and easily dismissed” The distracted voice of the teen answered after a beat.

“Yea, but like pocket protector he’s used to finer things. And the pair of us...if I were ever to retire I would have little. I can’t do it to him” Janus’s heart stopped. ‘Pocket Protector’ was Logan. Could it be that Ro liked aer? It would make sense, with the fact that they had known each other a while.

“Get out of here if you’re gonna be a hopeless gay romantic” There was a thud and a yelp of pain as Roman came crashing down to the deck.

“Quit fighting on my ship!” Thomas’s voice echoed from below.

“No promises~” The aloft person hummed. A few moments later a shirt fluttered down onto Ro’s head. “Take that to JayJay. He needs another shirt after he ripped through my other one. Those clothes better buy me more fabric as well as food and water”

“No promises” Roman mocked, climbing to his feet. Janus began to duck behind the door. Unfortunately for him, the movement attracted Ro’s attention.

“Oh, hey Janus. Perfect timing, Del just finished a new shirt for you” Roman offered the shirt.

“Oh, Thanks. Uh, what was that crash?” Janus squeaked in attempted nonchalant chatter.

“Del literally kicking off her little space” Roman shrugged, brushing past closer than necessary. The muscles made Janus burst out in blush. A sudden jerk sent both men to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“I am going to murder whoever is responsible for this shit. Thomas, get your ass up here! We have a problem” Del roared, and the captain appeared out of thin air.

“What is- not today. Can you help us escape” Thomas glanced over to the smoky port side. His face paled as he peered through the smoke.

“No promises! Haven’t used the engine in a while and it looks like they took out a piece of the sail” Delphine was busy tugging on a line that had suddenly appeared from the base of the sail. Ae reached up to pull a few of the ropes above aer head to pull the sails around to catch the wind.

“I..should go” Roman mumbled, squeezing Janus’s shoulder.

“Please. Don’t” Janus held tight to the arm, scared. Ro hummed, wrapping it more securely around the man.

“Ro, don’ move. Th’engine may not be able te take it” Del yelled, a blended accent that Janus recognized from the raid he’d been ‘taken’ in.

“Running out of time! It’s now or never!” Thomas bellowed over the whir from another engine. Delphine growled, yanking upwards with all aer might, and leaping into the air in the same motion. The deck buzzed as an engine burst to life, and the ship took off. Janus loosened his grip on Roman, shaking as both of his other crewmates relaxed.

“Thomas, keep it steady. I’m going to do what I can to repair the sail so we can have full maneuverability” Delphine called as Ro murmured soft words into Janus’s curly hair. The rest of the crew appeared, Emile hurrying to check for any wounds while Virgil stuck close with a hand on his knife.

“You can,” Janus tried to steady his voice “go to your crush, if you wish. I will be fine” Ro glanced down, his face split with a look of confusion. Janus cursed his upbringing as he slipped back into his educated voice.

“You heard?”

“I did, and I wish to assure you I am perfectly fine” A disbelieving laugh bounced around Ro.

“We’ll be able to reach the city early tomorrow now that we’re in the air” Logan interrupted. The moment was further interrupted by the slew of curses echoing from the port side. In a feat of acrobatic strength, Del was hanging on the tip of the sail and sewing up the damage.

“Just tell him Ro. We’re tired of you dancing around trying to figure out how” Vee yelled, a fond smile flickering at the corners of his lips.

“Janus, I am already comforting my crush. He is stupidly selfless at times, smart, witty, sarcastic, and an utter annoyance”

“So....Del?”

“No, you stupid fool! He is gayer than the fourth of July!” Del yelled.

“No. It’s you, Janus. Your bravery weeks ago was the first strike. Everything since has snowballed into a horrible crush. And I ge-hmph!” Ro explained. Sensing a self-deprecation, Janus pulled his shirt down and kissed him. There were cheers as they broke apart.

“Does that answer your lil question?” Janus smiled widely, a sappy look in his eyes.

“Y-yea” Roman stuttered, face bright red. Del ruined the moment with further cursing from her project. Ae finally cimbed back on deck and unfurled the sail further. She went to Thomas, whispering something to him. He nodded, clapping aers shoulder. The pair disappeared below deck as Roman and Janus made out. Finally, everyone drifted below deck as the ship tilted itself towards the destination.

The next day, the pulled into port. Logan immediately went ashore, hailing the harbormaster. Janus watched as the crew unloaded things that used to belong to him. It was oddly relieving as it disappeared to the marketplace with Virgil and Emile.

Roman pulled Janus ashore, running to a familiar figure.

“Remy!” Janus called as he recognized the tailor. He immediately hugged xem, a whine coming from his throat.

“Whoa babes! Careful with the goods” Remy patted the man’s head.

“Hey Remy. I believe you’ve met my boyfriend?” Roman said proudly as Janus let go and grabbed Ro’s hand again. Remy whistled, swirling xir cup.

“Don’t hesitate do you? Well congrats Damien”

“It’s...Janus now. I go by Janus”

“Janus! Knew there was a reason I liked you. Now, where can I take my stuff?” Remy waved to a suitcase behind xem.

“My room is yours now. I’m leaving the crew” Del appeared, his face tired. Remy shrugged and hauled the bag towards the ship.

“Wait, you’re leaving us? And Remy..?” Janus caught Del’s arm in his free hand.

“Yea. Remy is one of us. Or, you guys. Xe started sneaking us stolen goods a couple years ago. And, it’s time I depart. Your story has no more need for me” Del reached up to kiss Ro’s cheek as he explained.

“Good luck. I’ll see you around” Del waved as he walked onwards, leaving the Sides Sailing and her crew to their adventures.

#unsympathetic patton #sympathetic janus #sympathetic logan #sympathetic roman #Roceit #sympathetic virgil #c!thomas #ts sides #dr picani #remy/sleep #emile/virgil #aromantic logan #asexual c!thomas

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nalgenewhore · 4 years

Text

Too Late To Turn Back Now - Nine

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

+*+*+*+*+*+*

TW: Mentions of child abuse, PTSD

+*+*+*+*+*+*

She hadn’t had a nightmare in years. At least, not one that would wake her up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat, hot tears pouring down her cheeks.

Elide couldn’t stop the sobs that ripped from her raw throat, utterly terrified as she thrashed to get away from the hands that would hurt her. Her ankle felt like someone was holding a branding iron to it, pressing against her flesh with no reprieve.

Blindly, she reached out, searching for the warm body beside hers, why hadn’t he woken up, but all she felt were cool, if slightly rumpled sheets.

Lorcan had to leave, that badly, in the middle of the night? The whole day before – it had to have meant nothing because he couldn’t stand to sleep in the same bed as her. The thought had her choking, her pathetic cries dying in her throat before she sobbed anew, unable to stop anything, unable to stop the near screams that spilled from her lips, unable to stop feeling like she was drowning, unable to stop the crack of her heart.

Oh gods, she couldn’t breathe.

Nausea grew in her and before she could even think about making it to the bathroom or even the balcony, she sat up and threw up, bile stinging her ravaged throat. She gagged and emptied her stomach again, her eyes watering as she heaved on nothing.

It wasn’t a second longer that the bathroom door slammed open and Lorcan was there, staring for a moment at the scene before he ran to her side and effortlessly picked her up, cradling her against his chest. “Princess, oh my gods, baby girl, fucking hell,” he whispered, his heart thundering.

Elide screamed again, fighting against him. “El, Elide, it’s just me. It’s me.” He had thought she was being murdered. He’d been gone for a minute, just a minute, had left her sleeping peacefully on the bed they shared to use the bathroom.

“Lorcan? Where did you go?” she cried, letting him hold her against his chest, his cheek resting on her forehead.

“I was just in the toilet,” he assured her, cradling the back of her head. “You’re alright, it was a dream, just a dream.”

“I-I th-threw up,” she cried, fighting for a breath of air, snot running from her nose, her eyes filled with unspilled tears. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize,” he shushed her. “Come on, baby, you gotta breathe, in and out.” He pulled air into his lungs through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, watching her imitate him. Lorcan could see in her eyes that she was panicking, desperate for oxygen and the fact that she was apologizing—

Fuck, he didn’t care about the vomit on the bed, didn’t care about anything except her. Elide sniffled once and cried again, shaking in his arms. With barely an effort, Lorcan walked back into the bathroom and filled the bathtub, putting her down on the cool tile.

Elide watched him as he glared at the collection of bath oils and essences and salts as if it had personally and egregiously offended him. “I like cedar,” she whispered, drawing her knees up beneath her chin. “And sandalwood.”

Lorcan was too concentrated to register that those were the scents of his cologne, the one he wore everyday. He nodded, perfunctorily, and dumped them in, then turning to her and taking her hands in his, letting her ground herself to him as he checked over her.

Small and frail, that’s what she looked like. Slowly, Lorcan got a face cloth and held it under the bath tap, wringing it out before carefully tipping her chin back and cleaning her face. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lashes brushing against her red cheeks, tears still slipping from her eyes.

When her face was cleaned, Lorcan got her cup of water, grinning teasingly as she smiled softly and took it with two hands, “Think you can handle some water, Lochan?”

She rolled her eyes and nodded, still sipping carefully though. “Can you get my toothbrush, it’s just… icky.”

Lorcan nodded, half-crouching as he kissed her forehead before getting her toothbrush for her.

He turned off the bath as she brushed her teeth, deeming it to be acceptable. “Bath’s ready, princess.” Elide nodded and stood, holding up her arms as indication for him to undress her.

He did and it was… a lot more natural than he thought it’d be. It was intimate, yes, but not in a sexual way, nothing heated in his movements as he pulled her top off and kneeled in front of her, tugging down her sweats.

Elide delicately stepped out, completely bare under the soft light of the bathroom. Without any hesitation, Lorcan scooped her up and set her down in the water. Before her hair could fall from the barely held-together bun it was in, Lorcan efficiently drew it back for her and clipped it up with the hairclip she’d left on the counter.

His heart was still beating way too fast and he crouched by the side of the bath, running his fingers over her arm. “E.”

She turned her face towards him but kept her eyes half-closed. “Hmm?”

“I’m going to change the sheets, but I’m not leaving, ok? I’m not leaving you.” He needed her to understand that he wouldn’t abandon her, not now, not ever.

That had her opening her eyes fully and looking at him, truly seeing him. “Ok.” It was such a tiny word, so small, but Lorcan knew what she meant. They seemed to just… understand each other. Even before the deportation hanging over their heads, they had a way of silently communicating with each other.

Satisfied, Lorcan stood and even then, left the door open as he stripped the bed and made quick work of putting on new sheets. He checked on her before going to the laundry room.

When he got back, Elide wasn’t asleep, she was too scared for that, but she was barely awake. Her cheeks were rosy pink, her body relaxed as she soaked. Silently, she stood up, grabbed a towel, and dried herself as he got her clothes to change into.

Hers were right there, he could’ve easily gotten them but instead, he grabbed his hoodie and his sweats, walking back in to find her standing on the bathmat. Her skin gleamed in the light and she gave him a small smile as he held up the clothes for her before dressing.

She had to roll down the waistband and roll up the ankles, but she left the hoodie alone, simply flipping the hood over her head. “Can we go outside? I need to…” she trailed off, fear as though he would deny her that simple necessity heavy in her eyes.

Without a second thought, Lorcan was agreeing and picking her up, not even letting her take one step on her own. Elide had no qualms about it and exhaled softly, burying her face in the crook of his neck as her arms wrapped around his neck and she locked her legs around his waist. I love you, she thought, still thinking about how she had said it, but in the coward’s way – in a language he didn’t speak. I love you so much.

He carried her down to the beach, after grabbing the heavy blankets, and set her down just as the grass turned into cool sand. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, hooking her pinky around his.

Lorcan grinned down at her, the tightness in his chest easing just a bit. He had thought that her falling into the arctic ocean had been the scariest thing he’d lived through, but seeing her so scared, completely detached as she sobbed and screamed, thrashing away from whatever visions she was having, straining away from him, made fear sink into his skin far worse than anything before.

She began to walk along the sand and he just stayed there, keeping an eye on her as she bent to collect something or dipped her toe in the cold water. Eventually, long after he’d sat down and wrapped a blanket around himself, Elide wandered back to him, a collection of finds cradled in her hands. She looked so proud of herself as she kneeled in front of him and spread them out on the other thick blanket, silently combing through them. “I just want one.”

He didn’t question why she only wanted one, didn’t question why they were all shades of black, didn’t question as she held up a piece of sea glass to his eyes and nodded once to herself, tossing everything else away. He didn’t ask her anything – he was just there. As steady and always as the waves that crashed gently against the shore.

Then, when Elide was curled up between his legs, her back against his chest, she finally spoke, burying her toes in the sand. “I haven’t… had a nightmare like that in a long time. I think it just built up.” Her breath caught and she pressed herself closer into his solid warmth, tugging his arms tighter around herself. “My uncle… he used to lock me in this root cellar. One of those ones that was built into the floor and I could barely fit into it. It was really dark and I couldn’t see anything and it was so cold. Even in the summer it was cold.”

She took a shuddering breath and it hit Lorcan so hard in the chest he floundered for air. Elide was not the tough, unfeeling, and heartless lawyer that he saw all the time. She was his age, she was young, and she was broken too. But, she seemed to trust him with her ravaged heart. Something had changed, something had changed for her to hold it out for him to safekeep.

He wouldn’t betray that. He loved her, with every shattered piece of his twisted heart, he loved her.

Knowing she didn’t want his words right now, and certainly not those ones, Lorcan wrapped her up further in his arms, hoping his eternal warmth would seep into her. “I just saw darkness,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on the bright moon. “It was so cold.”

He wanted to thank her for sharing, for offering him that bloodied and broken piece of her, but Elide was drifting off. In her sleep, she reached for his hand and pulled it into her chest, pressing it against her heart.

Eventually, Lorcan scooped her up, blanket and all, as he stood and walked them back to their room, nodding once to his mother when he saw her in the kitchen, drinking a mug of tea. Odette just smiled knowingly and stood up, kissing his cheek and Elide’s as well. “Take care of this girl, my son. She is not as strong as she seems.”

“I will, mama.” I always will.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The bed was empty when he woke up and he frowned, searching across the mattress for Elide. Lorcan groaned into the pillow his arms were wrapped around and sat up, squinting his eyes at the sun that streamed through the windows.

Sighing to himself, he dressed, putting on his glasses, and sought her out, finding her down at the beach, a book in hand. He watched her in silence for a moment or two before walking up behind her and sitting down, pulling her back into his chest. “Hi, princess.”

Elide hummed, pressing into him, “Hi.”

“How are you,” he murmured, tucking his chin in the crook of her neck. It wasn’t an innocent query.

“I’m good. Promise,” she answered, putting her book down and turning in his arms, straddling his lap. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He had done it without question, without hesitation. He’d seen her at her worst, so deeply entrenched in her past that she could barely recognize him.

“Always.” He tilted his head back to look up at her, sliding his hands down to her ass. She rolled her eyes but let him keep his hands there, hers resting on the sides of his neck.

“How are you?”

Lorcan smirked, “Never been better.”

Elide rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Slim fingers slid into his thick locks and he buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her elderberry and cinnamon perfume and his cedar cologne mixing together on the hoodie of his that she wore. “I could stay like this forever,” Elide whispered softly, her lips on the crown of his head. She felt safe and secure - here in his arms, like nothing could touch her.

“Then why don’t you,” he said, leaning back and arching a brow.

She looked at him, really looked at him, something unreadable in her eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“There’s nothing I want more than that. Stay.”

His heart beat hard, frantic until she grinned and nodded, kissing his lips, “I’d like that.” She kissed him harder, grinding herself slowly into his lap.

He opened his mouth to deepen the embrace when someone called their names. They both looked up to find Maeve beckoning them to her. Lorcan turned back to Elide, a deep frown gracing his face. “I hate her.”

“I know you do, baby,” she replied, pushing his glasses up after they slipped down his nose. “Let’s go see what she wants, ok?” He grumbled but did as she asked, tangling his fingers in hers as Elide picked up her book and they leisurely strolled back up the sandy beach after Elide had brushed off the sand on the pair of sweats she had stolen from him.

Lorcan found he didn’t mind that she took his clothes.

“You two need to come with me.” That was all Maeve said before she was striding away and Lorcan clenched his jaw, following her at a much slower pace. Elide paused, making Maeve wait a little while ahead as she shoved her hair into a low bun. Maeve huffed and then led them into the living room of the guest house she occupied, where there sat a man whose presence they dreaded.

Benson.

“Well if it isn’t the happy couple!”

Lorcan whipped his head to Maeve, “What did you do?” She didn’t say a thing. “What did you do?”

She regarded him with a cool gaze. “Benson called me yesterday. Said you were lying so Elide wouldn’t get deported. Told me you would get caught and go to prison.” Lorcan narrowed his eyes and she continued, “Your mother knows nothing - let’s keep it that way. All you have to do is tell the truth.”

The agent stood and addressed Lorcan, both he and Maeve ignoring Elide as she slunk back, folding in on herself. Lorcan didn’t notice as she let go of his hand. “Your auntie here flew me up and we worked out a deal. All you need to do is tell the truth and this thing will all go away. No charges, no trouble.”

“And Elide?”

Benson made a face, “Mmm, she won’t be as lucky. No, she’s going back to Terrasen and won’t be let back into the country. Ever.”

“Why would I say yes to that?” he spat, livid as he stared down his great-aunt.

“You’re making a mistake-“

“That’s none of your fucking business even if I am!”

“L, it’s fine,” Elide whispered, trying to calm him but he wouldn’t have it.

“The hell it is. No, it is not fine!”

“Blah-blah-blah,” Benson said, “just tell me the truth and we’ll on be on our way. You know she doesn’t love you. This is all a business deal to her - you must realize that. She doesn’t care about you.”

Elide took Lorcan’s hand, her eyes open and unguarded - for him, only him, “Just tell them. It’s fine, I’m fine.”

Lorcan looked at her for a long moment before he sighed through his nose and turned back to Maeve and Benson. “You want to know the truth? Listen up. Two years ago, I started working for Elide. We started dating six months ago, fell in love, and I asked her to marry me and she said yes. Happy?” He didn’t bother waiting for their responses before he was pulling Elide out of the house, storming away.

They were halfway down the stairs when Lorcan stopped and turned back, black eyes flashing as he snarled, “If either of you two show up tomorrow, I’ll throw you out myself.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide slipped out of their room when Lorcan was in the shower, padding out onto the patio, where she found Aelin. The woman smiled brightly, “There’s the blushing bride. How are you, darling?”

Elide didn’t return Aelin’s enthusiasm and her smile faded as she stood up and guided Elide to the couch. “What’s wrong?”

She took one look at the woman who’d become her close friend over the past four days and burst into tears. She only cried harder when Aelin hugged her close and whispered quiet nothings, making soothing sounds to calm her. “Let it out, girlie. Talk to me.”

Elide spilled everything, the entire unbelievable tale tumbling from her lips. Aelin didn’t say a word during the story until Elide let out a huge breath at the end. “Wow. It’s like a movie!”

“That’s so not what I want to hear right now.” Elide hiccupped, tears sliding down her cheeks again. “What do I do? He’s still going through with it, but I can’t let him ruin it all just for me.”

“Honey,” Aelin said, brushing back Elide’s hair from her brow, “I’ve known Lorcan for a long time, he’s like my brother and I love him to death. I’ve never seen him this happy, even when you two were pretending, which I don’t believe. Seriously, the chemistry is off the charts-“

“Relationships aren’t just chemistry.”

Elide received a sharp flick to the tip of her nose and exclaimed in shock, rubbing the inflicted area. “I know that, listen to what I’m saying. Whenever someone tells a joke, he looks around to see if you’re laughing too. He gives you random hugs just because. He kept you cooped up in that room after you fell in the water and fussed. That ridiculous boy doesn’t do that stuff to people he doesn’t care about. Trust me.”

“But-“

“Elide, listen to me. Lorcan is my best friend - we’re family, ok? When we first met, we hated each other. Couldn’t stand to be around one another without getting into screaming matches. One night, he found me hiding out in a corner, avoiding my ex at a party. Lor sat with me the entire night and shit-talked with me all night. The next day, I saw him telling my ex he’d kill him if he ever came near me again,” Aelin said, her eyes bright and warm. “I know what it’s like to see him care for someone. That boy is falling in love with you.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

When she got back to their room, Lorcan was in the bathroom, his attention focused on his hair. Elide walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her lips against his tattoo. She didn’t know what the symbols on his skin meant, but she knew he held them dearly to his heart – a way for him to bring a piece of his home everywhere with him.

“Benson’s left.”

“Hm.”

Lorcan turned and tilted her chin up, wiping away the stray tears that leaked down her cheeks. “Princess, please don’t cry. They’re not going to take you away from me - it’s gonna be fine.”

Elide turned her face to kiss his palm, closing her eyes. “I’m just tired, Lorcan. Come to bed?”

He was unconvinced but relented, not letting her get one step away before he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her to bed.

He fell asleep first, his body a comforting weight keeping her pressed into the mattress. Despite what he had said and what Aelin had told her, she knew that there was only one option possible. She had taken so much away from him already and though just the thought of it made her heart ache, Elide knew she would be leaving the Northern Isles alone.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: oopsie 😳

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere e @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @superspiritfestival @yikesitsmaddie @flowerspringsea @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books s @b00kworm @bat-wing-rhys @poisonous00 @empress-ofbloodshed @feyrethedarklady @gorl-power @keshavomit @ifinallygavein @rosegoldannie @pilesoffriles @julemmaes @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

#too late to turn back now #tlttbn chapter nine #the proposal au #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Creep part 2 (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x fem!Reader

Genre: Spice!

Sequel to Creep (part 1)

Summary: Your roommate forces you to a dorm hangout with her boyfriend where you get hit on by a creep, only to have Bakugou come along and help you with the situation.

Word count: 2,835

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: More spice than the first part ;) This one took a different turn from the first part, so I hope you all like it! The ending might be a little rushed because I’m really exhausted and I wanted to finish this before I pass out on my keyboard.

This part was inspired by a Tiktok that was going to be a completely different scenario, but it ended up fitting perfectly as a sequel, so I used it!

Also I hit 100 followers!? In 2 weeks?! What are y’all following me for, I’m trash!? Nonetheless thank you for supporting my tiny blog out of the vast world of Tumblr, I really appreciate it. 100 followers may not seem like a lot for some of you, but I never expected this to happen and I’m so grateful for each of you 😘😘 Ok enough of the mushy stuff, onward to the sequel!

Maybe I was hit by cupid's arrow. Or the devil's, considering the type of thoughts I'm having.

I'm not usually the kind of person who lusts over people or their appearances. I'll at least acknowledge them as hot and then move on, but I don't dwell on them. Until I went back to our shared dorm still wearing Bakugou's hoodie and started having flashbacks of our few moments together. His scent coupled with the memory of his smirk and those intense crimson eyes left me with a lingering high. We had left things unfinished, and that little nagging in the back of my head drove me to do something I wouldn't normally do.

And that was stalking him. I ended up scrolling through Ochaco's following list for his profile, and finding it was akin to discovering a hidden treasure. From the outline of his build in that long-sleeve shirt I last saw him in, I knew there was something there. While his profile displayed mostly pictures of his friends hanging out, there were also clips of him training in the gym. Only when I chose those to watch those and scrolled to the end of the set would I be gifted with a beautiful mirror selfie of him in a black tank top. Even just standing there, hands in his pockets or arms crossed across his chest, the curve of his arms and veins straining underneath entice me.

But that wasn't what stands out to me the most. It's actually his neck. In the small amount of time I'd spoken to him, the moment that he removed his hood and exposed it to me is the image that replays the most. The structure of his muscles and his collarbone melding together into a perfect sculpture of a man. That's what mostly haunted me. To think it's one of the more sensitive parts of him makes my heart pound a little harder. In every picture, it was the first thing I looked for.

"You planning on taking that off anytime soon?"

I jolted when Ochaco's sly comment awoke me from my reverie. "Yeah, I just needed to check something first," I tried to play it off before - reluctantly - ripping the hoodie off of me.

And now, the day after that, I have to give it back to him. This morning, a rogue though flashed into my mind: instead of simply handing it to him, I could wear it to class and have him watch me peel it off my body. Such a thought never occurred to me before, startling me for being brash.

I did wear it though. I told myself it was cold in the classroom and I would need it.

When I walked into the classroom, I didn't dare to glance at the back for him since my thoughts haven't been the purest and I think I might've choked if I didn't mentally prepare myself. If he was nice enough, he would have respected that sign, but he wasn't.

As soon as I turned around from getting a pen from my bag, there he was leaning on my desk, earning an embarrassing squeal from me.

His head tilts against his arm. "That's a lovely shade on you."

My breath stops for a millisecond. Huh?

Bakugou twirls one of the strings on the hoodie around his finger. "The black matches your nails."

Oh. Duh. "Yeah? I might keep it then." Just to make my point, I pull the hood up on my head. "You're probably not getting this back."

"Hording my clothes now?" He clicks his tongue, "Sounds like you're the creep now. Or just a thief."

Haaa, you don't know the half of it. From the position he's in, leaning down on the desk and resting his head on his arm, there's a very perfect view of his neck and collarbone right in front of my eyes from under his black shirt and denim jacket. I try not to linger on it and force myself to concentrate on his face instead. "I'll give it back after class, this room is always too cold for me." But today it feels just a bit hotter.

We agree to get lunch and head to the library after class until the professor arrives and he returns to his seat, but not before sending a wink my way. I clutch the neck of the hoodie, stunned as the gesture spirals be back to us almost kissing, before the fire alarm rudely interrupted everything. For the rest of class, I'm more concerned with how to take off an oversized hoodie in a sexy way than any kind of modern British prose.

We decide on staying on one of the library floors where a moderate level of talking is allowed, taking over a small, private study room where the door is transparent and there's a rectangular glass window to see inside. I'm partially thankful for the extra insurance keeping me from possibly jumping on him, but that doesn't keep me from staring and letting my mind run wild.

Bakugou chose the seat at the head of the table and I chose the seat adjacent to him. "I can't get over how the old hag typed out an entire 7 page guideline on how to write this paper. Does she expect us to write a dissertation or something?!"

I slurp my udon. "She needs to chill. I thought her sarcastic humor was funny the first week of class, but she's getting on my nerves now."

"Then why do you keep laughing at all her jokes?"

"Because I need to kiss up to her so she can at least remember me to give me a good grade for one." I put a piece of chicken in my mouth. "And also, I'm low key scared of her killing my first born child."

Bakugou almost chokes on his Mapo Tofu laughing at that, throwing his head back and slamming the table. The image of me kissing his neck flashes through me and cuts my laugh short. Calm yourself! I clear my throat. "Speaking of scary people, if I had met you at the party, I would've had a very different impression of you, since you were much more...aggressive there."

He has a confused expression before he looks down at his food. "You mean how I was screaming playing that game?"

"Yeah." I note how uncomfortable he looks on the subject. "I guess people usually think that of you?"

"Something like that. I was kind of a loudmouth in high school, I think I've gotten better." He turns to me, twirling his chopsticks in his hand curiously. "What was your first impression of me?"

I shrug. "You're quiet, you have a brain in your head, and you like to sleep in class sometimes."

The blond snorts, "People don't usually associate me with 'quiet,' you'd be the first."

Should I be flattered by that? I wonder.

We finish our meals without another word. I pull out my laptop and start looking through the guidelines for our paper again. "I don't even know what book I want to write about, they're all so boring."

Bakugou shrugs, still peering into his laptop screen. "I would just pick the one with a theme you can bullshit the most about."

"I guess," I slump down onto my arm. I always liked reading growing up so I didn't think I would have a tough time in this class, but the professor really drains the energy out of me.

I feel a bit hot in his hoodie, perking up at the opportunity to pique his interest. Maybe I can lift it up so my shirt underneath slides up and shows my stomach a little? Would that be sexy? How do I remove it casually enough in one swift movement without fucking it up? Maybe he'll find any way I do it attractive, because hopefully that's how guys think.

I decide to just try it an see how it goes. Lifting it with both hands from the bottom, I drag the hoodie up and almost get it over my head, feeling my shirt underneath lifting below it. I try straightening my back to make my posture look a little more curvy than I probably already am. The problem I face is getting it off my head, which immediately dampers my effortlessly-sexy act into an awkward one. I have to slip my arms out from the sleeves and push it up from underneath, messing my hair up slightly in the process.

I sneak a glance out of the corner of my eye to gauge his reaction in case he saw it. There is none, his eyes are still glued to the screen.

Well, that was kind of a fail, I think, throwing the hoodie onto the space between us. I'm just a bit disappointed that I can't channel my inner flirt around boys I like, but it's not the end of the world.

"Too bad, I thought you look pretty good in my hoodie," he spares me a smug grin.

I freeze up at the statement, heat rushing to my cheeks. "I think so too," I murmur, "Maybe I should steal your jacket too."

He stops tapping on his keyboard and stares at me with an unfamiliar emotion. I'm about to ask what he's thinking before he removes his jacket and hands it to me. "I'd like to see that."

I almost think it's a joke, but I take it from him anyway, draping it around my shoulders without putting my arms through the sleeves. I get the sense that it might be too big on me if I put it on. A fresh bout of his scent comes with it, sending me into another spiral of unhealthy thoughts.

"I think the universe is trying to tell me something, because you look good in all my clothes," Bakugou leans back in the seat, looking down his nose at me.

The implication makes my heart flutter. "Yeah, they're actually mine and you'd stolen them from me before. Or you just have a really girlish figure." Like hell I believe that, you were probably sculpted from stone by the gods.

"Pfft, whatever you say," he rolls his eyes and looks back his laptop, scanning over the notes he wrote down. "So, this is the list of themes for each of the books we read for class, wanna hear it just in case it triggers something for you?"

My mind is still hung on the sculpted from the gods thought, so I absently nod while staring at him to make him think I'm paying attention. In reality, my thoughts wander to the pictures I'd seen of him a few nights ago, the gym mirror selfies in his tank tops. His arms are definitely just a teaser for what he probably has underneath that shirt, and I'm betting on there being a washboard waiting for me to run my hands over, judging by the brief glance I had down his shirt earlier.

Unconsciously, my eyes trace down to his black button down. It practically teases me, his top 2 buttons undone to expose all of his collarbone and the top of his defined chest. I don't have to go by the low quality mirror posts on his profile or the fuzzy memories from the party, it's right there for me to see. Flashes of me running my fingers over his neck as I nibble on his ear, rogue noises of his hypothetical sighs of bliss, my hands spreading his shirt open to allow for more space to kiss down his muscular neck. Each new image quickens my heart rate and sends a new tremor down my body.

I'd love to just devour him.

"Hey!"

Both his voice and the rational one in my head snap me back to reality. Did I really just-

Annoyance creases in his brow as I recompose myself and sit up straight. "Sorry, I didn't catch the last thing," my voice comes out noticeably strained.

"What's wrong with you-" Just like that, his face crosses with an awareness that only morphs into a smirk. "I guess you're letting your mind wander."

My eyes widen. Shit, he knows, I'm caught! "No, I'm just-"

"We've only known each other for a day and you're already obsessed with me, aren't you?" He leans forward, only to have me lean back, but he pulls the collar of his jacket on me to keep me in place. "That might be a little unhealthy, don't you think?"

I'm staring at his descending lips, part of me holding a desire for them to quell the feeling I've locked up.

Bakugou hums low, breath caressing my face. "I think we have some unfinished business from the other night. You must've been thinking about that." His gaze flickers down to my slightly agape lips before slamming his down on them. Though it's not delicate by any means, it still feels like a tester. Electricity shudders through me at our long-awaited reunion, and when he pulls away for a moment to look down at me with half-lidded eyes, I know he feels the same thing.

And something breaks free inside me. I hurriedly press my lips back against his, catching him by surprise. I take the lead, quickening the tempo of our kisses as one of my hands tangle in his soft hair, not giving either of us time to breathe. Leaning forward into him, my stomach presses into the table corner between us, and I break away from him. Allowing only a few pants, I jolt from my seat and round the corner to take the place of his lap and join our lips again forcibly, my knees on either side of him, pressing our bodies together against the back of the chair and swiveling into the table for stability. He was caught off guard before, but he melts into me and allows his hands to grab my waist.

I trail my tongue onto his lower lip before tracing my lips across his jaw. "You weren't expecting this, were you?" I breathe against the shell of his ear, his natural musk filling my nostrils.

A low groan escape him. "I didn't think you wanted me this much. Must've driven you a little crazy somehow."

My hand tangled in his hair drags down his neck, my nails grazing it ever so slightly, eliciting another growl from him and his grip me tighter. "I'll show you some of what I was just thinking about." Starting at the base of his ear, I pepper more open-mouthed kisses down the same neck that's haunted me, sometimes tickling my tongue over the spots he stiffens up at.

Once I reach the base of his neck, barely caressing that taunting collarbone, I move the opening in his shirt away to expose more of his chest to me, continuing up to where his shoulder and neck conjoin, remaining there to massage it with my lips and lightly graze my teeth on it. "This little creeper wanted to taste this neck you love to flaunt." I pull away and meet his wanton gaze. "I wonder if I should mark it."

Calloused hands dig under my shirt as he catches his breath. "Depends. What kind of relationship do you want from me?" He's holding himself back.

I never stopped to think about it. He's a pretty great guy, we have pretty strong chemistry, and we bounce off each other really well, not to mention he's the only guy to have awakened such new feelings from me. Looping my arms around his neck and joining our foreheads together, I mutter against his lips, "Let's go on a few dates maybe?"

He smirks and gives me another slow kiss before pulling away. "Deal. But let's take this slow. I can very easily do something like this to you too, but then how will I get to know you?"

I sit back on his thighs. "Fair point. And, just an aside," my face gets warmer at my admittance, "I don't normally do this. I'm usually more reserved, but you're different, I guess."

"I think you were just really thirsty for a real man," he winks, earning a shove in the chest from me. "That was an impressive show though, I'll give you credit. Maybe later, I can show you what goes on in my head. Except, it's a lot more than just a few neck kisses."

I almost choke on that, my cheeks growing even hotter.

Bakugou's expression softens, the teasing disappearing. "But before that, we can enjoy ourselves in calmer things. Like dinner? Or bowling?"

My chest swells with something lighter than desire. "Sounds like a plan."

He plants a kiss on my nose. "Okay, now get off before someone walks in on us. It's a study room, not a make out room, creep."

I get off him and settle back into my seat. "I think I prefer the term 'perv,' thank you very much."

#Bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #college!AU #bakugou imagine #bakugou scenario #bakugou spice #female reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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homeformyheart · 3 years

Text

until now - m!raleigh carrera x mc (plat)

author’s note: trying my hand at a shorter piece and for platinum – there will probably be at least one follow-up to this but both will stay as one-shots.

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. songs and lyrics owned by their respective creators. series/pairing: platinum – raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian); mentions of jessica clark (red carpet diaries mc) rating/warnings: 13+; swearing, infidelity, angst word count: 1.7k based on/prompt: “should’ve said no” by taylor swift summary: raleigh gets too drunk and too close to a fan and the only real relationship he’s ever had falls apart.

until now

cadence could recall exactly where she was the moment r&b’s timebomb blew up the internet. she couldn’t recall with detail how she felt or how she reacted in that immediate moment but she could describe the exact shade of brown from her morning latte that stained the open page of her notebook because she stared at it for a solid five minutes after the headlines broke. she was working on a new single for her upcoming album that needed an angsty, heartbreak vibe to balance the upbeat, love-focused songs she had already written. she had a few lines written (it’s strange to think the songs we used to sing / the smiles, the flowers, everything) but had been struggling with motivation to come up with anything more – after all, she hadn’t been heartbroken in a while.

she was happy in her relationship with raleigh and where she was in her career. her first world tour had been a huge success, with raleigh joining her on tour as often as he could. after her tour was over, he insisted he didn’t want to wake up in his apartment without her and it didn’t take long before cadence moved into his penthouse. a few months later, she was able to join raleigh for the beginning of his transformation world tour, his first album since deciding he could embrace the things he enjoyed from his sunset skatepark days, making it his most personal project to date. of course, whenever the music and obligations to the studio called her back to new york, they facetimed as much as they could.

dating cadence had given raleigh some of the “good boyfriend” brownie points with the public related to loyalty and affection. it helped that cadence defended him against unfair accusations and doubled down on how well he treated her to the media and their fans. and no matter what part of his reputation was theme-of-the-week over at the tabloids – shameless flirt, heartbreaker, wild card, adrenaline junkie, to name the popular ones – raleigh never gave anyone a reason to label him as a cheater and more importantly, never gave cadence any reason not to trust him. even in his fake relationships, raleigh made sure that that part of his reputation was sterling. until now.

her phone had buzzed non-stop when the news broke – to the point where she thought she was getting phone calls that sounded like a ticking time bomb but they were mostly texts and social media notifications. the headlines filled her feed one after another – “raleigh carerra cheats on cadence dorian!” “did ralence break-up?” “was cadence too boring for raleigh?” “cadence drives raleigh into arms of another woman!” – along with hundreds of theories painted by devastated and thirsty fans alike who picked apart every public appearance, interaction, social media post, and song lyric associated with the two of them for the past six months as if they could find incriminating clues and signs of a slowly fizzling relationship like amateur sleuths. cadence had to give them props – it’s not like she wouldn’t eventually do the same once she was ready to process the relationship; in some ways, the fans gave her a head start.

how was she supposed to react to this right now? the photos and videos definitely highlighted that sabrina simmons, who cadence vaguely recognized as a media-hungry and wannabe actress from one of raleigh’s older music videos, cozying up to and grinding on raleigh at a club in london, presumably the afterparty for the closing night of his tour. cadence could also point out every tell-tale sign that raleigh was drunk out of his mind; he was relishing in the attention from sabrina and being inappropriately handsy for someone in a well-known, committed relationship. what most people didn’t know, was that cadence could forgive that – raleigh was normally flirty and handsy and alcohol always exacerbated it. what she didn’t think she could forgive was the next thing she saw – or rather heard.

if cadence felt like she was close to either having a raging smash-everything-breakable-in-raleigh’s-apartment spree or an emotional-because-her-heart-was-actually-breaking meltdown, the audio clip that hit her inbox pushed her to the teetering edge of both. the recording was barely 15 seconds long but it was damning. given the circumstances, it was probably planted or planned by sabrina who wanted to catapult herself into internet fame by taking advantage of raleigh’s reputation. her voice could be heard asking him if he wanted to come back to her hotel room. the question didn’t matter to cadence though, because raleigh’s response – “fuck yes” – was clear as day and cadence knew it would haunt her for months to come.

[jessica: just saw the videos – u ok? i’m heading home to iowa for a break from work, come stay with me, no one will find you there]

cadence quickly typed out a text reply, grateful for the close friendship she had with jessica clarke, the actress-turned-director who directed the music video for her last single. there was only one call she needed to make. if anyone was already putting things in motion, it was fiona. right on cue, she picked up and before cadence could say two words, said, “i’m so sorry cadence. i’ve already got movers on the other line and hank’s on his way.”

“thanks fiona. i’m going to stay with jessica in iowa and lay low for a bit. raleigh is not allowed to find out where i am; i will get a new phone if i need to,” cadence said, calmly starting to pull out and sort her things from raleigh’s closet so the movers would know exactly what to pack while she ironed out a few more details with fiona.

raleigh was still way too drunk when his manager barged into his hotel room and forced him into the shower. he was very drunk when his security team had to half-drag him all the way to where the private jet was waiting at the airport. he was mostly drunk throughout the eight-hour flight back to new york and progressed to staggeringly hungover by the time he was in a private car heading back to his penthouse apartment. once raleigh felt like he was only massively hungover, he pulled out his phone to text cadence. he became only mostly hungover after seeing that his texts weren’t going through. in a matter of seconds, his now slightly hungover state took a backseat to the anxiety filling his stomach as he tried calling to no avail. he frowned as he opened his news feed. the headlines alone made his eyes widen but the videos were what sobered him up the rest of the way.

a new email in his inbox from cadence caught his eye. it was an audio clip and a straightforward message: just so we’re clear, our relationship is over.

cadence was halfway to the airport when she saw the incoming call from an unknown number. she knew it was probably raleigh since she had blocked his number, but she answered the call anyway. she knew she was going to need the closure, may as well get it out of the way.

“cadence? it’s me, please don’t hang up. i’m so sorry, babe. i have no idea what happened, believe me. i woke up in my own hotel room alone, i promise,” raleigh begged, the pit in his stomach had lodged itself in his throat, threatening to turn into tears.

she chose to ignore what he just said. if she let herself pull at that thread and dig into it further to see if it was the truth, she’d never be able to end things cleanly. “tell me this – was she worth it? was she worth this?” she asked, her voice hardened as a reminder to both herself and raleigh that he couldn’t sweet talk his way out of this one.

“of course not. i was black out drunk and don’t remember anything, i swear. all of the stuff in the videos and photos, it was all just—” raleigh’s voice softened, “a moment of weakness.”

“that’s convenient since i’m pretty sure this wasn’t an isolated moment,” cadence said in a clipped tone, examining her worn nail beds. she made a mental note to ask jessica for salon recommendations in her hometown. “do you honestly expect me to believe we could ever be the same?”

“i love you, cadence. i would never cheat on you, babe – you have to believe me,” raleigh pleaded, swallowing his pride at the fact that he was begging right now.

cadence let out a dry, humorless laugh. “i don’t have to do anything, those recordings speak for themselves. you should’ve known that what you did with her would get back to me. and you know what i think? you knew what you were doing. you actually had everything you could’ve ever wanted – the fame, fortune, and creative freedom that comes with success in this industry and something real with someone who cares about the real you, not the curated, fake version of you.”

she paused to take a deep breath and blink back the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. keep it together, cadence, she told herself. “and it scared the shit out of you, didn’t it? it got too real for you because having something real and precious as love in your life also means you could lose it too. and even the thought of that happening made you feel so vulnerable that instead of treasuring and protecting it you decided to utterly destroy the only real relationship you’ve ever had. congratulations – you’ve perfected your bad boy reputation and collected the last trophy you needed, cheater.”

her words cut right through him. “i— i’m so sorry, cadence,” raleigh whispered into the phone. “i swear, i don’t remember saying yes to her or even doing anything with her. please just, tell me what i need to do to fix this.”

the audio recording replayed on loop in cadence’s mind. after a long pause, she whispered back, “you should’ve said no.” the finality of cadence’s tone was punctuated by the beep from his phone indicating she had hung up.

raleigh stood up from the couch where he had sat while on the phone with cadence. as he walked toward the bathroom, he finally looked around his apartment and realized that all of her stuff was gone. the apartment was empty, quiet, almost sterile with its clear surface areas and shiny, clean floors. it was like she had never lived here; his closet didn’t have the hint of jasmine from the perfume on her clothes, his sink counter was devoid of her jewelry and makeup, his music room wasn’t drowning in loose sheets of paper covered in her handwriting, and worst of all, the clothes she always borrowed of his, including his oversized tour shirts and sweatpants, were folded neatly on his bed.

he reached into the back corner of his closet, the side closest to the door, where no one ever stored or looked for anything until he found his gym bag. his felt around the old shirts in the bag until his fingers wrapped around a small, velvet box. he didn’t have to open it to recall the vivid five-carat emerald-cut diamond ring he had planned on proposing to cadence with. he held the box against his forehead, hand clenched around it, before throwing it as hard as he could out the bedroom door into the living room, twisting and turning his body from a crouching to an upright position in one smooth motion. maybe he should’ve been a baseball pitcher instead. it hit the far wall with a resounding thud.

the echo reverberated throughout his living room until it was met with silence, once again reminding him that he was utterly alone. and for the first time in a very long time, he cried. raleigh carrera had never been heartbroken before. until now.

* * * * * mentions: @raleigh-edward; @dulceghernandez; @thegreentwin; @kat-tia801; @otherworldlypresents; @brycesgirl; @robintora;

#reposting for new blog #choices #pb choices #playchoices #raleigh carrera #raleigh x mc #raleigh carrera x mc #cadence dorian #raleigh x cadence #choices fanfic #choices fanfics #playchoices fanfiction #my writing #not twc #choices platinum #choices fic writers creations #raleigh carrera x cadence dorian #my choices fics

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livesincerely · 4 years

Text

you only have to ask (i’d give you absolutely anything)

Also on Ao3. Rated E

00000

“Hey there, beautiful.” Davey turns towards the source of the voice: a stocky blond in a pair of cargo shorts. He waves his hand at a small stretch of unclaimed space at Davey’s right. “Mind if I grab the spot next to you?”

“Um, no, go ahead.” Davey moves over slightly to make room but the stranger steps confidently into Davey’s space with a cocky, flirtatious grin.

“You’re new here, right?” the guy says, giving Davey an obvious once over. “I mean, I haven’t seen you around before and I’d’ve noticed a pair of eyes as pretty as yours.”

“I just moved in yesterday,” Davey confirms, blushing despite himself at such a blatant come on. “I’m David.”

“David, huh?” The stranger chuckles, trailing his fingers along Davey’s arm, then cupping a hand around Davey’s elbow. “And why’s a guy as good looking as you standing here all by himself?”

“Do you know Jack Kelly?” Davey asks, still trying to decide how he feels about the unexpected attention. “He’s supposed to be showing me around but I lost him somewhere in the crowd. Figured I’d post up someplace visible and wait for him to find me.” Davey finishes his drink, then throws his empty cup into a lone trash bag hanging off the back of a fold-up chair. “The fact that all the booze is here is just a convenient coincidence.”

Davey flashes the guy a grin but he doesn’t seem to share in the humor. Actually, his eyes have gone incredibly wide, a look of sudden comprehension sweeping across his face.

“Wait, David— Davey?” He snatches his hand back like Davey’s skin has turned scalding hot. “You’re Kelly’s Davey?”

Davey frowns. “I guess? I mean, I didn’t know he’d talked about me—“

The stranger’s eyes catch on something just over Davey’s shoulder, then he takes a large, deliberate step away. Davey turns to look, but a part of him already knows what he’s going to find.

Sure enough, it’s Jack. He making his way across the room at a steady clip, not hindered at all by the crowd of bodies between him and his goal, his gaze fixed unerringly on the guy standing next to Davey. He looks absolutely furious.

Davey’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Whoa, Kelly, sorry, I didn’t realize—“

Jack steps between them, positioning himself so that Davey is slightly behind him and decisively out of the stranger’s grasp. There’s an edge to his expression, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch him.”

The stranger backs even further away, his hands raised in surrender. Davey thinks he must disappear into the crowd but he’s honestly not watching, too distracted by the way Jack’s chest is heaving, by the fierce set of his shoulders and the clench of his jaw.

“Fucking asshole,” Jack fumes. “He’s lucky I didn’t knock his damn teeth out, always prowling around and never knowing when to back the fuck off. He shouldn’t have put his fucking his hands on you.”

The words fall out of Davey’s mouth before he can stop them. “Why not?”

This seems to shock Jack out of his anger. “What?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“Why not?” Davey repeats, meeting Jack’s gaze, chin tilted up in challenge. There’s a warmth rising up Davey’s belly: years of longing finally kindled by a combination of alcohol and the undeniable spark of Jack’s jealousy. “Why shouldn’t he put his hands on me?”

Jack’s gaze is a hot, heady thing. Davey imagines he can feel the weight of it sweeping over him, catching on the planes of his cheeks, the line of his throat. He licks his lips, just a quick little flick of the tongue; Jack’s eyes follow the motion and linger.

“Eventually someone’s going to,” Davey continues, stepping forward until he and Jack are standing almost chest to chest. “If not him then someone else.”

He reaches out and draws a finger down the side of Jack’s neck, scratching lightly at Jack’s pulse point as he goes. Jack swallows audibly, perfectly still except for his hands, which flex and clench erratically—like he’s using all his self control to keep them at his sides.

“Does that bother you, Jack?” Davey asks, soft but pointed. They’re teetering on the brink now: any action could be the one that topples them over the edge. “That someone’s going to have me? That someone else is going to touch me?”

Davey leans ever so slightly closer. “That I might want them to?”

“Dave,” Jack finally growls out, a warning and a plea. It sends a shiver of delight down Davey’s spine. “Davey, what’re you—”

“Jack,” Davey breathes, looking at Jack through his eyelashes. “Put your fucking hands on me.”

Jack moves like a dam bursting, grabbing Davey’s hips and shoving him back up against the nearest wall. Their bodies are plastered together, every inch of Davey molded against every inch of Jack, and the heat between their bodies is almost unbearable because Davey has wanted this, has asked for this, but he’d never dreamed that Jack would actually give it to him.

“There,” Jack says. His forehead rests against Davey’s, their lips only inches apart. “Got any other requests for me, sweetheart?”

The endearment almost seems to hit Davey like a physical blow—the low rasp of Jack voice and the simmering heat in his eyes are a merciless combination—and Davey has to bite back a whimper.

“I think you should kiss me,” Davey says, already dizzy with desire. “I want you to kiss me, and then I want everything you’re willing to give me because jesus, Jack—”

Jack’s eyes go impossibly dark, and then they’re kissing, Jack’s mouth moving hard and desperate against his own. It’s better than Davey could have ever imagined, the hot press of Jack’s lips and the rough slide of his tongue. Jack’s hands drift up, catching against the hem of Davey’s shirt then slipping underneath, palming greedily at the bare skin of Davey’s back. The touch makes Davey shudder and pant, and his hands curl against the collar of Jack’s shirt, the fabric bunching up as he clings to him.

“Jack,” Davey moans as Jack ducks his head and starts blazing a trail down the side of Davey’s neck, wet and searing. “Jack, oh my god⁠—”

“Is this what you wanted, Dave?” Jack’s voice rumble’s right in Davey’s ear, his teeth scraping against Davey’s skin. “Is this what you wanted, sweetheart?”

Davey gasps and trembles. Sweetheart.

“Yes,” Davey eventually gets out. “Fuck, Jackie, can I⁠— can we⁠—”

“Tell me what you want, Davey,” Jack orders, and one of his hands moves to curl under Davey’s thigh, the other a hot brand against the small of his back. “You gotta give me your words, I gotta hear you say it.”

“I already told you,” Davey pants, fingers digging into Jack’s shoulders as he melts into him. “Everything. Anything.”

Jack groans somewhere deep in his chest, then kisses him again, messy and frantic. “Shit, Dave, are we actually⁠—”

“Take me back to the dorm,” Davey says. The party is still in full swing, drunken chatter and bass-heavy music pulsing all around them, but Davey only has eyes for Jack. Always for Jack. “Take me back to the dorm and fuck me like you mean it.”

Jack makes a noise⁠: a throaty, involuntary little keen. His expression is a mix of awed disbelief and simmering lust. “Jesus Christ, Davey, where the hell is this⁠— I’d give you anything, anything you ask me for, but are you sure you want to⁠— Are you sure you want me to⁠—”

Davey stops that line of thought in its tracks with another biting kiss. “I want you. Jackie, I want you.” He gives Jack a considering look, then lets his gaze wander away. “But if you don’t want to, I can go hunt down the guy from earlier—he seemed plenty interested before you scared him away.”

Immediately, Jack’s lip curls up in something like a snarl, his expression shading dark and possessive once again. It’s exhilarating.

“Are you tryin' to provoke me?” Jack grinds out. His grip has tightened to just this side of bruising.

“It it working?” Davey breathlessly asks.

Jack’s fingers close around Davey’s wrist and the next thing he knows Jack’s dragging him through the crowd and out of the frat house, only letting him go when they come up to Jack’s car. The journey home passes in a blur. Jack drives like a mad man, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel, and between one moment and the next they’re pulling up to Jack’s dorm.

Jack’s hands are shaking as he works his key into the deadbolt, cursing under his breath as he wrestles the door open. He ushers Davey inside and kicks the door closed with his foot, but before he can get his bearings Davey shoves him up against it.

Their next kiss is absolutely filthy, all tongues and teeth and frenzied heat sparking between them.

“Off, off,” Davey says, tugging at the bottom of Jack’s t-shirt. Their lips separate just long enough for Jack to wrestle his shirt off, then clash back together.

They move clumsily towards Jack’s bed, neither one willing to let go of the other long enough to cross more easily. Davey pushes Jack down onto the mattress, then climbs on top of him, his thighs bracketing Jack’s hips.

“Holy shit, Davey, I can’t⁠— Is this real?” Jack groans, watching with wide, wide eyes as Davey pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside, then settles himself more firmly in Jack's lap. “Or did I drink too much and pass out under a coffee table somewhere?”

“If this is a dream, I’m going to be incredibly upset when I wake up,” Davey answers, rocking his hips down against Jack’s until they’re both gasping at the friction. “Yes, Jack⁠—”

“God, this is like somethin’ straight out of my dirtiest fantasies,” Jack says, his hands splayed wide and possessive around Davey’s ribcage. “You at the party, looking up at me all pissed off and gorgeous, desperate for my hands on you. Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted you.”

“Tell me,” Davey demands, cupping a hand around the back of Jack’s neck and leaning in to slot their mouths together in another passionate kiss. “Tell me how long you’ve wanted me.”

“I’ve… wanted you⁠... for ages,” Jack pants against Davey's mouth, his hands shifting down to wrap around Davey’s waist and pull their bodies even closer together. “Like, since junior prom, if not earlier. I saw Lonnie Vega groping your ass in the middle of the gym during the slow dance and hadta stop myself from breaking his nose.”

“I’ve wanted you since the summer after sophomore year,” Davey replies, fingers curling in Jack’s hair. “You got drunk at Amy Nelson’s pool party and told me I had the most stupidly pretty eyes in the entire universe.”

Davey bites his lip, then confesses, “I almost climbed into your lap right then and there.”

Jack’s hands spasm against Davey’s skin, then clamp down even harder around Davey’s hips. “Fucking fuck. You can’t just—”

That’s all the warning Davey gets before Jack flips them, leaving Davey flat on his back with Jack cradled between his thighs. Jack pulls him into an absolutely scorching kiss, devouring his mouth so thoroughly that Davey can’t do anything except hold on and let him, until he’s a breathless, pliant mess sprawled across the bed sheets.

Jack’s tears himself away, his fingers fumbling at his fly. Davey goes to do the same to his own and second later they’re tangled together⁠ again, this time with the intoxicating slide of bare skin against bare skin.

“Jack,” Davey whimpers after several long moments of kissing and touching. “Jack, I want⁠—”

“I know, sweetheart,” Jack says. “I gotcha.”

Jack pulls away to dig around in the drawer of his nightstand⁠ and Davey feels the loss of Jack’s body heat, of Jack’s weight pressing him down into the mattress, like an ache in his chest. Jack comes back with a condom and a bottle of lube, which he quickly uncaps and drizzles over his fingers.

“Yeah?” Jack says, looking to Davey for permission.

“Yeah, Jack, just hurry up⁠ and—” The rest of Davey’s words dissolve into a throaty sigh as the first of Jack’s fingers presses inside of him. “Mmmmm, yes.”

“God, Davey, you’re perfect like this,” Jack murmurs, expression reverent. “So perfect for me.”

It’s overwhelming⁠—the gravitational pull of Jack’s gaze, the protective cage of his body over Davey’s⁠, the incredible feeling of Jack’s finger stretching him open. Jack bends down to kiss him as he works a second finger inside and Davey’s arms come up to loop around Jack’s neck to keep him there, desperate for something to anchor him in the wash of sensations.

When Jack curls his fingers up and finally brushes against Davey’s prostate, Davey throws his head back with a choking moan, his nails digging into Jack’s shoulders as he writhes and shakes. Jack zeros in on that spot with a single minded focus, a third finger slipping in as his movements speed up, and Davey nearly sobs with how good it all feels.

“Jack,” Davey begs. “Jackie, that’s enough, come on.”

Jack presses a kiss to the inside of Davey’s knee, then tears open the condom and rolls it into place. Davey tilts his hips up for a better angle and the tip of Jack’s dick rubs directly over his hole, causing them both to moan. Then Jack finally presses forward, filling Davey in one careful, fluid movement, and Davey almost can’t breathe with how much he wants this.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jack hisses as he bottoms out, his hips sitting flush against Davey’s ass. He’s biting his lip so hard it looks like he might draw blood, his eyes blown out with desire. “You feel so damn good.”

“Jack,” Davey whimpers. He squirms a little, impatient and longing for more, then wraps his legs around Jack’s waist to draw him even closer. The adjustment causes Jack’s dick to sink that much deeper inside him, and Davey’s mouth parts around a strung-out whine. “Jack, fuck me.”

Jack’s response is a full-body shudder. “I⁠— shit, yeah, okay.”

He pulls out the barest amount, then slowly thrusts back in, starting to work up into a steady pace. Davey’s hands scrabble against Jack’s back, each grind of Jack’s hips sending bolts of pleasure shooting down his spine, and Jack leans down and slants his mouth across Davey’s in another kiss⁠—full of emotion, full of promise.

And it’s amazing, it’s more than amazing, but there’s something that Davey wants, and Jack said he’d give him anything if he just asked for it it.

“I thought you were going to fuck me like you mean it,” Davey gasps out between thrusts.

Jack’s hips stutter, then still. “...What?” he breathes.

“You heard me,” Davey says, though he can’t help but squirm a little, feeling a hot blush spread across his cheeks. “Fuck me like you fucking mean it.”

Jack stares at him, and the expression on his face is like nothing Davey’s ever seen.

“David,” Jack says in a voice like gravel⁠⁠—one final warning.

Davey lets his arms stretch over his head, his head tilted in offering. He looks up at Jack from under his eyelashes and murmurs, “Please?”

Jack snaps. His next thrust has enough power behind it that it threatens to send Davey’s head slamming into the wall above to the bed. Jack sets a brutal pace, driving into Davey hard and fast, and Davey cries out, clawing at Jack’s shoulders, helpless to do anything except feel as Jack thoroughly wrecks him.

“You never know when to stop pushing me, do you sweetheart?” Jack growls out, his words punctuated by a rough, dirty grind of his hips. Davey bucks and keens. “I’m so damn weak for you⁠—you can’t even imagine how much I want you, how much I need you.”

“Jack,” Davey sobs. “Yes, yes, yes, fuck⁠—”

“So fucking gorgeous,” Jack continues, and Davey thinks he can feel the words dragging over his skin, can feel the grit of each and every syllable. “Had every single person at that damn party staring at you and didn’t even notice. Made me wanna mark up your neck just so everyone knew not to fucking touch you.”

Jack bends down to draw the flat of his tongue across Davey’s collarbones, then bites down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, his hips still pistoning in and out, in and out. “Because no one’s supposed to touch you but me, isn’t that right David?” He circles his hips, then snaps them forward, the head of his dick hitting right against Davey’s prostate. “No one’s hands but mine.”

And Davey can barely speak through the fire racing through him, can barely think through the sheer ecstasy of it all, but he manages to babble out, “Yes, Jack, just you, only you, god, please don’t stop⁠—”

“Mine,” Jack growls. “Mine.”

He reaches between them to wrap a hand around Davey leaking, neglected dick and Davey vision whites out, back arching high off the bed as he comes hard against Jack’s stomach. He comes back to himself just in time to watch as Jack follows him over the edge, his rhythm faltering as his orgasm washes over him.

They stay right where they are for several long moments afterwards, just breathing together. Then Jack says, quietly but full of feeling, “Anything you want. All you have to do is ask.”

Davey kisses him one more time, chaste and sweet. “I want everything,” he promises. “Everything you want to give me.”

#newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid #*final cut #*the writing desk #*editor's note #Tease series #tada more possessive jack #i don't have a reason for this except that i wanted it #i absolutely wrote this for me but hopefully some of yall like it too

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whyaretheyfictionalcharacters · 4 years

Text

Kinktober - Day 5

Ok so, second Sterek instalment. Good stuff.

Originally posted on AO3.

xoxo Lexi

“I don't think anyone is really taking this seriously”, Stiles comments, stepping over a tree trunk with the same grace Derek has just showed. Exactly the same. He flays around his arms a tid bit but apart from that? They could be mistaken for the same person.

Derek twists around and goes to help him. “Are you?”.

“Well, considering who thought about this you're damn right I am”.

The treasure hunt was Lydia's idea, a way to build in-pack relationships and create a more stable net of connections among them. If Stiles thinks her intention was to simply prove again to everyone else who's the smartest in the pack—he's certainly not going to tell anyone, he's not suicidal. And that's exactly the same reason he's taking this (honestly a bit ridiculous) relationship building exercise seriously. Or as seriously as he can take it, anyway.

“Lydia scares you?”.

“Of course she does! Doesn't she scare you?”.

“Oh, I'm terrified of her”, Derek answers with a frown. “And she's tiny”.

Stiles laughs, dried leaves crunching underneath his sneakers. “Don't let her hear you”.

“She's not a werewolf”. A small shrug. “Jackson is the only one around and he's at least a mile away”.

As they walk in silence, the only noise around them being their footsteps thudding on the ground, Stiles finally finds some appreciation for the quietness of the preserve. Being here with Derek, letting their shoulders and fingers brush against each other after the messy few weeks they've had with threats in the supernatural world feels comfortable and surreal. And probably it's his leftover-teenage hormones speaking but he can't wait for this treasure hunt to end so Derek and he can run off to his room and blow off some steam. Or blow off something else. That does sound like a plan.

His dad would not come back until later that night, probably after dinner, and that'd give them – Stiles calculates quickly in his mind – five hours to get funky, to jelly roll. Scrog a bit and schtupp together. To take old one eye to the optometrist. To play hide the salami. To dip Derek's cookie in Stiles glass of milk. Numerous times, if the werewolf's refractory period gives any clue. They could start small; make out on Stiles bed and test the sturdiness of the frame – which they've already done, by the way and sneaking out a broken bed slat out of the Sheriff's home is not as easy as it might sound. Which doesn't sound easy. At all. So one can only imagine the uncomfortable conversation he's had to have with Mrs Wunderby from across the road – and then get rid of their clothes because Stiles is a selfless person and Derek's body is something that needs to be cherished and admired. Keeping it clothed would be like...like clipping wings off of a mighty eagle. Or shut down the Smithsonian. It'd have that much of a cultural backfire. It'd be immoral.

So Stiles would take Derek's clothes off and admire that chest of his, all wide and muscly and warm and furry in a sexy way. He'd dip his hand down to follow the line of hairs to his navel, go over it and open his jeans because if unclothing Derek's chest is a cultural aid for the entire state of California, than the sight of his cock is a spiritual experience.

Derek Hale is big. Not impossibly big – Stiles is sure he doesn't live in one of those ridiculous stories people read with enhanced and horse-sized dicks – but nevertheless he's...gifted. Must have something to do with those werewolf genes of his and if that's the case, dear Mother Nature, wolves are a gift to them all. What turns on Stiles though it's not just the size of his shaft – still has a pretty high place in the list of 'Reasons why Derek Hale is a gift from the gods and Stiles is grateful he's his boyfriend' – it's the utter difference there is between the two of them. And that's not a euphemism about his own cock, Stiles is pretty content with his genitals, no complaints there. No, that's not it at all.

Stiles still remember when he recognised what the issue was and he probably has to thank Erica for that.

“You're such a twink, Stiles”, she had said once during their weekly coffee meetings and Stiles has seen enough gay porn after his surprising epiphany in high school to know what a 'twink' is. He's not oblivious, or his name would've been Scott McCall.

He had tried to deny that in front of his salted caramel frappuccino but as usual Erica had her own arguments. “You are, Stiles. You and Derek are literally the epitome of a bear-twink relationship”.

And God, was she right.

The werewolf might be only slightly taller than him but his presence is mightier, his shoulders wider and his arms definitely bigger. Stiles always feels dwarfed every time he's in close proximity with Derek and he does not complaint about that. Not. One. Bit. Dude can pick him up without breaking a sweat and fuck him against the wall as if he weighted less than a baked potato with bacon sprinkles on top. Jeez, those are good times. Hot times. As in Death Valley hot.

“Stiles”.

Surely they can do something like that today. There are so many options to spend five hours sexing up a werewolf Stiles gets a bit dizzy sometimes: this is literally his teenage dream, with no skinny jeans on and a comfy mattress instead of bedsheets forts in a motel room. Take that Katy Perry.

“Stiles”.

“What? Whassup?”, he asks turning to look at Derek.

Who is currently staring angrily at him. He seems pretty pissed actually, if Stiles has to tell the truth. Unfortunately he thought he had left all those annoyed stares and growled words in the past so this is turning out to be a shocking turn of events. In a not-so-sexy way.

“Uhm...Der? Everything okay?”.

Green eyes seems to struggle to not turn bright blue, flashing dangerously between the two shades. “Where's your head at?”.

Okay, this does seem like a trick question. Lydia taught me about this sort of things. “On my...shoulders?”.

Derek does not seem impressed. “You smell—you're stinking up the place”.

“Oh. Sorry”, he mutters self-consciously.

He thought Derek liked his smell. Sometimes he also finds him with his face deep into his own pillow when he comes back from the bathroom after Derek spends the night; or he would dip his nose along Stiles' neck while they're watching a film on the were's laptop in his apartment. When they're in public and Stiles thinks about sexy-times-ensuring things Derek always can smell him and he gets this intense expression that almost resembles his old…

Oh. Oh.

“Oh”.

“Yeah”, Derek agrees tightly as he steps forward. “Oh”.

“I think—I think my head is not taking this, uh. This treasure hunt as seriously as before, big guy”.

One step forward. “Really now?”.

“Mmh-mm”. Stiles steps back. “I mean. Can you blame me?”.

“I don't know. We were just talking about Jackson”. Another step.

Urgh. “Let's not mention him, deal?”. Last step backwards and Stiles' back hits the thick trunk of a tree. “I really don't wanna think about him and sex together. That's just plain wrong”.

He can see a gleam of amusement and coyness as Derek stops in front of him, face just inches away from Stiles'. “Oh, is that what you were thinking about? Sex?”.

“Uh, duh. I was thinking about, you know, when this stupid treasure hunt is other and we can go back to mine and the fact that my dad is going to be out for at least five hours – I know, I counted them – and we could, you know. Get some stankie on hang down—”.

“God, Stiles”. Derek's face scrunches up horrified. “No”.

“No? You don't like that? Okay, how about I ride your flagpole?”.

“Stiles”.

“Storm the cotton gin”.

“Stiles”.

“Hit a home run”.

“Stiles”.

“Sorry!”, he says with a small smile at Derek's exasperation. “Thought you'd appreciate the baseball reference. But another thing I was thinking was—”.

Derek glares at him. “I swear to God, Stiles. If you say one more—”.

“—you said Jackson is at least a mile away and we're all alone now”. Stiles looks down bashfully and hooks his finger in Derek's waistband. “And who knows when this awful thing is going to end. Might not have time when we get home”. Looking up from under his eyelashes he smirk a bit. “We could save time and...do this. Now. Here”.

He sees a shiver running up Derek's arms just before they're placed on the tree caging his head. “You want to do it here?”.

“Yes”, he whispers.

“Now?”.

“Yeah”. A breath and a whimper.

He has enough time to think about the possibilities when a mouth descends on him and sharp, human teeth bite his lower lip, pulling reverently before nipping it. Stiles gasps when Derek's body presses up against his through the many, too many layers of clothes they're currently wearing. Derek takes that opportunity to slip his tongue between the other's lips, teasing the wet muscle and probing the mouth with deep, hungry movements.

“Lydia's—shit. Lydia's going to be so angry”, Stiles weakly comments before moaning as Derek's hips press against his, trapping him between his warm, strong body and the cold trunk behind him.

“Do you care?”.

“Fuck no”.

He snakes his hands underneath Derek's t-shirt, revelling in the heat of his olive skin, the softness of his hairs and the hardness of his muscles. One of the wolf's thighs gets between his own, providing some blessed friction for Stiles' awakening cock. He rubs himself against Derek, feeling the need to open his legs for him and the sensation of emptiness is starting to get too uncomfortable to be ignored as they're kissing. He's never been an exhibitionist (he thinks, though he's discovering all kinds of kinks in his relationship with Derek) but the idea of having the wolf inside him, right here and now in the middle of the preserve with the afternoon light out still, the terrifying possibility of the pack finding them out—it seems to be exciting in all the wrong ways.

“Derek”, he sighs, lips sensitive from beard burn. “I need—God—I need you to—to fuck me. Like. Yesterday”.

Derek's mouth descends on his neck and at the deep inhale of his arousal Stiles shivers, feeling like the teenager he used to be five years ago. “We don't have anything”.

AH! With a dramatic flourish – probably more ridiculous than dramatic. If only that Sourwolf would stop doing what he was doing with his mouth on his ne—oh. Oh, that's nice – Stiles takes out his phone from his back pocket and slips off the case. “Speak for yourself”. The small packet of KY seems to shine in their eyes, a little lost treasure, their own small miracle. “I think I have a rubber in my wallet as well”.

“Have you always had lube inside your phone case?”, Derek asks with a shocked expression. “And do we need a condom?”.

“Don't want to leak all over my underwear. Especially not around a pack of werewolves, thank you very much”. Stiles takes out a wrapper from his wallet and hands it to Derek before he resumes touching underneath the other's shirt. “And the answer is yes. From the moment we've started dating”.

They kiss, lips open and sharing breath. “Nice to know”.

“We need to—god—”. An aimed thrust sends shivers up his legs. “Derek—we need to move”.

He gets one of his hands down, slipping in the tight fit of Derek's jeans and the hard, big cock he touches through his underwear makes him moan and spread his legs as he leans back to push his hips outward. Stiles has touched it an endless number of times yet every time seems like a new experience, a new discovery.

At Stiles' touch Derek exhales, relieved and aroused. Those lean, slender fingers massage his cock with experienced motions and the grip they use after teasing it into full firmness is heaven for Derek's spurred mind. It doesn't matter if they're in the middle of the woods with a pack of werewolves only a mile away and probably listening in, the Beta can't help but await impatiently to be inside Stiles body and thrust into that heated tightness in abandonment. Maybe there's a part of him – the wild wolf that seems to constantly seek out freedom and nature – that is turned on exactly by that fact; the possibility of being found out while collecting his prize and marking his territory, his mate in the open.

The moment their jeans are undone and their erections brush against each other, Derek grabs Stiles slim hips and turns him quickly but not violently, his cheek now resting on the roughness of the bark and ass pushed back to rub on the wolf's cock. There's only their erratic panting for what feels like ages as Derek rips the lube open and then, “God, Der—Fuck me already”.

“I'm not gonna hurt you, Stiles. Especially not out here”.

“Then shove your fingers in me!”, he cries out turning at an odd angle to plead the wolf with his eyes. “Please, I need you inside. Right now. Please”.

Derek wants that. Oh, he so wants that. And from around that pale, sinewy body he can see Stiles' red dick skim slightly against the trunk of the tree. It can't be comfortable nor pleasurable and even though Stiles seems to have other things in his mind, Derek pulls his hips back a bit more to put more space between the delicate part and the pine husk. He doesn't spend much time warming up the lube and the moment his forefinger touches the puckered hole in front of him he sees Stiles jerk up before quickly settling down again. He prepared him as swiftly and efficiently as standing in the preserve half-naked would allow, Stiles moans and whimpers accompanying each thrust of his fingers.

“Please. Please, just fuck me. Just fuck me, Der”.

Through his lust-fogged mind Stiles hears Derek opening the condom wrapper and sigh deeply as he rolls it on. He wants to reach behind him and touch his shaft, feel the girth of it and its size. Wrap his fingers around it and when noticing he can't fit it all in one hand envelope it with his other one as well. He wants to feel its thickness opening him up, make him almost worry he's gonna split in two.

The first few inches are painful, they always are: Derek might not be overworldly big but he's certainly packing down there and every time he slips inside Stiles needs to relax, bear down and bite his lip until the head is in. It's what happens now, particularly because it's not the most convenient place to have sex despite the packet of lube and the arousal he gets from being so exposed to the elements. After the head is in though...that's when Stiles can remind himself why he craved it so much in the first place. Derek is inside him balls deep and at Stiles' nod he starts to move, thrust in and out. In and out. It's slow at first, careful but they do need to be quick in this situation. The aim is a bit off, the head of the hard cock pounding him simply caresses his prostate in the most heavenly torture sending abortive shivers up from his toes, shocking through his hips and reaching the tip of his own erection like an electric shock. Each thrust, each withdrawal forces moan after moan from his mouth, noises he can't control. Mumbling reaches his ears and with a small sense of amazement he notices it's him.

It's not the best sex they've had but Jesus if it's not the hottest. Derek's hand gripping his hips in a tight hold, his puckered hole contracting around the fat shaft sliding inside and out of him in pure abandonment. Derek slides closer, t-shirt covered chest shaping around Stiles' back, and the slight change of angle causes the wolf to groan in the brunet's ear. It's a sound so primal, so inborn in Derek that Stiles needs to close his eyes not to come right in that moment.

He's so close, though. So close. After getting used to Derek being inside of him without a barrier the rubber desensitises the feeling of being fucked a bit but it's not totally unpleasant; it's smoother and easier. Stiles doesn't know if it's the build-up, the idea of being out here in the forest in broad daylight or Derek's fat, big cock beating into him but he's about to come. He spreads the legs as wide as he can manage with the jeans around his knees and he almost brings his hands back to grab his cheeks and expose himself even further. He doesn't. He needs an anchor and right now the roughness of the bark on his fingertips, under his nails is the thing that keeps him grounded.

“Oh, my God. Der—Derek. Oh, God. Fuck me. Please, fuck me”.

“I am. Shit. You're gripping me so tight”.

“What if—oh, fuck. What if they see us? What if they find us?”.

Stiles senses Derek breath itch next to his ear. “Let them. You're mine. Let them see”.

Oh. My. God. Possessiveness is certainly a kink he didn't know he had. “Say that again”.

“You're mine. Let them see, I don't care. I want them to see. I want them to see you're mine”.

Oh God. Oh God, oh Godohgodohgod.

The orgasm hits him like a blinding light. His back snaps and he arches with the force of it, his cock pulsating and trembling as his cum sprays white on the dark bark. It's seemingly artistic in an erotic way. His insides constrict around Derek and through the condom he can feel his rod vibrate as his thrust become irregular. Slower. Deeper. He misses the sensation of Derek's come hitting his walls but he guesses they still have five hours if they leave now.

“Derek—shit”, Stiles pants out after they both regain their breaths, cheek still against the tree and hips still held by Derek.

“Yeah”.

“Who would've thought? Public sex is hot”.

“What the fuck guys?!”.

They both jump at the disgusted shout from behind them, Isaac currently standing there dumbstruck, hand on his eyes. “I'm gonna need bleach”.

Yeah. Maybe not as hot around a pack of werewolves.

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spookyspaghettisundae · 3 years

Text

Working Like a Charm

Sammie Smith’s body ached. Every muscle screamed to the high heavens, lamenting long hours of work, telling a tale of soreness and overexertion. He could feel how sunken his eyes must have looked but avoided rubbing them.

Numb to the layers of grit and filth from the coal mine that clung to every surface of exposed skin, his weary calloused hands burned from clutching tools for as long as he had. Still was he clutching them now, carrying his heavy shovel and pickaxe on a shoulder. Part of why “Baron” Callan had hired him—he brought his own tools to work.

The day had been entirely too damned long, he thought. His head hung low, he looked forward to crashing into his creaky old rocking chair, warming up a bowl of beans, taking a bath, and getting a good night’s sleep. Night came fast this time of year, and the day had dragged on into overtime due to a cave-in, setting them back and subjecting the workforce to Callan’s barking admonitions. At least nobody had gotten hurt in the accident.

Sammie’s feet dragged and kicked up tiny clouds as he walked the dusty road back to his home on the edge of Dead End.

His shanty little shack stood amid a copse of trees, just far away enough from the town’s center that he needed not deal with the raucous noise from the saloon or the farrier’s daily toil or other busywork in the rugged frontier town, but not so far away that it made fetching water and supplies too much of a hassle.

He tripped over something, stumbled a few steps, and caught himself before gravity could drag him down. Sammie slowly turned to look at what had snagged his boot.

A linen sack. Sopping wet and dark in color. About the size of a human head.

It took him several moments to register what he was looking at. For the realization to sink in. He lost track of time, oblivious to how long he was standing there, staring at the linen sack, piecing together why his own brain figured it to be the size of a human head, or that the stain in the coarse cloth and on the dirt around it had to be blood.

And then his mind snapped onto a decision. He did what he believed every other conscientious citizen of their fine town should do upon finding a severed head by the roadside on their way home. He kicked it away with full force, cringing at the squelching sound and how little it flew past the shrubs, heavy with fluid, and it flopped unevenly, disappearing awkwardly into the shade of the underbrush.

He had been stealing pennies from Callan and often cheated at cards. He had pissed off plenty of people around town in some of his bouts of drunken aggression, and Sammie did not want to have Sheriff Moody on his ass for accusations of a murder he did not commit.

With a heavy sigh and hoping to leave the severed head behind for wild animals and vermin to claim, he continued his way home.

Only about thirty paces away from his shack, he stopped and groaned, beginning to second-guess and regret what he had just done. If it did draw wild animals, they would be a bit too close to his hut for comfort. And leaving it there for some rascal or dog to find might just make people think he did it either way.

Branches bent and snapped as he hastily dumped his tools by the side of the dirt path and started poking around in the bush where the head in the burlap sack had rolled off to.

Sammie swore up a storm as he searched. The blood drained more and more from his head with every second, a sense of dread forming a knot in his stomach as he could not find it and began to imagine people pointing and laughing while they hanged him from the gallows.

It had not flown far. How in tarnation could he not have found it already?

Glass shattered and metal clattered, and the burst of ruckus stopped him dead in his tracks. Sammie’s head jutted over, and he craned his neck over the edge of the bushes to peer at his shack.

Someone was in there.

The murderer?

He could feel his heart pounding away as it uncomfortably pumped blood through his throbbing chest, digits, and ears. Even his belly pulsed with his festering sense of fear.

Straining his eyes to see inside the darkness behind the small and shoddy windows of his cabin, he could not make out anybody in there. Eagerly awaiting a motion to make itself noticed.

He licked his parched lips and returned to his tools, keeping his eyes trained on his home. He ducked down, pawing at the first wooden shaft his hands found purchase on, then gripped the pickaxe in both hands.

Step by step, careful to not make too much sound as he approached, he drew his axe up high above his head, ready to swing it and kill if need be.

The closer he drew to the shabby front door of his cabin, the more subtle sounds he perceived from inside: scratching, followed by a man’s clipped cough, followed by wooden objects scraping against each other, followed by what sounded like someone smacking their lips—

Sammie arrived by the door. His heart throbbed with such pounding force that it felt like it was trying to escape every orifice, trying to drown out every little noise.

He kicked the door and started swearing once the sensation of the jolt reached his ankle and knee—the door just rattled in its hinges, refusing to yield anything but additional pain in his already sore leg. He lost balance and stumbled away, using the pickaxe to brace himself from falling, skidding across the dirt.

Whoever had invaded his home did not react to his fumbling around outside. Still sounded like someone was eating in there.

Was this rat bastard eating his jerky supplies?

The fury welling up in his gut—being stolen from, being possibly framed for murder, making a fool of himself in failing to kick his own door open, frustrated by the ghoulish foreman and “Baron” at work, being too tired for any of this—somehow eclipsed his fear.

Fuming, Sammie ripped the door open, gripping the pickaxe in one hand, knowing it might as well just scare off the scoundrel to show he could drive the pick right through him if he started messing around.

One step beyond the threshold, he froze.

Faint light from the setting sun poured in through the cabin’s small windows, revealing a cloud of dust motes to be dancing in the rays. The smell of feces and vomit lingered in the air, like someone had dragged the horse trough from outside the saloon into here.

A stranger sat at his table, eating. Eating what looked to be shards of glass in one of Sammie’s wooden bowls. The stranger smacked his lips and the glass crunched between his teeth as he chewed, with rivulets of blood trickling down his chin. He looked like he had once sported a dapper black suit and jacket, like someone far more well off than Sammie—like a businessman from Louisville—but myriads of dark spots and dust marred his attire, like he had been rolling around in the dirt and human refuse.

And his hands were slick and shiny with crimson. His fingers looked way too thin at the tips, all pointy and narrow, mismatched with the rest of his meaty palms.

The stranger met Sammie’s horrified gaze with an air of confounded indifference about him, idly crunching down on the glass being ground down between his teeth. His eerily thin fingertips gingerly grabbed another shard from the pile of broken bottles in the bowl in front of him and guided it to his mouth.

He opened his mouth and revealed a nightmare of blood and shiny jagged bits, teeth painted in black and red.

The pickaxe landing on the floorboards with a heavy thud helped Sammie break out of his trance. All semblance of fatigue had escaped his weary body and he now felt lightheaded, his stomach churning and turning upside down like it needed to expel his meager lunch, and his knees buckled for a split second before he braced himself against the frame of his front door.

The stranger stopped chewing. Swallowed with visible effort and a loud gulping sound to accompany it. Coughed, choked, gurgled. Swallowed again.

He tilted his head and stared Sammie in the eyes. Piercing, unblinking. Uncaring of the blood dripping from his own chin.

“I—”

The glass-eater spoke and coughed. He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I, too, have discovered, that poring over the secret pages of Doyle, I sometimes feel the distant spirit of God,” said the glass-eater. Blood bubbled from between his lips and stilted his otherwise eerily calm manner of speaking. “On the whole, our questions are quickly eaten by the—by the—”

His words trailed off. His gaze remained fixed upon Sammie, going blank.

“W-who? Who are you?” Sammie finally asked.

He wanted to crouch down and snatch the pickaxe back up, but it was all too weird. The stranger, this glass-eater, had clearly lost his mind, but he was not threatening him in any way. Just sitting there with a calm that did not match the damage he was doing to himself in eating all those glass shards.

The glass-eater blinked, finally, reminding Sammie of a human. His focus returned; his gaze hardened again.

“Who are you?” the glass-eater echoed him, almost mimicking his tone.

Was that a mockery?

Sammie almost shook his head as much as his mind told him that was not the case. The glass-eater had repeated his question more like children learning how to speak by mimicking the words of adults they heard spoken.

He swallowed the dry lump of coal dust and grit and fear that had lodged itself into his parched throat and started thinking differently.

Maybe this glass-eater fellow needed help.

“You don’t look alright, man,” said Sammie. “I can get you a doc. You want me to get you a doc?”

Glass-eater tilted his head the other way and did not answer the question. Instead, without breaking eye contact, he picked up another shard and brought it to his lips, parting them and inserting it into his bloodied jaws.

Crunch, crunch.

“You, uh, you know where you at? This is my home,” Sammie said. “I can get you—I will go get a doc, alright?”

Crunch. Crunch. Dead stare.

“Maybe, uhm, stop eatin’ all that—uh, all that glass?”

Crunch. Staring unbroken.

“I will go find the doc,” Sammie said, walking out of his cabin without turning his back, not daring to turn until he had distanced himself from the door by several slow and careful paces, as one should in the presence of a beast in the wild.

Slowly peeling his gaze from their unnervingly long eye contact, he shot a glance over his shoulder every few steps, making sure that the crazy man still sat there and did not just jump up from the chair and give chase.

Instead, he continued to calmly eat more of the broken glass. With growing distance, Sammie could not hear those blackened teeth crunching down on the shards. He merely heard the haunting echo of it in his mind.

Crunch, crunch. Crunch.

His pace accelerated and he nearly jogged the last bit towards the rows of buildings that constituted Dead End’s main street. Bumped right into someone, nearly falling onto his ass as he stumbled sideways past the next person.

A man in black, standing tall, the powder of the trails sticking to a long duster coat. U.S. Marshal’s star on his belt, two six-shooters slung into holsters hanging from a belt around his hips. A visage featuring a symmetry broken up only by a milky-white eye, framed by a scar speaking volumes of a beast’s claw raking over the lawman’s face.

The marshal’s one good eye scanned Sammie up and down while he caught himself. Sammie nearly soiled his pants right then and there, at the mere thought of all the trouble he might get into if this lawman got on his case and misunderstood the situation somehow. Just find the doctor, now, and—

“What in the hell is wrong with you, son?” asked the marshal with a growl. “You look like you seen a ghost.”

He tipped his hat at Sammie and hooked a thumb into his belt, demonstratively flapping open one side of his coat to display the badge and one of his revolvers.

“O-oh, uh, it's—it’s, uh, it's—uhm, it’s nothin’, sir,” stammered Sammie. “Jus’ lookin’ for a, uh, physician, bit of a personal medical ‘mergency?”

He silently cursed himself for being such a bumbling coward, now of all times. Swallowed another lump stuck in this throat. His heart now pounded as fiercely as it had when he found the severed head.

Shit. The severed head.

Sammie had nearly forgotten about that.

The marshal took a step closer towards him and lowered his voice to what could only be described as a conspiratorial whisper, “Listen, I know there are strange things goin’ on in this town. You lead me to 'em, I oughtta have a shot at fixin’ these things somehow.”

He rolled his jaw and then set it while he awaited a response from Sammie. Sammie’s mind and thoughts however melted into a puddle of worthless soup.

Sammie blurted out the words, “Ah, shit, m-man—uh, I mean, uh—I-I need your h-help, sir.” He then lowered his voice to a desperately pleading hiss. “There’s some crazy man in my house. H-he's—he’s eatin’ glass, man. And talkin’ weird.”

He could get to the head later. Or maybe that would never come up.

Sammie held his breath, ready to soon be staring down the wrong end of one of those revolvers.

Instead, the marshal nodded and ordered, “Show me.”

He led the lawman back down the trail. Noticed a whiff of something dead and rotten about him, leaving him to wonder if something was not off about the marshal, as well. At the very least, Sammie hoped, that might throw him off from noticing a head in the sack out in the bushes nearby. Then he wondered if it was even a human head in there, as he had never bothered to look inside. Then he quietly scolded himself to shut about it already, like he might draw attention to the bloody linen sack if he thought too much about it.

Approaching the cabin, hasty step by step, he expected to find the glass-eater missing and putting him in the predicament of having to explain things. Things like this did not happen. Should not happen.

Some part of him dreamt that this was just a nightmare, and he was about to wake up anytime soon. No such luck, though. His body still ached from the day, the sun set on the horizon, and every step hurt his blistered right heel. It was all too real.

Like a dream, he hoped to cross that threshold and find no sign of the glass-eater. To find everything in its rightful place, to wonder if he was just losing his own damned mind.

But Sammie froze by the door. The stranger still sat there, gingerly picking up another shard of glass, bringing it to those bloodied split lips and the crimson fluids running down his chin in rivulets, and then chewing on the shard.

Crunch, crunch. For some reason, it reminded Sammie of bones now. Like this was the sound that bones made when something ate them. Snapping, cracking, crunching.

Crunch. Crunch.

A calloused hand clapped down on Sammie’s shoulder, tearing him out of this new daze of his. The marshal squeezed his shoulder for a second and then pushed past him, stepping inside the cabin.

“Sir?” the marshal asked. “This your home?”

Even with his back turned to Sammie, the marshal’s presence was imposing. All dressed in black and looking weathered, it was like he absorbed all the remnants of light in these gloomy cramped quarters, like he had a strange inverse halo about him where all light bent and gathered around him.

Crunch, crunch.

The glass-eater tilted his head again, just like he had when speaking with Sammie.

“Yes, of course this is my home,” the stranger spoke, another bubble forming between his tortured lips.

Unfazed by his condition and what all those shards must have been doing to his—in his—

Sammie fought the urge to throw up at the thought. The marshal cast an inquisitive glance over his shoulder, catching Sammie’s gaze. For a moment, he worried if he had to argue about some crazy man walking onto his property and getting other people to testify that this was, in fact his home.

The marshal did not question it, though, instead turned his attention right back to the glass-eater.

“All under the sky is my home, now, as we awaken, sea, by sea,” said the stranger, cementing what the lawman must have instinctively grasped. “You are a child of the mountains. I am the ocean.”

His thin fingers—and only now, somehow, as it grew darker, did it dawn on Sammie what was so off-putting about them—grabbed another shard from the bowl. His fingers looked the way they did because all the skin and nails from their tips had been flayed off somehow. Just bloodied skeletal husks of what they must have been, thinning towards the tips.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

“That so?” asked the marshal. He shot another glance at Sammie, his brow arched.

The marshal knew. He understood the insanity of this situation. The madness of that man.

To the glass-eater, he then added, “You touch any… strange objects lately, sir?”

Crunch, crunch.

“You involved on the rail work between here and Louisville?”

Crunch.

The glass-eater tilted his head again. More blood trickled from the corner of his sealed lips. His eyes sparkled with something strange in the dying light.

Crunch.

“You even remember a name anymore?”

Crunch. Crunch, crunch.

The glass-eater grabbed another shard, not breaking eye contact with the marshal.

“My name is the many, and my song is the return. I am the ocean,” he finally replied, putting particular emphasis on the word “am”. It echoed in Sammie’s mind.

The marshal violently expelled air from his nostrils, something in between a sigh and a groan.

“Shit,” he said.

In a flash, loud claps of gunshots pierced the air. The stinging smell of gunpowder soon hit Sammie’s nostrils. The deafening noise startled Sammie, sending him reeling, stumbling backwards, away from the eruptions of muzzle flashes brightly illuminating the gloomy cabin for split seconds. Then another volley of shots ripped, fired from both revolvers, one in each hand of the marshal.

The glass-eater dropped the shard into the bowl and looked down at his chest, now pockmarked with pitch-black bleeding bullet holes. He probed one of the wounds with those skeletal fingertips, almost in disbelief. Not trembling with fear or weakness—no—with a certainty that seemed wholly unnatural.

More thunderclaps, more shots released from the revolvers until both weapons had been emptied through repeated fire. The glass-eater slumped over the table, the wooden bowl with the glass hurtled to the floor where the shards sprayed in every direction with high-pitched clinking, and the stranger stopped moving.

Frozen in shock, Sammie knew not what to do.

Why in God’s name had he just shot the man?

“Too late to save that poor bastard. Too far gone,” the marshal growled, followed by another sigh; almost as if he had read Sammie’s mind and responded to his thought.

The floorboards thumped and thundered, and spurs jingled, as the marshal strode through the narrow cabin’s interior, closing in on the dead body of the glass-eater. He poked him with the smoking barrel of one of his pistols, then used it to lift the lifeless head and ensure the stranger had expired. A veritable vomit of blood poured out from the dead man’s half-open mouth.

Still dumbfounded and with a panic budding deep down, Sammie was only moments removed from running away and looking for help. Because now he feared the marshal again, perhaps far more than ever before.

What if he found the head? Blamed it on him? Blamed glass-eater on him Gunned him down without question? Without trial?

The thoughts circled at the speed of a hundred miles a minute, but they also rooted him firmly in place while the marshal’s eyes scanned Sammie’s meager possessions around the cabin. Then their eyes met again.

“You hold on, sir,” the marshal said, taking a step towards him. “I will get this mess cleaned up, lickety-split. Damn shame he had to ruin your home like that. And I reckon I, uh—I apologize for the holes I put into your back wall.”

He had already holstered the guns, which had happened so quickly that Sammie never registered it. He wanted to back away, but now dreaded seeing those guns flash right back out, giving him the same treatment of judge, jury, and executioner, all in one.

Instead, the marshal dug around in his duster and produced a silver amulet. Its shape looked foreign, odd—not a crucifix, not a locket, not a pocket watch—before he could discern its precise form, the marshal clutched it firmly in his fist and whispered something incomprehensible.

A warm light flared up in the cabin for a split second. The stench of rotten eggs suddenly filled the air, adding to Sammie’s nausea. And he heard something fidget in there, just out of sight. The marshal looked at a corner—focused on something just out of sight for Sammie. He only needed to step inside to follow his gaze, but—

Something held him back. Something in there had appeared out of nowhere, and it unsettled him deeply. Made his mind race even faster, so fast he could not form a single coherent thought.

“You clean up here, alright?” the marshal spoke to whoever was in the corner.

Pause. Scratching sounds.

“No, we will not discuss this now. Just clean it up, and we can bicker later,” the marshal said, responding to seemingly nothing.

Another long pause, more scratching sounds. Someone else was in there. Or something.

The marshal walked outside the front door, paused, swiveled, and closed the door behind him. He cracked a feeble smile at Sammie, something that screamed of dishonesty. Or perhaps pain. Or regret.

Sammie did not know what to do. He had to tell others about this. Get word out. They might think he was crazy, but if the marshal was truly crazier than him and the glass-eater combined, then he might find protection in numbers. Hell, maybe even that useless sheriff might help cover him if the going got rough.

The marshal lifted the amulet to eye height between them and then let it drop. It dangled from its silvery chain and Sammie tried to study it as it swung back and forth.

Up close, it looked like a long, steel cylinder, roughly the length of half his pinky finger. Reddened grooves coiled around it at rhythmically pleasing intervals, and strange symbols etched into the side formed a harmonic pattern all over its surface. The symbols reminded him of arithmetic, for some reason, though Sammie was illiterate.

“Look at the amulet, sir,” said the marshal, his voice now flat and calm. Almost soothing. “Next thing you know, all these worries o’ yours will be wiped away.”

Another flash of light. Next thing Sammie knew, he was walking down main street, in Dead End. No recollection of anything that had just transpired.

His body ached. Every muscle in him complained about the long day of toil behind him. He just yearned to sink into a bath and wash off all the grit and filth from the coal mine. His weary calloused hands burned from clutching the pickaxe and shovel that he carried on his shoulder. His tired gait gained more zest as he veered off to the side, taking the open spot between the buildings and following the dirt path back to his cabin.

The day had been entirely too damn long, he thought. His head hung low, he looked forward to crashing into his creaky old rocking chair, warming up a bowl of beans, taking a bath, and getting a good night’s rest.

Night had somehow come faster than it should have, he reckoned. They had worked late, but he must have been so tired that he did not realize how fast the sun set on his way home.

Must have just been that time of year.

Sammie’s feet dragged and kicked up tiny clouds as he walked the dusty road back to his home on the edge of Dead End.

He did not trip over anything this time. He did not notice anything amiss in his cabin when he plunked down his tools on the table and looked around for some jerky to bite. He went about the rest of his evening. Oblivious to what had happened here earlier.

Something had reached deep inside his mind and scrubbed it clean. No head, no glass-eater, no marshal, no shooting, no talisman. Just some missing time he could explain away.

The marshal’s talisman worked like a charm.

—Submitted by Wratts

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