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jjksblackgf · 2 years

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me and mr. jung | jhs (m)

My embarkation ticket to The Seven Seas Collab hosted by @ressjeon. The deep blue waters can be just as messy as solid ground.

pairing — investor!hoseok x singer!reader summary — Looking to diversify his investments, Jung Hoseok decides that cruise ships are the way to go. To get the lay of the land, he embarks on a promising ship, where one of the beautiful performers has his attention immediately. genre — smut, fluff (ish), forbidden love, love at first sight au rate — 18+ word count — 7.2k warnings — explicit sexual content, pov switch, alcohol intake, power dynamics, masturbation (f), unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating if you squint. author’s note — this fic had so many plot changes, y'all 😭 Alas, it's here with all it's glory. Shoutout to Yannie for putting together this amazing collab, and for brainstorming with me <3 And yes, there will be a part two in the future.

The indigo blue stress ball was at its last leg in Hoseok’s hands. He sat behind his mahogany desk, listening to his financial adviser babble about his personal portfolio. He’d seriously considered spiking his cup, but no amount of bourbon on his coffee could make this meeting interesting.

“Listen, Derek,” Hoseok started, “As much as I love talking about money with you, we’ll have to finish this another time. I have another meeting to attend.”

“Oh, of course, Mr. Jung,” Derek said apologetic, already getting up from his seat. “I’ll reschedule with your secretary.”

With Derek out of his office, Hoseok could finally roll his eyes and take a deep breath. How his father managed to get by day in and day out in this company was a mystery. Taking a short minute to rest, he placed his elbows on his desk, looking at a photo of him and his father. His mom took it on a trip to Disneyland when he was five. With big Mickey Mouse ears, and a smile that looked soldered to his face, all Hoseok wanted was to be like his father. He was sitting on his father’s lap, and the picture looked a little blurred, like he’d be jumping up and down, too excited to sit still.

Many times over the years, Hoseok would come to this very office and see this picture that never left his father’s desk. When dad was in a meeting, he would sit on his leather chair and pretend to make important calls, sometimes indulged by dad’s secretary. All that little boy dreamed about was to be important like his father and make him really proud.

If he only knew then about the boring meetings with stuck-up business associates, and the bootlicking, barely competent employees, maybe he’d rethink his decision to be a hedge fund manager. Yes, he did get the fun part of dressing in tailored suits every day, but the fun would end there most of the time.

Even with a boring job, Hoseok hadn’t noticed that he’d become a workaholic just like his father. Getting home too late to cook dinner, leaving too early for a proper breakfast, eating lunch at a restaurant every day. How does one become a workaholic with such a boring job? Boring job, but having a talent with numbers. Boring job, but being trained by his Ivy League education. Boring job, but being able to accurately predict the market for his clients. Boring job, but fulfilling his own dreams and his father’s dreams. Boring job, nonetheless.

“Amanda,” Hoseok called through the speaker, “Please reschedule my agenda for this afternoon, I’ll take the rest of the day off.”

“Yes, sir. What should I tell them?”

“Just make up an excuse. Once you’re done with that, take the day off as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hoseok didn’t give a second thought to his decision, just grabbing his coat and wallet before leaving. His apartment was the only place that came to his mind at that moment. No place else sounded interesting enough.

Turning the keys to his apartment, the first thing he noticed was the mail, piling up on top of his foyer’s accent table. He took them to his couch, determined to sort them out today. He didn’t have anything to do anyway. But by bill number three, he’d given up, laying down and whining into the cushions.

Too many thoughts, too many decisions to make. Should he change his career? If yes, would that tarnish his father’s memory? Would his mom think of him as a traitor? What else was he good at? If he was going to stir the pot, it would have to be something he’s really good at, right? His mind gave him no rest, yet somehow he managed to fall asleep.

Three hours later, his body still felt tired. Hoseok opened his eyes, his gray walls looking like an infinity pool. He had promised himself to buy some art as soon as possible when he moved in. Yet another chore that got pushed back to make room for meetings. He didn’t know if the sun was still up, but the pink hues of the sky clued him in.

Through his peripheral vision, he spotted something colorful on the floor. It was a little too distracting to his eyes. He was still a little disoriented, a little sleepy, but the colorless apartment helped his search.

With blue and gold letters, an invitation.

Sweet Night Cruise Line would like to formally invite Mr. Jung Hoseok to embark on his next business adventure…

The plane from New York to Lisbon went like a blessing. No screaming babies, no dogs, no fighting couple one seat behind, no chatty passenger by his side, he even slept through the whole 7 hours. A first for this Jung. The flight from Lisbon to Málaga went much the same, fairly empty for a Friday afternoon. Hoseok wanted to take this as a good sign.

But the real showstopper was provided by Mr. Kim, sending a limousine for the one hour drive from the airport to the pier. To take the fastest route, the driver avoided the coast, driving through a small highway. He regretted he didn’t get to see much of Málaga, but that went away as they reached Venus Beach. From his window he could see the locals and tourists enjoying the beach views restaurants. He’d promised himself to come back here before his “business trip” ended.

With a keycard in hand and his luggage being delivered to his cabin, Hoseok followed the young concierge escorting him to Mr. Kim, who was hosting a crew member party before the guests arrived the following day.

“Hoseok, look at you all grown up!” Mr. Kim said, coming to greet him at the deck. Hoseok laughed as they shook hands.

“It’s been too long, Mr. Kim. I hope everything is going well,” Even if not fond of small talk, Hoseok always knew to be polite to everyone, especially to his father's close friends.

“They certainly are. Here, have some champagne,” Mr. Kim offered, waving at a nearby waiter. “If you’re not a party man, Hoseok, my crew will most certainly make one out of you,”

“I can imagine, this is looking impressive!” The party was already a rave. Cameras flashed everywhere, and the music was not awful, vanilla jazz like at his office. That already set them apart from the office crowd he knew. The canapés were to die for, the bottles of champagne just kept on coming, and he couldn’t quite see from that far, but he thought he saw some guys setting up a karaoke machine.

“There’s no crew party like Sweet Night’s. Here, let me introduce you to our staff captain.” Mr. Kim guided him towards a tall man. His black hair was carefully pushed back, and he wasn’t wearing his uniform, or anything super formal for that matter, just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow and gray slacks. He noticed Mr. Kim was also dressed like the captain, just with blue and black variations of colors. He immediately regretted his choice of dressing in a three-piece suit.

“Hoseok, this is our Staff Captain and my nephew Kim Namjoon,” Mr. Kim introduced, “Namjoon, this is Jung Hoseok, a dear friend of mine, and possibly a future investor. He’ll be staying with us for the first half of our trip.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jung, I’m very pleased to have you aboard. I’m sure you’ll find our accommodations to your taste,”

“Thank you and please call me Hoseok. I’m already feeling like an old overdressed man, and I’m not even 30 yet.” Hoseok joked and they politely laughed.

“Nonsense, you’re dressed just fine. You have good taste in tailoring,” Mr. Kim encouraged. “Would you like a short tour of the ship? I’ll give you a proper guide as the week progresses.”

“Sure, let’s go.”

Mr. Kim showed very little of each floor. He started by going down two levels and introducing the restaurant and dining hall. As soon as the elevator doors opened, he could see the massive staircase leading to the level above it. The walnut wood was delicately carved into banisters and chairs, probably the tables too. The tables were set with cream colored linens, complimenting the blue curtains and the deep brown of the chairs.

Going up a level, he could feel the mood switch. The stage perfectly fitted the space. What Hoseok assumed was a dancing floor, was surrounded by small black tables with four seats each, and two circular bars, with at least fifteen seats. The stage was currently tinted with blue light. It had a piano with a 50’s microphone by the side, with two more on the back. The bars were impressive, each with many LED panels on the back and glass shelves by the sides holding many brands of different liquors.

“This place is bigger than what it looks like right now,” The nephew explained. His deep voice made an echo as they left the empty room. “I would suggest for you to come tomorrow night. It’s 50’s themed, we’re expecting for the dance floor to be full.”

“I’ll certainly come,” Hoseok promised, even though it didn’t sound that promising, as the elevator doors closed behind them.

“And we reach full circle,” Mr. Kim finished the tour. They reached back to the deck, where a big pool and two bars were located. Getting familiarized with the deck, Hoseok looked around, before locking eyes with a familiar face. He knew her from somewhere. He looked puzzled at her, and the woman looked puzzled back. Then realization hit him as they walked closer.

“Daena?” he asked, unsure if it was really her or not. A childhood friend, someone he hasn’t seen in at least 15 years. He saw her last at a pool party at her parents mansion, the summer before 8th grade. Her father was his father’s closest friend in the business world. They’d become attached at the hip for years before Hoseok went to a boarding school in Switzerland.

“Hoseok?” she asked back. When he smiled as a yes, she ran to his embrace. Her hug was as tight as he remembered and she still wore the same floral perfume.

“I’d wager you two know each other,” Mr. Kim joked, and they laughed, pulling away from the hug.

“Yeah, since we were kids, actually. Our fathers were close,” Daena explained, stroking Hoseok’s arm gently. Even if time drove them apart, Daena would know that his father’s passing would always be a sore spot for Hoseok.

“Ms. Daena, I don’t think I introduced you to our staff captain. This is my nephew Kim Namjoon,” Mr. Kim introduced them, and Hoseok noticed as she got shy. Her smile was curt and didn’t reach her eyes. They only nodded to each other.

“What are you doing here anyway, you workaholic?” Daena asked Hoseok, teasing him with a slap to his shoulder. “Don’t you have a country to buy or something?”

“I’m actually here as a possible investor, thank you very much,” Hoseok indulged her teasing, putting his hands on his pockets and leaning forward.

“A powerful man never stops working, I imagine,” she said tantalizingly.

“Hoseok is a man that knows how to work hard while playing harder,” Mr. Kim joined in their banter. He continued to explain how Hoseok’s visit would take place, but Hoseok was too far gone to pay attention.

Only 10 feet away, standing by one of the bars with a drink in her hand, there was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her skin glowed and contrasted with the pink and orange shades of the sunset, as if she spent the last week being pampered by the sun. She was laughing with her friends, her summer dress flowing with the soft breeze, but still clinging to her figure. She looked well rested, her face showing nothing but enthusiasm and curiosity.

Her lips looked soft and inviting as he noticed the shimmer of her lip gloss. What a smile.

Hoseok wanted to know that woman. He wanted to know if she smelled of fresh gardenias like he was imagining. Her eyes glistened as she spoke to her friends, and he could tell they were entranced. Must’ve been an interesting story. Or she could just be saying some bullshit. He wouldn’t judge her friends for being hypnotized. It wasn’t their fault. He turns to his group, already engrossed in another conversation, yet he wasn’t ashamed to interrupt their discussion.

“Excuse me, who is that woman in the pink dress over there?”

“Oh, that’s Y/N, she’s one of our performers. She has a lovely voice.” The nephew, whose name he would make a note to remember, answered.

“I’m sure she does.” He could no longer take his eyes off of her. He felt Daena nudge him in the ribs with her elbows, but he didn’t care if she was going to tease him.

The singer was sipping a delicate looking drink. Maybe a Cosmo? Cranberry vodka? But that was only an afterthought. Hoseok was mesmerized by her body. Her shoulders were exposed, and that already made him salivate. Let alone the curves of her breasts, peeking through the opening of her cleavage. Her legs were another thing entirely; a central feature in Hoseok’s mind. They would be the star of his imagination for many days to come. Her beautiful feet were adorned with delicate heels, with thin straps that swirled around her calves. Sexy. Beautiful. Hot. Goddess.

“Do you want to meet the crew?” Mr. Kim asked, and Hoseok snapped out of his trance.

“If that’s not too much,” Hoseok agreed, trying his best to not break into a victory dance.

The soft wind shifted in their direction, and with it came the most delicate sweet scent. It had to be her perfume, no questions about it. Once they reached her, Hoseok had to concentrate very hard to not drool at her feet.

“Ms. Y/N,” Mr. Kim called, “This is Jung Hoseok, he’s a dear friend and he’ll be our guest for the first leg of our trip.”

“Hello,” she said, and Hoseok felt like he could melt right there. Was that shimmering bells he heard when she spoke? “Is very nice to meet you, Mr. Jung.” she offered her hand with that kilowatt smile. Concentrating very hard in forbidding the excitement in his stomach to travel to his pants, Hoseok shook her hand with both of his. Better to focus on her soft hands instead of the thrill he felt when she called him Mr. Jung.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Hoseok almost whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“And this is Ms. Lee Daena, another dear friend and our guest,” Mr. Kim intervened.

“Is very nice to meet you, Ms. Lee,” Hoseok was completely hypnotized, only looking at Y/N as she spoke to Daena. The softest voice. The sexiest voice. The reincarnation of Aphrodite herself.

“Please, call me Daena,” she said, shaking the hand Y/N extended. Daena also pinched Hoseok’s arm and whispered “Get your shit together.” He didn’t.

“I heard you have a lovely voice,” Hoseok complimented Y/N. Anything to distract the butterflies in his stomach. If it was anything like her speaking voice, Hoseok could only imagine the hold she had on the other guests.

“That’s what I hear too, but I don’t think I can agree that much,” she said with humility.

“Maybe I’ll just have to hear it and judge for myself, then,” Hoseok teased, focusing on keeping a smirk off his face.

“I guess that would be best,” she agreed, and her eyes sparkled. Hoseok couldn’t help but pay attention to the beauty of her face now that he could see it up close. Her cheeks looked as soft as her hands. He wanted to see it for himself. He almost slipped in his composure. Maybe some other time.

“Well, let me introduce you to the rest of the staff,” Mr. Kim said, taking Hoseok off his trance again.

Mr. Kim was right about the crew party. There would be no other like this. The food kept coming, along with the champagne. He was partly expecting to see a beer keg somewhere, and he had to remind himself he wasn’t at a college party in the 90’s. The karaoke was set at a makeshift stage, and various staff members took their turns. Hoseok also expected for Y/N to go up there and sing too, but she kept her place amongst her friends.

Hoseok was torn the entire night. He knew he was on vacation, but to everyone else he was a guest. And to stare at a staff member was wildly inappropriate. But he couldn’t help it, she was just too magnetic. She was probably a siren, taking him off his normal routes and alluring him to his death. Hoseok fidgeted the entire time he was accompanying Mr. Kim as they made the rounds. Every now and then, he’d look at her direction like a lunatic.

“Stop staring or go talk to her. Either way, stop squirming like a little boy,” Daena whispered by his side, only playfully annoyed.

“First of all, I’m not staring, I’m just making business observations about the deck. Second of all, not while Mr. Kim is looking,” Hoseok whispered back.

“Afraid of getting caught, Mr. Boy Scout? Not much wild in you, huh?”

“Stop talking like that. We’re not in the 60’s,” Hoseok hissed, and she chuckled. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Just because,” she said, shrugging. “Don’t worry about that. I'll distract Mr. Kim now, make a run for it.” Daena offered and immediately started an animated conversation with Mr. Kim. Hoseok didn’t waste time, and in seconds he was at Y/N’s side.

“I thought I was going to see you sing tonight at the karaoke,” he said, making her turn to look at him.

“I thought I could give the other a fighting chance,” she answered, taking the last sip of her drink.

“What if I was Ebony and you were Ivory?” he joked, and she snorted, rolling her eyes. “Maybe some Endless Love if you’re feeling really corny.”

“Oh, that would be just fantastic. But between you and me, I don’t know if you can hold an E-flat,” she teased, leaning into him.

“Try me,” he leaned forward too, whispering the words to her. He looked into her curious eyes, and for a moment he forgot where they were. Her cheeks looked tempting again, but they were overshadowed by her lips, plump and soft, almost parted for a kiss. He leaned even more, throwing caution to the wind.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” someone asked by their side. A tall male, one of her friends, stood there with his hands in his pockets. Y/N corrected her posture, and Hoseok was quick to do the same. The friend looked suspiciously at Hoseok, before doing the same to Y/N.

“Yes, I’m ready,” she announced, grabbing her phone and adjusting her hair. “Have a good night, Mr. Jung.” she said politely.

“Have a good night, Y/N.”

A lot of mantras went by Y/N’s head during the past three weeks. Ignore the way he’s looking at me. Do not bite your lip right now. Stop imagining yourself on your knees. Stop staring at his lips. Dating a guest is wrong. Dating a guest is wrong. Dating a guest is wrong. They all seemed worthless in the end. She could only listen to the last one.

“Again, another great set,” Hoseok complimented, reaching for her hand. She took it as she walked down the stairs by the side of the rehearsing stage. Ignore the way it feels when he holds your hand. If he could only read her mind… “You do know how to put a setlist together.”

“Well, thank you,” Y/N said, “I am a fan of the 70’s, so I had to go all out.”

“You say you’re a fan of the 70’s and yet I see no Bee Gees in there,” Hoseok teased.

“That’s because I actually have a personality.”

“Oh really? With all that ABBA? You say I don’t have a personality, but if you really want to talk about something generic…” Hoseok continued, shrugging his shoulders.

Y/N gasped, pulling her hands off of his to playfully slap his arms multiple times. “You did not just call ABBA generic!”

“I’m sorry,” he laughed freely, trying to avoid her hits.

“Just when I was starting to like you, and you say stuff like this,” Y/N whined, crossing her arms. She pouted, shaking her head. She thought she was looking pathetic, but anything to flirt with him.

“Aw, look at you pouting,” Hoseok whined, teasing her. “Would you forgive me if I apologized?” he said softly, stroking her arm with one hand, grabbing her chin with the other. She let him guide her eyes to him, and he smiled softly.

“Maybe,” she encouraged him, maybe batting her eyelashes a little. He squinted his eyes when he saw the playful smile on her lips.

“I’m sorry for thinking ABBA is boring and generic,” he said mockingly, a big smile plastered on his lips.

“Because they are influential to pop music to this day,” she said, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m not saying that,” he countered, with the bickering yet defying voice he always had.

“Yes, you are,” she chanted, her smile only getting bigger. She thought he would be used to it now. It’s not like that was the first time he made fun of her musical taste.

“Because they are influential to pop music to this day,” he said, sighing heavily after.

“How did that taste like?” she asked, already knowing he hated saying those words.

“Like vinegar,” he frowned. “So, am I forgiven?” he probed.

“Yes, you are,” she said softly.

“That’s good,” he whispered. She then felt Hoseok caress her cheek, ever so tenderly. His thumb left her chin and grazed her jaw, before his hand traveled to her neck.

She took in a sharp breath. No one was around to witness any of that, Y/N was always careful to talk to him without anyone around. She wanted this to be the moment where she finally gave in to her desires. To finally kiss his lips, that looked so soft and inviting. He leaned forward, his nose touching hers, his sweet breath hitting her face.

“We can’t,” she whispered. He took a deep breath, but he didn’t move an inch away from her.

“Why not?”

“You’re a guest,” she started, “And I could-”

“Don’t think of me as a guest,” Hoseok interrupted, taking a step back to look into her eyes.

“I don’t have any other way to see it,” she continued, shrugging, “I can’t jeopardize my job like this.”

“You won’t,” Hoseok said, taking her hand back in his. “I kind of work here anyway, so you should think of me as a coworker.” He insisted and she laughed nervously.

“I can’t, that’s not what you are. You are a guest, and possibly my future boss. My love life needs to be separate!”

“I get that, I really do,” Hoseok sighed. “I’m sorry for putting you in this position, I’m not thinking clearly.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said, kindly. She sighed and he joined her. Maybe if her decisions existed in a bubble, where one couldn’t interfere with the other…

“In the spirit of being honest, I just wanted you to know that I find you really attractive,” Hoseok said, sounding apologetic. “And I see that it was very unprofessional of me to put you in this position, and I respect your decision. And when I was flirting with you, I thought you were flirting back. It’s my mistake that I-”

“I was flirting back,” she whispered, not wanting him to apologize for something she also had a hand in.

“Okay then,” Hoseok sighed. She looked deeply into his eyes. She could feel the sorrow being expressed in her own face. “I really wanted to kiss you,” he said softly, “and maybe do some other stuff too,” he continued jokingly, and she chuckled.

“I really wanted to kiss you too,” she reassured him.

“So it’s a no to the other stuff?” he teased, making her roll her eyes. “If you change your mind…”

“You’ll be the first one to know,” she promised.

Y/N spent the rest of the day in her cabin, thinking about Hoseok. She was starting to regret her stupid, stupid decision to not kiss him. His lips were right there, no more than an inch apart with his hand at her neck. All she had to do was lift her chin a little to reach paradise. The lips she had been dreaming about for weeks. She could finally pull his hair and moan to his lips. So what if she was going to lose her job? She could always find another one. She would not find another set of arms that she would like to be in. At least not this much. The arms that would pull her to his chest, maybe even squeeze her hips.

But that door was closed. It needed to be.

Laying down on her small bed, she closed her eyes and traced all the memories she had of his hands with her own. Those damn hands. The way he touched her neck with just the tip of his fingers, his thumb caressing her cheek and jaw. He was driving her to insanity. His hands would also caress her arms, tender strokes that she wanted to feel in every inch of her body.

She wished he was there with her. She wished she could guide his hands through her body. If he was going to drive her to insanity, at least drive her to orgasm too. Too worked up to look back, she imagined his hands cupping her breasts. Her breath caught, and she felt her nipples getting hard through the fabric of her dress.

She also wanted him to touch her thighs. His palm would travel up and down her legs, before settling at her hips. She quickly pulled down her underwear, not wanting to lose the momentum of her imagination. She also wanted him to kiss her inner thighs, but her fingers would do for the moment. Moving up and down softly through her inner thighs, she whispered his name.

Her fingers reached her folds, and she hissed once she realized the pool that formed. Slowly circling her clit, she moaned his name again and again. She imagined what his lips would feel like. She wanted to grip his hair for him to stay put, and his tongue would go up and down per her request.

Her fingers picked up the pace, and she curled the sheet with her free hand. She wanted to feel him moan against her cunt, beg for him to suck her clit. The knot in her stomach got tighter and tighter, and she couldn’t control herself anymore. She moaned his name again, loudly this time, as the climax reached her body.

“Shit,” she whispered. She knew at that moment it was impossible to ignore the way he affected her. She honestly didn’t want to.

“I ain’t got no money… I ain’t like those other guys you hang around,” Y/N sang the first lines of her last song of the night. The crowd was exceptionally encouraging, she would give credit to her stage presence. At first they mostly drank at the bar, and some couples danced together, but at that moment they all paid attention to her performance, she was giving it her all. She could pull all that passion from personal experience. “I Wanna Be Your Lover” was only the cherry on top, to end the night in a funky mood. But the true crowd pleasers were “If You Really Love Me”, “If I Were Your Woman”, “Let’s Stay Together”, and “Touch Me In the Morning”. Oddly timed.

Did she really have to set up all of those love songs on the same night she decided to not deny her desires? And to make matters worse, she knew he was watching. She moved her body the way she knew he liked it too. Swinging her hips this way and that. Dancing and tapping her hips to the beat of the drums. She was also feeling herself in her bell bottom jeans with bell sleeve tie top. A dangerous combo, but she wanted something out of that night. She wanted him.

So she decided to let him know. He would need to pay attention to that moment.

“Before we end this beautiful night, I just wanted to dedicate this next song to a friend of mine,” she started saying before the band could leave their marked places. She found him in the crowd quickly, locking his eyes easily. The unscripted message got his attention. “I hope he’s paying attention. I’ll know he’ll like this one.” She took a deep breath and started acapella.

“Me and Mrs. Jones,” she started the first notes and the crowd cheered, some couples went back to dancing, enjoying the slow pace of the song. “We got a thing going on,” the band followed her lead, one by one until the song was luscious and lustful.

“We both know that it’s wrong,” Piano.

“But it’s much too strong to let it go now,” Base.

“We meet every day, at the same café,” Guitar.

“At six thirty, and no one knows she’ll be there,” Sax.

“Holding hands, making all kinds of plans, while the jukebox plays our favorite song,” The song progressed and Hoseok got closer to the stage, leaving the shadow of the bar where he sat every day to watch her perform. “Well, it’s time for us to be leaving. It hurts so much, it hurts so much inside.” He was standing in front of the stage by that point, hands in his pockets, a confused look on his face. She needed to make herself clearer.

“Now she'll go her own way and I'll go mine,” She stared directly into his brown eyes, she said everything she wanted to in her head, in hopes it would translate to her eyes. He had to understand. “But tomorrow we’ll meet at the same place, at the same time,” The confused look was gone, and a smirk replaced his features. He winked and she fell like swooning, but she could only watch while he walked away, “Me and Mrs. Jones…”

The song ended, and she wished the crowd goodnight, excusing herself before the band could ask any questions she didn’t want to answer. She started to walk around the bar and the dance floor, politely nodding while people congratulated her performance. He was nowhere to be found. She would scream his name on every floor if it were necessary.

She walked towards the elevator, but the influx of people was too big, it would take forever; she’d have to do a one-eighty and bolt for the stairs. Looking at her feet, trying not to fall in heels, she went up the steps as fast as she could.

“Excuse me, miss,” she heard a male voice in front of her, but she didn’t look up. The man was insistent and held her arm, halting her steps. She turned to face him, angry words almost coming out of her lips. But at the step behind her, Hoseok was smiling angelically, his eyes glistening under the lights of the room. “Can I have your autograph?” he continued, climbing up a step to get leveled with her.

“Yes, you can,” she replied, all traces of anger gone from her features.

“I don’t have pen and paper with me. Do you mind going to my cabin so we can find one?” He whispered to her ear, before quickly kissing her earlobe. A shiver went up and down her spine, and she had to control every movement of her body. Having sex in public was still illegal.

“Yes, we can do that,” she whispered back.

Hoseok wasted no time in guiding her to his cabin. They walked through a secluded hallway from the bar to a private elevator. She’d never been there before, but she knew it led to the VIP lounge. She barely saw the keycard hit the touch screen, and Hoseok pressed the buttons quickly. He was in a hurry too. They stood on opposite sides of the elevator, facing each other.

“Are you sure about this?” Hoseok asked, tapping his foot to the ground, he looked a little nervous.

“I’m sure.”

The elevator door opened, and he guided her through the lounge and inside another hallway. They walked too quickly, she was certain someone was watching closely through the security footage, but her decision didn’t waiver. He opened his door for her, and she stood facing his ocean view window. She could only see the blackness of the night, but she was sure it would be beautiful during the day. She heard noises in the back and turned to see Hoseok pouring two drinks from his mini fridge.

“For confidence?” He offered her a glass, but she shook her head.

“I don’t need it.” She whispered, the shaky feeling of what she was about to do finally setting in. He put the glasses down and came to her side, holding her hands to his heart.

“It’s okay if you change your mind,” he said, and she chuckled, but her stomach felt restless. She was finally getting what she wanted. His lips were close, and this time she didn’t want to say no. She didn’t have to. She was committing to that moment.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” she answered, taking a step further with a small smile. Her breasts touched the fabric of his light blue suit, and she remembered earlier in the day, with her imagination unfettered. She closed her eyes. It wasn’t going to be only imagination anymore. “Hold me,” she ordered. She didn’t open her eyes when his arms held her waist, hugging her figure to his chest. “Kiss me,” she whispered. And he did.

His warm lips were just as soft as she imagined. His tongue caressed her bottom lip, and in a quest to taste his breath, her own tongue met his. Her hands, firmly pressed against his arms, went to stroke his hair and neck. She pulled his hair, and he moaned at the sensation, holding her tighter against his body. She bit his lower lip, doing the best she could to press her hips against his own. She had his help when his hands gripped her hips and ass.

They both let loose. His jacket was on the floor in a second, and his hands were quick to untie her blouse, exposing her bra. Her hands traveled down his chest as she opened the buttons of his shirt. He stripped her pants and panties off while he kissed her jaw and neck, until he could lick and suck on her cleavage. She opened his belt and unzipped his pants in the process, massaging his cock as soon as she reached his boxers.

In a flash, she dragged his pants and boxers down his legs, and found herself to her knees, reenacting the most famous scene of her imagination. He hissed when she kissed his tip and licked his length. She spat in her hand and stroked him up and down, before doing the same with her mouth. He growled, and his deep voice excited her even further. Her walls clenched when she felt his full size inside her mouth. It filled her perfectly. She sucked him faster and faster, getting aid from her hand. She was salivating for more, clenching in anticipation. Her hand left his cock to massage her own clit. She needed no support from her wet hand, her folds were already pooled.

“Yes,” he hissed, moving his hips in harmony with her mouth, “touch that pretty cunt, baby,” he held her in place by her neck, thrusting his hips further down her throat. They moaned in unisson. He took his cock out of her mouth, the long saliva trail dripping on the floor. “Let me fuck you,” he whispered, begging. She nodded her head fiercely.

He helped her get up to her feet and guided her to the sofa by the window. She took her top and bra off and laid down, eyes wide with expectation. He opened her legs widely, and placed himself in between, holding one thigh to his waist. He used her wet labia to lubricate himself, sliding his dick up and down. She hissed as his tip stroked her clit. She clenched as he slowly entered her core, and her breath caught. She moaned his name.

“Yes, baby, call for me,” he said to her ear, catching her earlobe with his teeth. She moaned his name again and again as his strokes got faster and faster. His hand squeezed her thigh, and he grunted. The vibrations of his voice sent chills down her spine. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he whispered.

His pace never slowed, and they moaned each other's names. She felt the knot build up in her abdomen, and her breath got shallow and quicker. “Fuck me,” she scremead, breathing harder. His hips picked up the speed, the sound of their hips meeting getting louder. She felt free to moan louder as he grunted more and more. “I’m close,” she whispered, “Let me cum on that dick, Mr. Jung,” she whined. He squeezed her thigh harder, grunting incoherently. She then felt the warmth of his jizz inside of her.

“No,” he said, breathing heavily. His hips settled still.

“W-What?”

“You’re going to cum on my mouth,” he said, readjusting her body so she was sitting. He kneeled on the floor, placing her thighs on his shoulders. His tongue went to her clit, and she gasped, placing her hands on his hair. He swirled the tip of his tongue, sliding two fingers inside her filled pussy. She hissed with the sensation. He curled his fingers, massaging her spot.

“Suck on it,” she begged. He complied immediately. His free hand massaged one of her tits, and she pulled her head back, overwhelmed with pleasure. The familiar knot came back, and she sucked a quick breath. “I’m so close,” she repeated, and Hoseok increased the pressure. She tugged his hair as she felt the warm release of the knot, and in a final moan, she fell limp on his couch.

Y/N heard the birds chirping outside. Was it morning already? She felt an unfamiliar stroke up and down her back, and was suddenly alarmed. She sat up quickly in the bed, only to see a confused Hoseok laying down by her side.

“Nightmare?” he asked, worried. She rubbed her eyes, looking around his room. The memories started to flood her head. The unplanned serenade, the quick walk down his hallway, the couch. The shower that led to a second round. The bickering over her use of his shirt to sleep. “Y/N?” he repeated, sounding a little alarmed.

“I’m okay,” she affirmed, she looked into his eyes, and he was still not convinced. “Really, everything’s fine. I’m just not used to waking up with someone else on the bed,” she confessed.

“Come here,” he asked, patting the place she’d just left. She agreed, laying her head against his chest. “Good morning, beautiful,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“Mornin’,” she replied, stretching her arms and legs.

“How are you feeling?”

“Feeling good,” she replied, stretching her neck to kiss his lips. “Real good,” she continued playfully, wiggling her eyebrows. He chuckled.

“How about some breakfast in bed?” he offered, hugging her tighter to his side.

She felt her body tense, and she stayed silent. As good as it was, there were still consequences she would have to deal with. What was going to happen to her job? For all she knew, Mr. Kim could be right outside waiting to fire her while she was dressed in her panties and Hoseok’s button up. And what about the future? What did the future held with this strange man she just had unprotected sex with?

“I don’t know,” she finally answered.

“Are the regrets knocking at your door?” he asked softly, back to stroking her back.

“Yes, and no,” she admitted, and Hoseok took a deep breath.

“Talk to me,” he prompted.

“My job…” she started, sorrow seeping through.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said matter of fact. “Your job is safe.”

“What do you mean?” she probed.

“Just trust me,”

“I want to, but you’ll have to tell me,” she pushed, getting up and supporting her weight in one elbow. “What did you do?”

“It’s a long story, okay?” he answered, pushing his hair back. “I can tell you what I know over dinner, tho,” he offered, smugly. “Tomorrow night. Let’s take advantage of the fact that we are in France, and I’ll fly us to Paris for a date. What do you say?” he continued, his eyes sparkling like a puppy dog.

“I say you’re insane,”

“Well, at least I’m hot,” he joked, and she snorted.

“Hoseok, be serious.”

“I am,” he declared. She started to get up, but he stopped her, holding her arm. “Please, just listen to my offer. Let’s just say that in the hypothetical situation where your job is safe, and no one knew we just had the hottest sex of my life, would you go out with me?” She looked at his begging face for a minute, and he pouted cutely as she pondered. “Or was this just a one night thing? You don’t have to pretend you have feelings or anything. I’m a grown man.”

“I don’t want this to be just a one night stand,” she confessed.

“Okay, good, neither do I. Then back to the hypothetical scenario,” he said, cheerful, sitting up by her side.

“And that’s only if my job is safe and sound,” she threatened.

“Okay. If your job is safe and sound, would you be willing to date me?” he asked.

“I guess…”

“You guess?” he asked, shocked.

“If my job is safe and sound, I don’t want to jeopardize it…”

“So?” he prompted.

“So, any dating would have to happen far and outside from the ship.”

“Fine by me.”

“And while inside the ship, we have to pretend like nothing is happening between us.” she continued, a little more shy this time. Maybe this would be too much for him. Maybe this would be too much for her. She didn’t know if she was capable of pretending nothing was happening.

“That’s also fine by me,” he promised. “With that out of the way, do you want to go to Paris with me?”

“I’ll meet you outside of the pier by 5.”

#bangtanbathhouse #bts #bts ambw #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts reaction #bts scenarios #jung hoseok #hoseok #hoseok smut #black kpop fans #kpop ambw

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yikesitskennawrites · 2 years

Text

Transitions- Chapter One: The Neighbor Down The Hall

Series Masterlist

Next Chapter

A/n: I don’t know how many parts there are going to be to this series but I have some ideas planned out and I’m excited for this adventure. Also, I only used tumblr a handful of times years ago, so I’m still learning all the fun stuff this site has to offer. Bare with me during this process.

Pairings: Steven Grant x (platonic) Reader, Marc Spector x (platonic) Reader, Jake Lockley x (platonic) Reader, Layla El-Faouly x (platonic) Reader

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The apartment building you lived in had six floors total. You lived on the fifth floor. You swore the people above you stomped on purpose and the people below you hit their ceilings with their broomsticks and mop handles. The neighbors across the hall and next door liked to slam their door shut whenever they were entering or leaving their flat. But the worst neighbor lives three doors down the hall towards the elevator of the floor level. He yelled and screamed, a couple of times you heard him laughing about nightmares. You thought he was doing drugs and was having a bad trip but he never showed signs of drug use.

One time, you were in the elevator with him when he looked so frightened about something outside of the elevator doors. The terrified expression he wore really scared you because you didn't see anything, it didn't help that the lights were flickering in the hallway before the door closed and he continued to be frightened on the elevator ride. Even when you lived in New York up until you were fifteen, nothing scared you like that. Well, maybe the giant rats did and the mole people, but nothing was that terrifying until you were trapped in a small box with your weird as hell neighbor.

You needed change and moving over a thousand miles across the Atlantic ocean and new identity helped that. You are sixteen years old, although your travel documents and your forged birth certificate state that you are eighteen. You would have gone a couple years older than eighteen but you didn't think you could properly pass as a twenty year old; and you still were working for your high-school diploma, even though you could absolutely bullshit your level of education on job applications, you’d rather be familiar with topics sixteen and eighteen year olds know so if someone were to question you, you would know.

You still kept your real name rather than a fake one. It was more of a convenience factor and reliability, so if someone were to say your real name you would respond to it. It was also a sign of respect for your parents. They were no longer in your life, they would never be again.

The neighbor to your right slams their door shut causing the picture frames on the wall to sway from side to side. You sigh as you watch the fake golden frames to see if today was going to be the day that they would fall. Part of you wanted the picture frames to fall, maybe if your neighbor heard the shatter of the glass they would feel bad and would finally stop slamming their doors after you asked them to. But alas, the frame slowed to a stop and sat precariously on the tack you shoved into the drywall. Maybe another day.

Sunlight shone through your windows, soon the sun would be setting and it would be too dark to go out and do the grocery shopping you’ve been procrastinating on. For the fourth time that afternoon you recount through the pile of money you’ve been saving for groceries. Forty one pounds, the equivalent of fifty United States dollars. It would have to be enough for the bus transportation of five pounds for the ride to the store and back and for the food you need- not the cake slice you’ve been wanting. With a sigh, you pocket the money into your jean jacket and zip up the pocket to make sure that the money doesn't fall out. Grabbing your keys off of the kitchen counter before slipping on your sneakers, you exit your flat and lock the door behind you.

The hallway was dark as normal, the building was furnished to look nice for those who may want to live there after half of the population needed to rehome due to the blip. But, they of course overlooked the lighting. You began to slow to a stop in front of your weird neighbors door. The last time you saw him he was being carried out of his flat by two police officers, he’s been the talk of this building since nothing very interesting happens around here. Well, except for the vilangante dressed in white a white suit and cape. But, that wasn't your neighbor, that was some weirdo fighting something that bystanders could only describe as the force from Star Wars.

Purple aliens exist and that bastard killed half of the population, at this point you wouldn't be surprised if there were aliens that you couldn't see. Now, you placed your ear against the wooden door and listened for any noise that would show that he was back. But all you heard was a noise of water filtering that sounded like a fish tank. Your eyes landed on the floor of the hallway, there was sand outside of his door. You scrunch your eyes and remove your ear from the door before continuing on your journey towards the elevator. Why was there sand outside of his door?

You pushed the elevator button and waited for it to arrive on your floor, your tongue clicked against the roof of your mouth as you watched the numbers flash for each floor it was passing to reach yours. You looked over your shoulder and back to his apartment, part of you expected for him to open his door and chastise you about eavesdropping, it really was rude of you to do but you couldn't help but be curious. Wasn’t there a rumor that he got arrested for destroying his workplace toilets? Maybe he really was using drugs and it was so early on that he did not develop any symptoms yet.

The elevator opens and you step into the metal box before pressing the number for the first floor. Your eyes flicker away from the button and to the hallway, your lips part and your eyes stare as you watch the lights flicker several times before the doors close and you begin your descent. It was weird and stupid of you to think there was any correlation between your frightened neighbor screaming his head off in the elevator, the vigilante in the white suit fighting invisible creatures, and now you being alone in the same elevator he was in, but still chills ran down your spine at the thought of creatures you couldn’t see were following you around.

---

The walk to the bus stop and the ride itself was uneventful, even the walk to the store was boring. Throughout your journey to get food for the week, your mind was consumed by your strange neighbor's whereabouts, was he still in jail? Was it true that he wrecked his workplace toilets and if so, why? What was he screaming at? Your hand reaches for the bag of frozen mixed vegetables and you pause in your reach. You remembered the flickering of the hallway lights from earlier today, was something there that you couldn't see? You shook your head at the thought, that's ridiculous right? You nod to yourself as you place the bag into your basket and walk towards the bakery section of the store. The last thing you needed was bread, you already gathered bagged rice, frozen chicken, and vegetables. Last week you spent some money on peanut butter and jelly, which you still had leftovers for, but you ran out of bread this morning. You’ve been on a budget since moving to England, your parents had very little in savings to pass down to you and the little you saved for college you used for the deposit on the apartment and the first six months of rent.

You didn’t have much to spend on goodies. The money you earned from your job working at a sandwich shop went towards rent, bills, and groceries. You didn’t have much left over to spend, the little you did went towards your weekly transportation between work and home, and home and the store. You stopped in the bakery section, your eyes landed on the single slices of cake they put at the end of the aisles for easy selling to hungry customers. The price of the single chocolate cake slice costs half as much as the loaf of bread you needed. Your mouth watered at the treat you’ve been craving.

You haven’t had cake since your fifteenth birthday, your sixteenth you spent the day working and came home to an empty apartment. You unzipped your jacket pocket and counted the cash you budgeted for this week's trip. It was still the same amount you counted when you left. Forty-one pounds. It was silly of you to think that more cash would have magically appeared in your pocket on the way to the store. With a sigh, you put the cash back into your pocket and zipped it shut. Your hands knit together, bringing the basket closer to your torso as your tongue darted out and wet your lips, your eyes never left the slice of cake.

Okay, it’s just one slice. You can eat peanut butter right out of the jar with a spoon, besides it's just a little treat. You deserve a treat. With a bit of excitement, you grabbed the top container of chocolate cake and put it in the basket before walking to the self-checkout section. Respectfully paying for the items you selected, you leave the store with a small hop in your step. You were smiling to yourself, your stomach began growling as you thought about the treat you bought. Two years ago- with your timeline of events because it's still hard to wrap your mind around that you lost five years of your life due to an alien with personal issues- you wouldn't have thought that cake would become a treat that you would have to choose bread over the majority of the time. You wouldn't have thought that your sixteen year old self would be moving to another continent and living by yourself, but here you are.

The setting sun glared into your eyes as you jogged to the bus stop, your fingers were wrapped around your grocery bags. The red hound bus was slowly approaching the stop and quickly you picked up your pace, by the time you got onto the bus and paid the fee, you were out of breath. One of your hands wrapped around the pole attached to the ceiling and floor of the vehicle as you prepared for the lurch of the bus before it continued on its daily route. You had roughly twenty minutes until your stop before it would be another ten minutes on foot before you reached your apartment.

The bus was crowded with evening travelers, there wasn't a single spot open to sit down in any of the seats. Most of the passengers stared at their phones, while others looked out the window of the vehicle. You were one of the latter people. You watched the scenery as you passed by, the television shows you watched back when you were in Northern America that took place in London didn't do it any justice. It was a beautiful city, everyday the sight of the same locations you saw always made you breathless. Especially during the times of the setting or rising sun and moon hit just right between buildings and through the crossing of branches from trees.

You wanted to record the everyday life of beautiful moments like this one and post them online for your friends and family who follow you on social media to see. But, you never did, they thought you were dead. One of the unlucky who was in the wrong place when being blipped back into existence. Just like your parents were. It was better for them to believe that you were dead anyways. Your hand tightened around the pole as the bus slowed to a stop before you released your grip and exited the bus, mumbling a thank you to the driver as you left.

The walk to your apartment was quiet, there weren't a lot of people out at this time. Most of the population of London was eating dinner and beginning to unwind from the day. You switched the bag of food from your right and to your left to give the joint a break. You were just a few minutes away from your apartment, plans to relax for the evening began to flood your mind but, of course, life had other plans. You let out a yell of surprise as you were shoved into a nearby alley, your shoulder hit the brick wall and you grunted at the impact. Your eyes flickered to the person who shoved you.

The person wore dark blue jeans and a long sleeved black shirt along with a mask covering the lower half of their face. They wore a baseball cap, strands of brown hair poked out underneath as their brown eyes glared daggers at you.

“Give me your money,” the man hisses, flicking open his switchblade. You swallow as your eyes stare at the knife. Great, you were getting mugged. The money you did have was from the leftovers that you didn't spend on bread, you were going to use that for next week's trip to the store. Slowly, you dropped your grocery bag to the ground and unzipped your pocket and pulled out the single pound.

“Are you bloody joking?” He asks while he snatches the pound from your hand.

“No,” you say, “I don’t have much money.”

“Give me your phone,” he demands as he stuffs the pound into his jean pocket. You swallow, and despite the sharp blade glinting in the setting sun and the sight of it causing you to panic a bit, you shook your head. You have too many irreplaceable things on the device. Too many pictures of a time before that you have yet to download onto a flash drive or print out. He’s not getting the damn phone.

“Are you mad? I have a knife and you’re refusing to give me your phone?” He says, it didn’t sound like a question. He steps forward and presses the tip of the blade into your neck as his other hand reaches for your jacket pocket. You clench your hands into a fist as you try to remember the correct way that your dad taught you how to throw a punch. Was the thumb supposed to be on the inside of your hand or the outside to prevent a broken joint?

The mugger smelled like cigarettes as he patted your pockets for the phone. Fuck it, you thought. You breathed in as you prepared to throw hands for your phone but a voice stopped you and it didn’t belong to the mugger.

“Step away from them,” a British voice says. Carefully, you shifted your head towards the entrance of the alley, the mugger was already looking at the new person. You barely contained your surprise as you saw the familiar figure of your neighbor standing with confidence and a dark look in his brown eyes. Well, your neighbor is no longer arrested so that solves that question of his whereabouts.

But despite how confident he looked in his abilities to beat this guy's ass, you didn’t feel very hopeful. Your neighbor looked like he hadn't been in any fights before, and the screaming from whatever he saw in the elevator that day really diminished any confidence you had in his abilities. Maybe, you should throw that punch now. Your neighbor took a step forward, his posture straightened and his jaw clenched as he continued the strides towards the two of you. With a little hesitation, you turned your head back to the mugger, feeling the knife's tip dig a little deeper into your skin and blood ran down your throat. You exhaled as you brought your right hand up and punched the mugger right the nose, he gasped and stumbled back as he clutched his nose. A string of swear words directed towards you left his mouth as your neighbor picked up him by the shoulder and pushed him into the brick wall.

Your hand stung, you spared a glance down at your fist to make sure that you didn't break it, it didn’t feel like it at least thanks to the adrenaline coursing through you. You glared at the mugger as you noticed that the handle of your groceries were wrapped around his ankle and your neighbor was stepping directly on the bag. Fuck, there goes your cake and more importantly your food for the week.

“You do this to everyone?” Your neighbor asks, his British accent was gone and was replaced by an American one. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion as you watch the scene play out. He adds, “or just to kids?” You frown as the mugger shakes his head, the knife was discarded to the pavement.

“No,” the mugger says, his hands are wrapped around the wrists of your neighbor. “I do this to everyone, it's an equal opportunity for everyone.” Your stomach churned at his statement. It was obvious that he has done this before because of how confident he was to do it to you, but to state that it was “an equal opportunity” was what sickened you. It was possible that he did this to kids younger than you. You watch as your neighbor balled his hand into a fist and punched the mugger once, twice, three times until you finally had to look away when blood splattered on the brick wall and surrounding surfaces. You felt nauseated listening to the cracks on bones and groans coming from the mugger's mouth.

It felt like ages before you finally heard the noise stop and the soft sound of footsteps approach you. You should have left, you could be in danger because of how deranged your neighbor seemed. But, you stayed and you weren’t sure why until your neighbor bent down a bit your height and carefully placed a hand onto your shoulder. You flinched before your head slowly turned to look at him, his eyes were filled with worry and so much care that it gave you whiplash from the man that saved you from mugging and anything else that could have happened and to him making sure that you were okay.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his accent was back to British. Your stomach churned and you shook your head a little before you quickly shoved him a bit to the side and threw up onto the pavement. A hand was placed gently onto your back and rubbed small circles into your spine. He says, “Come on, I’ll walk you back home.” You stand up after making sure that you weren't going to throw up any more. You spared a glance at the unconscious body on the ground but just your eyes landed on it and your neighbor blocked your view with his body. Your eyes trailed up his torso before you looked at your neighbors face. Blood was smeared on his cheek and there were specks of it dotting across his skin.

“You live three doors down from me right?” He asks, back to the American accent. His jaw wasn’t as clenched as it was before and the crinkles around his eyes looked more relaxed. What the hell is going on? Is your hearing fucked or are you really hearing him switch accents?

“Yeah,” you hear yourself say, but it didn’t sound like you. Did you speak or did you imagine that? You must have spoken because your neighbor nodded. He gently places a hand back onto your back before pushing you towards the entrance of the alley.

“I’ll walk you home and explain to your parents that you’re in shock and what happened, alright?” He says. You cross your arms over your chest and begin your walk home, his words still struck a chord in you though. Who is he going to explain what happened to? Your parents are dead, you have nobody to explain the events of today to. You have nobody to come home to.

“I live alone,” You say quietly. You still weren't sure if you were speaking or not. He looks at you with a bit of surprise.

“Really, you look like you’re sixteen,” He states, you nod and pinch your fingers onto your arm. Pain surfaced from the area you pinched and you nod to yourself. Right, this isn't a dream, this is real. Your neighbor beat up your mugger and you’re in shock. Right, okay.

“How do you feel about coming over to my place then, just to make sure that you’re going to be okay,” He speaks with a British accent. You bite the inside of your cheek and feel a sting from the flesh before the taste of metal fills your mouth. You should go with him, just to have someone look after you until the shock wears off. Although, you had half the mind to decline his offer because you really weren’t sure if he was a drug addict and he did just probably kill somebody. Still, despite this thought, you threw all caution out the window and decided to trust this man, he did just save your life. If he wanted you dead he could have killed you in the alley with that one guy. Think positive, what could go wrong?

“Okay,” you say.

#moonknight #steven grant x teen!reader #marc spector x teen!reader #Jake lockely x teen!reader #gender neutral fanfic #marvel #Layla el faouly x teen!reader #knonshu #moonknight x teen!reader #x reader #reader insert #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #jake lockely x you #moonknight series #teen reader

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trollprincess · 1 year

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Okay, SO. What with everything going on on Twitter, I’m going to try to make it a habit to update the other social media accounts I’ve neglected. Apparently I haven’t posted in five years? Sweet Jesus.

Anyway, a bit of catch-up:

• I’m currently working two regular jobs and still working on my podcast. I’m TIRED, y’all.

• Disaster Area is still going and you can find the Patreon for it (where you can get ad-free episodes early) at the link below. (Bear with me right now, I’m having some serious executive dysfunction I’ve been struggling with so episodes have been on hold since September. But I should have a new episode up in a few days, fingers crossed.)

• Speaking of the podcast, I wrote a book! It’s still in the drafting stage and I’m in the middle of polishing it up. I went on a few road trips to various disaster memorials or places where disaster occurred, all this while COVID was still going on (with all the proper precautions, of course).

• I also wrote another book! Also in draft form. Eighty thousand words in fifty-one days. The key is being bored as hell at your 12-hour night job and dictating off the cuff to your phone.

• I’m writing another book! The same way! For NaNoWriMo! I am already WAY past where I need to be. Yaaaaaay.

• OH! I got a dog! Did I mention I got a dog? Because I got a dog. Alas, Otis passed away in 2018, but it took maybe a week before I figured out I definitely couldn’t be alone and got a little beagle mix puppy named Tucker. Which I abruptly changed to Professor Huckleberry Elizabeth Pancakes III, or just Professor. I shall post photos later.

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ckmstudies · 1 year

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I posted 2,518 times in 2022

That's 2,518 more posts than 2021!

127 posts created (5%)

2,391 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@gushuwa

@frenchiepal

@wecandoit

@notetaeker

@a-students-lifebuoy

I tagged 2,402 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#queue up - 2,082 posts

#study - 109 posts

#mine - 107 posts

#study motivation - 106 posts

#studyblr - 106 posts

#heydilli - 106 posts

#study inspiration - 104 posts

#college - 104 posts

#studying - 100 posts

#student - 98 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#now all i have left to do is write my psych paper and make the final presentation then film myself giving the presentation and turn it in

My Top Posts in 2022:

47/100

I know that if I start studying for Latin earlier in the week I would do better but we just move so fast that by the time I've learned something we've moved on. Today our quiz was on a video she emailed us on Wednesday night. I'm pretty sure I made a B but there's just no time to study for something like that that quickly.

Looking forward to the weekend but not looking forward to exams next week.

273 notes - Posted November 4, 2022

Day 16/100

Made it to the coffee shop! I got a cold brew and a yogurt parfait and then got in over two hours of accounting work! After the coffee shop, I went and ran errands, watched two episodes of Russian Doll and two episodes of Criminal Minds, and ended the day by going to my college's football game. Sadly we lost by three but I enjoyed watching the game and getting to hang out with my friends :)

277 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

24/100

I don't know if it's because I had two coffees today or if it's because I'm sick but I have been so dizzy all day. I hope I'm over this sickness soon. The good news is that my throat no longer hurts!!

Today I had social psychology and advanced accounting. In accounting I got my exam from last week back and ended up making a 102! It was the 2nd highest score in the class so I'm pretty darn happy about that. Tomorrow I have a Latin exam and so I went to a Latin study session and then obsessively wrote every possible way to write a noun or a verb over and over again for two hours in the hopes of having it memorized by tomorrow. Luckily going to the study session means I'll get five bonus points on the exam which gives me some wiggle room to make mistakes.

Here's another shot of my school's library. I love taking pictures of the library especially since my room and desk are a mess and I don't have the motivation to clean it lol. Maybe later this week I'll get it cleaned up. Hope everyone is having a good week so far!!

345 notes - Posted September 21, 2022

51/100

Back in the library! I could not focus or stay awake while trying to study for my developmental psych exam tomorrow. So I called it quits after about an hour and decided I’d go to bed early and wake up early tomorrow. But we’ll see if that actually happens haha.

It’s officially cold. Last week we had highs of 85°F/29°C and now it’s 33°F/0°C and that’s just too drastically different. To the library tonight I wore sweat pants over my leggings as well as a tee shirt, a sweat shirt, and a jacket. If I had a hat I’d put that on too but alas. At least I’ll get to wear a sweater tomorrow!

Good luck to everyone this upcoming week :)

551 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

08/100

Another productive day! I went to the gym this morning for a light workout, went to both my classes, studied in the campus library for almost two hours, and then went to dinner with friends. I'm currently watching an episode of "The Sandman" and then it'll be back to studying. So overall, a very pleasant day!

826 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #A very studious year lol

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equestrianempire · 1 month

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Monday News &amp, Notes from FutureTrack

Ahh, and so it bȩgins afterwards. After a significantly, record- breakingly, tunnel- foot- inducingly wet 2023 season, I think all of us in the UK were hoping for some respite this year ( and maybe the prospect of a somewhat drier Badminton ). Alas, it may seem, we’re having no such luck. We’ve already seen a number of illegal cancellations and mid-event abandonments two days into the eventing time. Will we ever find going effectively? Or did next year’s Kronenberg International, where English- based riders are heading en masse, be the first real chance we’ll get to see some eventing over around?

National Holiday: &nbsp, It’s National Awkward Moments Day. I do n’t know who’s doing the copywriting over at National Today, but I suspect much of their output falls under the remit of today’s celebrations.

Ư. Ș. Weekend Action:

Carolina International CCI &amp, H. Ƭ. ( Raeford, NC): &nbsp ,]Website]] Results ]] Live Stream]]EN’s Coverage ]

Ocala Winter II ( Ocala, FL ): &nbsp ,]Website ] &nbsp ,]Results ]

Pine Top Spring H. Ƭ. ( Thomson, GA ): &nbsp ,]Website]] Results ]

Ram Tap National H. Ƭ. ( Fresno, CA ): &nbsp ,]Website ] &nbsp ,]Results ]

UK Weekend Outcomes:

Lincolnshire ( Grange de Lings, Lincs. ) :]Results]

International Events:

FEI Eventing Nations Cup Leg 1 ( Montelibretti, Italy ): &nbsp ,]Website ] &nbsp ,]Results ]

Your Monday Reading Listing from FutureTrack:

The 2024 FEI&nbsp, Nations Cup line actually kicked off over the weekends at Montelibretti. &nbsp, That, we saw the French group take a decisive victory in this first excursion, with France’s Benjamin Massie also taking the personal win with Figaro Fonroy. We’ll undoubtedly be starting as they intend, and while there wo n’t be another Nations Cup leg until mid-May to assess each nation’s standard, we’re now officially in the form-strategy phase of the season. Find out more about the FEI’s success in this round-up by the Olympic number nation.

Goodbye and farewell to Seacookie TSF, the extraordinary Trakehner, with whom William Fox-Pau won one of his Pau successes. &nbsp, Up, the couple also won Blenheim and finished second at Kentucky and Burghley before the gelding’s pensions in 2014. After years of living his ƀest life, he was put dσwn at the age of 25 with his brother five-star winning best classmates. Since then, he has enjoyed a happy retirement with user Catherine Witt. Reflect on his job so far.

If you buy, sell, or cause horses, you’ll have to&nbsp, understand how the legislation pertains to your location. &nbsp, Lucky for you, animal law specialist — and international eventer — Jodie Seddon is here to support. On April 8th, she and her partner Hannah Bradley will host a complete conference that will walk you through every detail of what you need to know. Reserve your area here.

Maybe, I just sit in my horse’s firm and think about how lucky I am to have her in my life. &nbsp, Owning horses is challenging – it can be brutal on your emotions, your body, your bank account, your schedule— but there’s so much good that comes up of having these strange, arrogant, beautiful animals in our lives. Useful, heartfelt content to start your day with is what USEA spoke with a cross-section of its members to discover why they feel so fortunate to have horses.

And finally, based in or near London and looking for an entertaining, educational day out for a kiddo in your life? On April 4th, I attended a reading and illustration session at the Southbank Centre with author Raymond Antrobus and illustrator Ken Wilson-Max’s recent book, Terrible Horses. Through the tale of a conflicting brother and ȿister and a horse ḑrawing notebook, it’s all about learning to interpret the people’s perspectives and emotions. Find out more here and purchase tickets.

Morning Viewing:

With the&nbsp, the entire live-stream on replay, catch up on all the juicy Nations Cup cross-country action from Montelibretti:

youtube

#Eventing

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finding-a-semblance-of-semiwhole · 5 months

Text

I feel like myself for the first time since she died

And for some reason that kind of terrifies me. I mentioned in a previous post that my grief counsellor and I spent a whole session discussing the difficulties I faced as a mixed race child. I should perhaps mention that I am also a trans man, and so I have been in conflict with my family about what name I want to be called for nearly a deacde. Because I am mixed race, I was given both an English name and a Chinese name at birth. I have always hated my English name, so I changed it when I ccame out. For a long time my mother refused to use anything other than my English birthname. Until this morning. I got a text that said 'Morning Xin'.

'Morning Xin'

Decades of identity confusion, worsened exponentially by grief, washed away. I am me again. And all it took was two words.

From today onwards, I am moving forward as a new man. I am Xin to my family, another name to my friends, and here, where I am free and unobserved, I am Jones. But all of these parts come together to make me, and it is becoming rapidly clearer who 'me' is and is going to be.

I have to admit... maybe Xin/Jones is a little lonely. But he is growing and changing, and he has good friends to rely on, even when doctors refuse to do their jobs, and life is hard, and he wishes it was easier.

I wish I could understand more though. Understand why people make the choices they do. My grief is largely due to bereavement, yes, but it is also grief over a failed relationship. Over someone I trused very uniquely, who walked away overnight less than two months into my bereavment. Someone who has been my friend for five years, my girlfriend for 1.25 years, but who only needed one evening of comtemplation to decide to give it all up. Someone who I thought would respect me, but who decided my feelings for me, without ever asking, and then left because she decided it was unfair to ask me to change the feelings she had decided I had. I consider that to be a cruel action on her part; but I know that she is not a cruel person. I cannot be with someone who does not afford me enough respect to allow me to form my own feelings, but she was my friend first, and I think I grieve more for the lost friendship than I do for the lost relationship. I do hope that one day friendship will be possible again, but in this current time I am just confused, and grieving. And 50 minutes a week is not enough to unpack all of the complexities of my situation.

Sometimes I want to mvoe on. No, I do want to move on. I want to find that person who will respect me, and always be kind to me, even if their feelings change. Someone who can help me to grieve, because I will inevitably grieve again, rather than someone who is crass in the face of devastating emotion. But I am still healing my bereavement, and I do not want to start my next relationship sad. I want to be happy when I begin again. I understand that I need more time to feel truly like 'me' again, and today marks the start of my really believing that there is hope. But, I am impatient. I said this to my mentor on Wednesday, that I understand this takes time, But I kind of just want to be done now, thank you. Alas, this not the way the world works.

So, here I sit on my sofa, next to my sleeping dog, in the evening light. Waiting until I feel semiwhole once again.

Wish me luck, friends!

Sincerely,

Jones

#sincerely jones #grieving

0 notes

sunnyrainshine · 1 year

Text

My siblings and I, there's five of us. I would say we don't have a conventional relationship but alas, what the fuck is a conventional relationship within a family? Every family, as much as it is unhappy, it's also unconventional in its own way. But my siblings are much older than me, like 19, 17 and 9 years older than me.

Growing up, we have always took care of celebrating each of our birthdays together, even after they moved out, because it was tradition, then at some point they stopped doing that and the only birthday we would celebrate all together, with each of their families, would be mine, almost like it was Christmas. For a time I was embarrassed, because you know, maybe they don't really want to do it, why do they want to do it? It's okay, they don't celebrate together anymore, why would I? But they insist, they ask when we're going to meet to celebrate my birthday, and I let it happen.

This year at Christmas (yeah technically it's last year but it's these holidays) we had some issues and one of my siblings was visibly uncomfortable during dinner, left early, to which arguments followed, especially by my sisters in law saying how rude his behaviour was etc etc. I love all my siblings fiercely but I have accepted that they have their own life and opinions, and most importantly we share the same blood and parents, which is important when we consider how similar our (all my siboings' and mine) behaviour is: I did not know the reasons of his behaviour, but I could blindly understand and accept that he had some feelings that didn't match the Christmas spirit. It's okay. To some of my other family components it was not okay. These facts happening left me and part of my family saddened, as it was an unusual behaviour for him and it's maddening and frustrating to see him like this, so utterly depressed and upset.

My birthday falls 10 days after Christmas. On Jan 1st my oldest sis and bro start asking me when we're going to celebrate. I tell them the day of my birthday, and my sis announces it in the family group chat. For a few days we wondered if my brother would show, given what's happened at Christmas. Today he texts me and asks me at what time they should come. He's coming. I'm so happy, but also worried because I don't want it to be another miserable situation for him.

I had planned a vegan dinner, my mother - bless her - cooked because I was very busy writing my dissertation, but I prepared this chocolatey birthday cake that was completely vegan and also 90% chocolate. Incredible. It was a good dinner. But the real treat came after dinner. My siblings.. They love talking and arguing and making their points valid. I do too, but I can't keep up with them. They really know how to speak. I love seeing them talking passionately about something, each with their own point to make, but the fun thing is that when we used to meet, there would always be these arguments about something completely absurd, and to assist them is just like being in theatre. I love it. And today, for the first time in months, even years maybe, we had another such performance and it was glorious, my brother, who even studied philosophy and has one of the sharpest mind I know, was back to himself, and you know maybe himself had never left, but it had been so long since I last saw such an interaction and I am so, so happy that I could have this on my birthday you have no idea. This, this was the best present: seeing my brother together with us and him not being afraid of being with us.

I often wonder if he would let me hug him, but I try to give him space because I don't know how he would react, but I hope he knows how much I, and we, love him. I hope he knows. And I'm terrified that he forgets and stops believing it.

Turning 25 terrified me for days before today. I don't know why. Or maybe I do: oh you're 25? What do you do? Do you have a job? What do you want to do with your life? But I'm a little more serene about it then last year. I accept what's to come. I still have difficulties picking up the mirror, maybe I can, but not for long. I choose to believe it's okay, and it's going to be okay. I'm going to walk on my two legs. I'm terrified still, but I hope that it will be okay, and for now, it will have to be enough.

0 notes

amaya-writes · 2 years

Note

getting asked out on valentine's by bnha boys? You can do whoever you want but could you include Monoma and Izuku

🥀 VALENTINE’S DAY SPECIAL EVENT 🥀

Click here to read rules for requesting

Characters involved: Monoma, Izuku, Kaminari, Shinso

Gn reader

Monoma Neito

Monoma was never one to feel nervous and if he did, he usually knew how to hide it well. So why was today so different?

He liked you, he liked you a lot actually, but he couldn't see any reason why you would ever like him back. Monoma was an asshole to you and your friends, even he knew that, but you would be lying if you said you didn't notice how different he behaved with you.

Perhaps that was what gave him the courage to walk up to you right before classes: the slight spark between the two of you that was undeniably there.

"Hey-"

He took a beat of pause, looking around the two of you to ensure no one could witness his possibly embarrassing heartbreak before pulling out the heart-shaped box from behind him.

Milk chocolate, just like you liked them.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

It took you a moment, but eventually your face turned from surprise to genuine joy as you reached out and accepted the gift, thanking him with that sweet voice he had come to love.

"I like you, and if it's not too much to ask, I want to spend today with you."

"Like a date?"

Monoma couldn't help but mirror your smile at the question, reaching out to offer you his hand.

"Yes, like a date."

Monoma wouldn't ever call himself a romantic, but with your hand cradled in his and mouth speculating what he wanted to do, the blond couldn't help but feel like he was complete.

Because after years of watching other couples use this day to express their love to one another, Monoma finally had you. And he didn't plan to let go.

Izuku Midoriya

Izuku had encountered several nerve-wracking moments in his life, but none of them could ever compare to this.

It was just a confession, sure. But it was also a confession that could possibly ruin your friendship and have you hate him forever, and he didn't want to never talk to you again!

The mere thought of it had the green-haired boy stumbling away from your desk in order to abandon his idea. Alas, in his haste to get away Izuku didn't realise he backed up against his own desk and caused a commotion.

"Izuku? Are you alright?"

He couldn't help but feel himself blush at the sound of your voice, whether it was from nervousness or embarrassment he wasn't sure.

As he watched you leave you seat and approach him to help, Izuku was certain he felt his heart stop, but the moment passed too fast for his liking and he found himself in a more worrisome position than the last.

Because now you could see the small black box wrapped in a ribbon that he was carrying, and knowing you it wouldn't be long before you would ask about it.

"So, who's the lucky one?"

"I- well-"

He had planned on lying and making a quick getaway, maybe even throwing Uraraka under the bus and explaining the situation to her later. But then he saw you, really saw you, and Izuku couldn't help but feel like if he didn't say something now, he would regret it forever.

"You. It's for you."

A confident start, good. Too bad he had to go ruin it with his rambles the instant you processed his words.

"If you want to be my Valentine, of course, I totally understand that-"

"Izu."

There it was, that nickname you had started using that made his heart melt every single time.

"I would love to be your Valentine."

Izuku had encountered several nerve-wracking moments in his life, but none of them could ever compare to this. Because this time, he wouldn't hesitate to do it all over again a hundred times if it meant having you at the end.

Kaminari Denki

Kaminari could swear he had accidentally electrocuted him about five times in the past two minutes. What was he thinking, walking up to you like this in the middle of the hallway when he was certain Mina and Kirishima were watching?

He would make a fool of himself, but unlike every other time Kaminari would also end up hurting himself in the process.

Because this was you. You who had so openly been in love with since the start that even Mineta could see it. You who he was always talking to a little too much and cracking jokes just to see you smile even if he got in trouble for it.

Kaminari cared for you deeply, he probably even loved you already, but he was certain you didn't feel the same way.

Right?

"Kaminari, is that for me?"

Thankfully, you were too smart for him to make it out of this situation without seeing it through.

"Yes, actually. I was wondering if you would like to be my Valentine?"

It was then that you looked down on the gift bag in his hand, noticing the 'electric love' written in bold yellow and black letters in the front. Kaminari couldn't help but blush as he watched you trace over it, but his embarrassment was worth it if it drew one of your intoxicating laughs.

"I would like that very much."

Kaminari was almost certain he had electrocuted himself on the spot, but he hoped he didn't because he would never want to hurt the hand now so carefully cradled in his.

He wasn't certain, but as the two of you headed off to lunch Kaminari could swear he heard Mina and Kirishima whoop and call him a real man.

Shinso Hitoshi

This was a stupid idea.

Shinso couldn't believe he let himself get talked into actually doing this, especially when he knew people from class 1A and B were just around the corner listening to everything that transpired.

"Hey Shinso, so what did you want to tell me?"

You were beautiful. One of the prettiest people he had ever seen.

It didn't matter that you weren't conventionally pretty, because to him, you were a level of beautiful that left him speechless every time you spoke to him.

But as Shinso continued to stare at you, he realised you would be even more beautiful with the locket he bought you settled on your neck, one that held his favourite picture of both of you.

"Be my Valentine?"

He held out the box as he spoke, nervously smiling when you accepted it and began to examine its contents.

"I would love to, Shinso."

The nervousness that had previously consumed him seemed to vanish as Shinso heard those words, a grin forming over his face at your acceptance.

But then he remembered the half set-up date he had to complete for you, and he couldn't help but slowly begin to let go of the hand he hadn't realised he grabbed.

"Great, meet me in front of the dorms at 5."

Your confusion only widened his grin as Shinso walked backwards, waiting until he was far enough to round the corner before turning to the side.

"Oh and-"

Shinso looked back at your beautiful face one last time, grinning as he realised you had opened the locket and were staring at it with an expression he could only describe as full of love.

"It's a date."

#bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #monoma neito #monoma x reader #monoma x you #monoma fluff #izuku midoria x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader fluff #kaminari imagine #kaminari x reader #denki #denki imagine #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou imagine #shinsou x y/n #valentines day special

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messers-moony · 3 years

Text

So Perfect | J.P

Paring: Young!James Potter X Fem!Lupin!Reader

Summary: James falls in love with a bookstore called, Lupin’s Library, and can’t believe what they’re going through.

The bookstore was quiet most days. It was a tiny little two-story shop in London. The idea was it had a book for everyone. On the second story was a living quarter for the two siblings that worked at the shop. It was a small two-bedroom apartment, but it did what it was needed to do.

Remus and Y/n Lupin were the owners of the shop. It was their eighteenth birthday gift from their parents. Growing up, their parents didn’t have much, so for them, it means a lot. The name of the shop was something simple - Lupin’s Library - but inside held memories that they would cherish forever.

When they started the business, it was slow. Most days, no one would enter, and Y/n worked a separate job to help Remus pay the bills. But after a year it seemed that people preferred the shop over any other place in London. They enjoy the warmness of Remus’ smile and the radiant happiness from Y/n.

Remus worked behind the counter at the register, and when there wasn’t a customer, he was reading on the stool he sat on. Y/n did inventory and stocked books. She didn’t like to sit still, preferring to be on her feet moving around. Sometimes early in the morning, she’d grab donuts to leave on the front counter for early customers.

There was nothing like Lupin’s Library, and that’s why people loved it.

The bell-ringing announced a new customer into the shop. It was a tiny ding, nothing majorly loud. Y/n was stocking books while Remus was sleeping upstairs in his room. Over the past winter, he had caught a nasty cold leaving Y/n to take over the bookstore until he got better while also trying to take care of him.

“One moment, and I’ll be with you!” Y/n called as she slipped the last book into place.

She skipped to make it behind the counter where she met a man about her age - twenty-five. He was taller than her, maybe just around six feet. His hair was messy and curled slightly at the ends. His eyes were a beautiful hazel, and he radiated a certain playfulness Y/n could get used to.

“Mornin’ sir!” James was taken away by her light and fluffy accent, “What can I do for you today?”

He smiled, “Looking for something to read for my son.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s about to turn five.” James smiled proudly.

“That’s adorable!” Y/n gushed, “Any way we have magic treehouse books, maybe he’d like those?”

“Maybe, he’s been begging for new books.” James ran a hand through his hair, “It’s the only way I can get him to calm down.”

Y/n smiled, “You know, on Saturdays, I read to kids. If you want him to join us, he’s more than welcome. Saturdays, I read to kids five to nine. Sundays, I read to kids from ten to fifteen.”

“Wow,” James replied, “I’d love to take him in if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all!” She smiled, “Everyone’s welcome.”

James gave a grin in response as he searched the Library for these Magic Treehouse books. It took him five minutes before even finding the kids section, but when he did, James grabbed the set of them. He placed each book on top of another and brought them to the counter of the pretty girl.

He watched at how gently and smoothly she moved the books to scan them. James was so focused he didn’t even notice her handing him the books and the receipt, “But I didn’t-“

“It’s on the house.” Y/n replied, “I’ll see you Saturday.”

James’ face flushed; he hadn’t felt this way since Lily, “I’ll- um- see you Saturday….”

He walked out of the shop with a happy smile placed on his face. James hadn’t felt flustered and nervous around a girl since Lily in seventh grade. He had been head over heels for her since then. They began dating in sophomore year and had Harry right out of high school. It was poor planning on their part, but Harry was everything James had dreamed of. It wasn’t until Harry’s second birthday when Lily said she couldn’t take it anymore.

Not only had it broken James’ heart, but it broke Harry’s too. Harry had no idea where his momma had gone. What broke James’ heart the most was Lily saying she wanted absolutely nothing to do with either of them. Lily had placed the engagement ring on the wooden table, collected her things, and left, just like that.

Then it was just them against the world. James and his little mini-me, as Sirius would say. Sirius was the one who recommended the bookshop. He wouldn’t shut up about how cute the boy behind the register was (“Oh James, his hair looks so fluffy!”). It was like hearing a broken record. James didn’t see the boy with fluffy hair, but he did see the girl with the radiant smile.

That night James sat beside Harry in his twin bed. Harry was thrilled to see the new books on his shelf, and as James began reading, Harry became more hooked with each page. When James shut the book, Harry was devastated. He wanted to know more and finish the book! Alas, he had to go to sleep, and if he did, James promised him that they’d finish the book tomorrow.

When James brought up going to Lupin’s Library on Saturdays, Harry was ecstatic! He couldn’t wait to meet the new kids and begin a new book. By the time Saturday rolled around, they had finished two of the Magic Treehouse books. James entered the shop with Harry in front of him, hands on the little boy's shoulders. Now at the counter, he saw the boy with fluffy hair.

“Good afternoon, sir.” He greeted in the same soft accent, “Here for the kids reading circle?”

Harry nodded, and the boy chuckled, “Great. It’s just in that back corner.”

James thanked him before bringing Harry to the back corner, where kids were already sat on a rug. Blankets were spread among some of them, and the girl was sitting on a chair in the corner while the kids made a semi-circle around her. James beckoned Harry to sit, and James smiled at the girl in the chair.

As the reading began, James decided to venture through the bookstore. The bookshelves were surprisingly clean and rid of any dust. The books were taken care of, not a crease or bent page unless he went into the used section. Some people preferred new books; some preferred used. There truly was a book for everyone in here.

He made his way back to the front desk with some books he had gained from the shelves. A multitude of paperbacks and gently placed them on the counter. Remus put a bookmark in his book and began to scan each book just as smoothly as the girl. His hands didn’t seem as soft. They looked calloused and scarred. Sirius’ type, all the way.

“You wouldn’t happen to see a boy with straight black hair in here sometimes?” Remus quirked an eyebrow, “Wears ripped jeans and a leather jacket?”

Remus smiled, “Yes, we get him in here quite frequently.”

“Do you mind if I got your number for him?” James questioned, “He’s talked the world of you and your bookstore.”

“It’s not just my bookstore.” Remus correctly playfully, “My sister works it with me, who I see you’ve been well acquainted with.”

James’ face flushed pink, “I didn’t- I don’t-“

“It’s fine.” Remus replied, handing him the books and the receipt, “She’s a big girl. I trust her to make her own decisions.”

“I didn’t pay for these.”

“You can thank my sister.” Remus winked as he sat on the stool and began reading.

James grunted at not paying again. He rummaged through his wallet and placed forty pounds in the tip jar. Remus chuckled and shook his head at the gesture, appreciative nonetheless of the man's kindness. Another thirty minutes went by, and Harry was running back into his dad's arms.

“That was awesome!” Harry exclaimed softly, “She was so nice! She gave us lollipops!”

“Did she?” James asked, and Harry nodded.

Y/n smiled softly as she joined Remus behind the counter, grabbing some books to stamp while all the kids filed out to find their parents, “Looks like we’ll be back next Saturday.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Y/n replied, “I’ll look forward to it.”

Harry smiled, “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

James and Harry walked out of Lupin’s Library together with smiles on their faces. Harry wouldn’t stop jumping with joy the entire day. He couldn’t get over how lovely the lady was and how she gave him a lollipop. Truthfully, it was the little things when it came to kids. Remus chuckled as they left the library together.

“He quite likes you, I’d say.”

“Little kids like anyone who give them candy.”

“I don’t mean the boy.” Remus replied, “I mean the adult who seems quite fond of you.”

Y/n hmphed, “And what about the man who wears the leather jacket and the straight black hair?”

Remus blushed, “‘Oh, Y/n, he’s so perfect.’” Y/n mocked.

“You’re annoying.” Remus nudged her with his elbow.

“Love you too.”

It wasn’t until Wednesday when he came back in again. Y/n had been absent from the shop due to having to help her friend bartend. Despite working at the bookshop full time, she still had a part-time job bartending. If she spent the whole day at the bar, then she spent the entire night at the bookstore. Working two jobs was no easy feat, but she did it.

James walked in and wandered aimlessly after not seeing or hearing her. Remus smiled amusedly as he walked in and continued to read his book. James felt the spines of the books but never plucked one from the shelf. Remus got tired of his lost puppy look and finally called to him.

“She’s not here, you know.”

“Oh,” James muttered, “Where- Where is she?”

Remus placed his book down after bending the corner of the page, “Helping a friend.”

“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” James replied nervously as he went to walk out the door.

“Wait!” Remus called, and James turned, “I can- um- I can give you her schedule if you want.”

“Schedule?” James questioned, “She doesn’t work here full time?”

Remus shook his head, “No, she works part-time at a bar around the block. It helps-“ He scratched the back of his neck, “It helps pay the bills.”

“You guys don’t make enough to stay in business?”

“No, we don’t.” Remus murmured, “I can't really do much else other than work here, so Y/n took up another job. Which she hates, and it drains her.”

James was appalled. These people were so nice and kind. How weren’t they making enough to stay in business? Remus looked utterly embarrassed by the whole thing, confessing to a customer that they were struggling. James, himself, was a Nephrologists at a hospital not too far away. His family was small, and he made a lot of money.

Without another word, James left the shop leaving Remus in a confused state. He walked to an ATM that was only a couple of blocks away before pulling out a decent amount of cash. James walked back into the bookstore and placed an envelope on the counter. Remus stared at it confused as he got on his own two feet to open it. As he peeled back the seal, he saw what was inside.

“I’m sorry, I can’t-“

“Please.” James begged, “Harry would be devastated if his favorite place went out of business.”

Remus had tears in his eyes as he placed the money beneath the counter, “Thank you. You have no idea what this means. Our parents bought this shop with almost nothing, and we’ve been trying, but it’s so hard.”

“Well,” James began, “I don’t know if I could live with myself if this place was gone, especially after knowing you’re guys’ kindness.”

Remus smiled and grabbed a piece of paper with a calendar on it. At the bottom, he wrote his and Y/n’s names along with their phone numbers. His handwriting was tidy and curvy. Remus handed the piece of paper to him, and James took it gratefully.

“It’s Y/n’s schedule along with her part-time bartending job. Our numbers are at the bottom.” Remus motioned to the calendar and at the numbers on the bottom.

“Thank you, Remus.” James smiled as he pulled out a business card from his wallet, “Obviously, you don’t need me to be your doctor, but my number is on the card if either of you needs anything.”

Remus took the two cards gently, “Thank you, James. We really won’t forget this.”

“I’m glad.” James smiled, “Because I won’t forget you two.”

He left the bookstore with a skip in his step. It felt good to do that. James hadn’t felt this happy since Harry was born, but now he felt like himself again. He felt like that energized boy from middle school who was always destined to be great.

James didn’t know what it was like to be poor. He grew up with his parents being doctors. They made decent money, and James always got what he wanted. They lived with the higher class. It made his heart ache that Remus and Y/n, who were so sweet we’re struggling. He couldn’t take it. He had to do something. It felt good to do that something.

Around the block was a bar called Whiskey Woes. It was old and rugged-looking. The black stone bricks seemed to be cracking in every spot. It made James grimace. Walking inside was even worse. The pungent smell of older men with no taste for cologne made him scrunch his nose. But behind the counter, he saw an exhausted girl who was giving it her all to get tips.

James made his way to sit on a barstool, and sluggishly Y/n made her way to him, “Good afternoon, sir! What can I getcha today?”

“A glass of water?” James replied, lifting his head, and Y/n let out a visible sigh of relief, “‘Course.”

A minute of running around the bar later, a glass of water was placed in front of him, “How’s work, Y/n?”

“How’d you find out my name?”

“Well, your name tag says it.” James pointed, “And I went by the bookstore today.”

Y/n hummed, “Remus tell you where I work, huh?”

“Yeah.” James replied, stirring his water with his straw, “And I want you to quit.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want you to quit working at this shithole.” James repeated, “And take this.”

Another envelope was passed to her across the bar. Y/n eyed him as she broke the glued seal on the white paper. Inside she saw cash, and it didn’t look like just a tiny amount either. Y/n’s face showed visible shock, and James smiled sheepishly.

“Consider it a tip.”

“This is more than a tip.” Y/n chuckled, “This is like three of my yearly salaries.”

James’ smile faltered just a tiny bit, “You don’t belong here. You belong at the bookstore with Remus. You don’t seem happy here, and Remus sees it too. Says you come home exhausted and drained.”

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Maybe go on a date with me?”

Y/n blushed, “A date?”

“Yeah, a date.” James muttered.

“I think you deserve a lot more than a date.” Y/n replied, and James smirked, “Only if you’ll let me.”

She laughed, and it made his stomach flutter. It was a sound he wanted to hear forever. It made his heart flip and the corners of his lips quirk. The way she tilted her head back and how her hair flowed as she did so—the crinkle of her nose and the creases of her eyes as she shut them tightly.

She was so perfect.

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padfootastic · 2 years

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(Since i said ‘regularly programmed scheduling’ here’s something i wrote a while ago but haven’t been able to finish because. idk. commitment issues?)

—

It’s little Harry’s time to go to school and dadfoot is not prepared.

—

It was a beautiful day. The sky was a bright blue, not a cloud in sight; the temperate just right. By all means, Sirius should be having a good time, a wonderful time even because even seeing the sun was a rare treat these days, let alone being able to bask in it.

But no. He wasn’t having a good time. Everything was horrible and he actually wished for grey skies and merciless downpour so that the outside matched his inner turmoil.

Dramatic? Perhaps. But he was allowed to be, dammit.

Because Harry, his little Prongslet, was supposed to start his first day of school today. Sirius wasn’t prepared for this! He knew this day was coming, sure, but he wasn’t ready to be separated.

(Ok, fine. It wasn’t Hogwarts. It was just primary school and he’d be back home in a few hours but it was still- Sirius had never been away from his baby for so long before—what was he supposed to do?)

He knew when he’d decided to raise Harry in the muggle world that this day - might - happen sometime, but he was also more focused on other things, like safety and legality and ensuring he’d read all the parenting books he needed to care of a child full time (he’d expected to be the fun uncle at most, but no way was he just giving up on Harry because of a measly reason like that). He hadn’t even thought about the fact that muggles send their kids to school much earlier than wixen did, that he wouldn’t be homeschooling Harry until he was eleven.

Instead, he had to send him to school when he was just five years old. Harry barely came up to Sirius’ hip still, he was entirely too small right now. But alas, Sirius had decided to live like in the muggle world, which meant complying with all their rules. And an of-age child still staying at home would raise questions he’d rather not have to deal with. After all, he couldn’t keep magiking his way out of uncomfortable situations all the time now could he?

“Siri!” A familiar high pitched voice squeal broke through his brooding, instantly brightening his mood.

“Prongslet,” Sirius echoed in response, James’ nickname for Harry falling off his lips naturally. He bent down to pick up the small ball of energy before he could be bowled over.

“Hi,” Wide, green eyes, lit up with joy and mischief looked up at him expectantly and per usual, Sirius was a goner.

“Hi baby,” he pressed a kiss to the messy black curls tickling his chin.

“Whatchu thinkin’ Siri?”

“Oh, th-nothing much, Harry,” Sirius tried to deflect but he knew he’d failed by the adorable furrow that appeared on Harry’s little brow. That was a thing he’d started doing recently- frowning- to try and look more adult. It was equal parts endearing and upsetting, because it was just another sign of how quickly he was growing up. First he started frowning and acting all mature beyond his years, then he started going to school, and next thing you knew, he was off to Hogwarts, refusing to associate with his godfather, starting a punk rock band and leaving his home without a backward glance.

Hm. Maybe he was overreacting?

He was saved from thinking about that by Harry poking his cheek with a chubby little finger, “Nuh-uh! I saw you. You were all-all frowny and sad.” He scrunched his nose and exaggerated the frown on his face, seemingly in an imitation of what Sirius looked like, and man, his godson really was quite observant, huh?

“Okay, you got me, honey,” Sirius admitted reluctantly. Just because he was facing a five year old didn’t mean he wanted to lie to him.

“I was just thinking of you going to school tomorrow.”

Harry cocked his head to the side, confused (and looking exactly like lily as he did).

#harry potter #sirius black #dadfoot #good godfather sirius black #sirius has separation anxiety #are we surprised #i need to finish this actually #because i have a very vivid scene of sirius crying at the front gate in my mind #it needs to be put to paper #i’m hoping this will motivate me to do it?#idk #it’s also a weird day #(night. it’s 4am)#pen’s writing

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sugar-petals · 3 years

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♡ måneskin scenario: getting to know ethan

↳ NOTE. by popular demand and because i’m entirely enthralled by the phenomenon that is ethan torchio myself, here we go givin’ the gorgeous drummer some love.

word count. 5.5k

TAGS. no warnings all fluff, fem!oc, slice of life, photographer!reader, first date-ish, shy flirting, ot4 is part of the plot, ethan being sexy in heels

Jacob had enough of that twilight bullshit and joined a glam rock band. At least that’s what you thought seeing Ethan around for the first time. Setting up the kit, carrying his whiny band members around, fixing his ruffle shirt, chugging some water: Big gig tonight, extra long setlist. Five minutes later, complaining about his brocade shoes being hard to kick the bass drum with. Even later, silently nodding along to an impassioned Damiano speech crafted to boost the morale, and posing for your camera in his silver jumpsuit. Friendly to approach all the way, but without initiating stable eye contact even once.

One thing’s for sure. As your favorite professor said back at university: Someone may be photogenic and unearthly as hell in terms of looks, and even be intimidating — but also so damn shy, you won’t see their eyes a single time. „Gotta work with it and not against. Then it gets interesting“. In essence, the takeaway from that course. Which does come in handy now. Ethan seems like the kind of guy you really have to get into for a more intimate-feeling picture.

Sure, many people in front of your camera have all kinds of introverted personalities anyway, wearing sunglasses in particular. So much about eye contact in the first place. And the aesthetic is priority, not studying character. Although you really are a fan of that, it’s a huge part of photography if anything. Alas, you’re here to „capture nothing more but the spirit of italo-rock, the attitude, the hedonism!“ (the exact words of your boss) for a music magazine after all. Really, nothing more? You paid attention to how he worded it. Fair enough. Rock spirit, that’s all, the exciting parts.

Ethan surely has it. Drumming on everything he can find during rehearsal breaks („music is everywhere“) with his sticks, even Thomas’ amplifier. He’s actually dorkier than you thought, less composed when he’s in his element. First impressions do deceive. The hair’s hard to miss, too. It’s the central motif that attracts you. You may or may not have taken over 50 shots of it just because. Ethan is a bad bitch and he better know. You climb around the venue to get any salient angle of Måneskin you can think of. Even from all the way back, last row. You don’t want to annoy them being all up in their face constantly. You’re hired to get all the good shots, they’ve been a band for seven years already, professionals in the making. Doesn’t mean you have to stand below the edge of the stage and never change position.

Even from back there, the silver reflects beautifully at the back of the stage. The fashion’s all designer and it shows, but Ethan couldn’t look bad in any of the shots even if he tried or wore the plainest black suit (hell, that would be just as beautiful in fact). Just how long is that hair anyway. All the way down to the solar plexus, must be 24 inches or more. 25, even. Many rockers would wear it that way, but Ethan seems particularly interesting with how he touches it, how he behaves with it. There we go again with the character study, you can’t help wondering.

But really. It’s any photographer’s dream when someone moves their hair around so damn naturally. Gives a great variety to how it frames and shades the face. You like to play with light all the time. And hey, why ask for eye contact when he does even better posing in other ways. The body, too, Ethan’s posture is great. Victoria and Thomas often bend to really get into their power chords, Damiano frequently hunches forward for a belt. But Ethan’s throned at his kit like some royals taught him to be a good boy. Back straighter than a pole, how the hell.

No glance in your direction still, even if you return from your last row spot to move around on stage with the camera. Which gives the band a motivation boost and chances to try out gestures up close, too, so even better. Hey, maybe it doesn’t annoy them. You can actually get used to it, this way of photographing them is all dynamic. Nearing the end of the first rehearsal, you’re all busy maneuvering between Thomas and Damiano to get a nice semi-profile from Ethan’s left side. Gotta work with it not against, you chant to yourself as a mantra, and it seems easier to stick to than you thought.

How glossy all that hair is commands all the attention of your shutter release in and of itself. That he takes good care of it and has been growing it since forever shows a dedicated guy. It’s actually quite wavy. The band arrived in the pouring rain and Ethan’s curly strands at the crown and nape of the head were definitely showing — super cute. An army of stylists took on the resulting humidity frizz. They whipped out the straightening iron and protective spray, and even now before the big performance, Ethan brushes his hair out in front of you, and sweeps it around with his fingers anyway. You take pictures of the bits you find most candid, and decide to rather perfect single shots instead of making several in a row. The more you photograph him, the more you want to discover his essence in one picture. His sheer presence almost begs for it, it’s ridiculous.

Victoria on the other hand has no problems with rapid-fire releases and comes close to your lens to pull funny faces. She’s got some of the coolest poses you’ve ever seen with her bass, and hops around the stage like a bunny to the beat. Thomas is a virtuoso and pro who keeps on doing what he does when you make him pose, and Damiano can flirt with any camera ever. He even lowers his red leather jacket off his collar bones for you to have a great shot. He’s promising and most definitely a born divo, your boss will be happy with those pictures most definitely.

Then again. Behind that supposed hedonism is so much hard work and thought. Damiano even gives you ideas for angles during the second rehearsal. „Hm, maybe stand on the amplifier?“ Eagle perspective, not a bad idea at all. After trying out said suggestions with the help of triggered stage security making sure you don’t fall off the construction („eh, Damiano always suggests the most reckless things to staff, don’t mind him“), you find yourself concentrating on what goes on at the back of the stage all over again.

Ethan is busy practicing a new solo which has you curious about whether it’s for an upcoming album. Though again — the shoes cause trouble. Ethan complains again, the music stops. That could very well be the reason why he seems so preoccupied today, or is it? The manager tells the stylist, and the stylist hurries, voilà, Ethan has a new pair of shoes brought in. Ones with a thicker sole, bit of a chunky heel, and laced up rather than being slippers, a drummer’s worst nightmare as you have learned today.

You wait until he changed. Then snap some more pictures how he continues practicing calmly, and the sound did improve since he can kick the bass drum better now. Now you position yourself across the stage all over, in the empty audience ranks. Ethan is the most radiant and confident when you just take a step back. But well, he still sweeps his hair around a whole lot and looks even more tense-looking than Damiano who’s doing vocal warmups and jumping jacks, „Come on guys, come on, we’re starting in 30 minutes!“.

You can tell he does it more often when he’s nervous. And that means he does it very often. People would probably assume it’s vanity, or the fact that the hair gets in the way. You can see that for him it’s a place of distraction, maybe safety. A gesture like an anchor. He’s used to it being long just like his eye shadow being dark and smoky all day. He knows the drums by heart, if it falls in his face no need to shake it away. And besides. The strands reach below his shoulder blades, it stays down his back if he doesn’t move around too much. He could easily tie it up as well. All those things go through your mind without you even knowing why.

To switch things up a little, you photograph Thomas fooling around with Victoria at the snack bar, stuffing fries up their noses, and already see the lighting technicians do their final check. Some of them you know briefly, you made shots at this venue before, last year for a Shakespeare theatre play. You did some freelance work in the scene, but now you’re put to the test for more involved jobs. Hard to complain though, Måneskin are amazing in front of the camera. If Damiano is not the ideal Hamlet, you don’t know anymore.

Something new happens all the time, the expressions are priceless. Ethan’s in particular, when he does his wide-eyed surprise faces learning that there’s actually healthy food at the snack bar. „Vitamins, how nice.“ — Thomas, pokerfaced, reacts with eating a mayonnaise-dripping sandwich. Ethan, unfazed. Headed straight to the fruits. You’ve never seen a tall silver glitter tower like him walking around biting a bright red apple. Well, you can take Jacob out of twilight, but not the twilight out of Jacob. Snap, another picture. Clash of words, that’s a nice theme.

The concert of this evening seems particularly energetic and leaves your camera roll with some brilliant, tweet-worthy material. Damiano covered in confetti, eyeliner running. Victoria on the shoulders of Ethan while he’s playing her bass. Thomas, stagediving. Fans waving banners and chanting along to Seven Nation Army. Your ears are ringing when the light technicians close down the stage two hours later. Thomas really played his soul out with the solos, and your feet seem to vibrate. That’s your body thinking Victoria’s bass is still playing, but the magazine is very happy with how the pictures turned out after you send the whole batch to them as soon as you can.

Little to no retouching, zooming, or cropping necessary. Ethan is just perfect as he is, you feel like you captured him well. After swiping through the gallery on your tablet, you think Victoria has some great ant’s eye perspective shots as well. Those go right on your own blog, she’s just amazing. The magazine has an enthusiastic article typed out already. Damiano’s mid-air split on beat for the final song makes the cover story on Monday, and Måneskin’s manager comes back to you a week later. „What would you think about doing some behind the scenes stuff for us? We’re planning a music video!“

And that’s how you end up in a Sicilian restaurant with Måneskin and crew a week later, stuffed with Calzone and mind filled with Damiano’s inspiring words (and the occasional catchy freestyle rap). The MV is as good as finished. Thomas had shown you around the mansion they were shooting at, and you could convince a taciturn Ethan to walk between the marble statues and boxwood trees in the garden. With his black cape on, a rhinestone choker, and the low-cut lacey blouse that the MV director was obsessed with as well, asking you to focus on it. Your best shot even ends up in the thumbnail of the Youtube video without you even expecting it would.

All the garden pictures turned out mindblowing. If not iconic, the best project you had so far. Gets to show you the best things are often improvised. Ethan, stoic as always, sat at the base of armor-clad Emperor Augustus twisting into the blue sky in a large gesture. The marble was a perfect contrast. Ethan ate a ripe pear from a tree, even that was aesthetically pleasing, then leaned against a hunting Apollo, and you also framed him from the back next to Aphrodite and Cesar. He put on his sunglasses underneath Achilles, and knelt at the feet of a Pietà replica. Marvelous panorama shots, with him the shining center. Well, we know since Queen that the drummer is the unrealistically pretty one.

The whole picture series is blowing up on your blog for the whole afternoon. „Count Dracula on a stroll in Versailles — eugh, begone sunlight!“ is what a comment neatly sums it up as. People seem to especially like the shot where Ethan playfully put his cape over Pallas Athena’s spear with a blurry Thomas having a laughing fit in the background. Well, even Count Drac gets photobombed sometimes. Your phone buzzes with notifications every other minute, you do notice it against your thigh. But the insalata of the restaurant is good and the night is young. Victoria and the manager tell old stories of Thomas snapping a guitar string while he was trying to serenade a highschool crush. Ethan scolds them for making fun of it.

Damiano gets drunk and dances on the table, the MV director discusses new ideas, some walk-in fans take pictures. The temperature is still unbearable. You order a dessert to share with Victoria and Ethan. A large tiramisu that the waiter cuts in three pieces, and it’s truly delectable. The chocolate, so crunchy, melty. The cream, fluffy and cool, making for a funny white beard that makes Ethan look like an arctic scientist returning from an expedition.

Of course, you take pictures, all the food is documented. As are late night restaurant shots with Damiano’s heels peaking into the frame when you photograph the band’s friendship bracelets, hand-made by Victoria on a tour bus last year. Damiano’s back down on the table soon, singing, while Ethan creates a beat with two forks. Thomas also agrees to take your camera for a while so you’d be in the frame for a change, too.

You pose for a group picture, or rather a group hug, and being in the middle …Ethan’s arm wraps around your shoulder loosely, hair dangling into his face, but also brushing yours. He focuses on the camera, facing away from you. The schooled eye could catch you breaking a sweat in the resulting photo. Ironically, the tiramisu doesn’t cool you down the way you thought. Thomas is too busy trying to figure out your camera dials and yelling „hey eyebrow king, smile!“ at Ethan.

A round of even more gelato goes down in spoons and spoons. The band members eat like they ran a marathon. Ethan clinches a third round because he can, unhealthy be damned, he needs some sugar and refreshment. And it’s true the MV shooting was strenuous in the heat, and had lots of intense performing parts. Even an invisible rope suspension were Thomas would descend from a ceiling during the chorus with little cherub wings attached to his back because why not. If the manager agreed to recreate this on tour some day, the pictures would be amazing.

You can’t help but think what kind of special effect would suit Ethan the most, and you come to the conclusion that a bridge lift would be the coolest thing ever. A rising part of the stage letting him emerge like an elevator from the underground. Maybe using smoke machines, too. The idea twirls around in your mind so intensely, Damiano asks if you’re wasted. You’re always getting carried away with all kinds of fantasies like that for over a week now. A dreamy photographer? Not unusual, but it’s seriously distracting you from the present moment.

The crew slowly heads home, and the band decides (translation: Victoria’s mood is) to head to the movies. Just when the waiter arrives with the bill, Damiano spills panna cotta all over Ethan by accident. So bad he’s all sticky from the shoulders down, making Ethan opt for the hotel instead. Besides, he’s been drumming his soul out, sleep is so needed now. Since the group is already gone and there’s still a forgotten cymbal left to carry back to the equipment bus by the hotel, you help Ethan maneuver it around. The heat is making either of you sweat, even with the full dark of the night coming up.

The gaffer lady you’re sharing a hotel room with is already fast asleep. Damn it. You want to cut a video and make screenshots with the laptop being decently bright. And with some volume if possible, you don’t find headphones in the darkness of the room. Ethan clears the desk in his own room for you after removing his make-up. He looks so young and beautiful and tired.

You type and drag and double click yourself through the video and do some last blog updates to deal with all the notifications. Ethan lends you some headphones, but you only keep them on one ear. The humming is too nice to ignore. Nor do you know what to even expect. The bathroom door is open, Ethan is topless washing the lace blouse by hand. Only wearing bellbottom pants and his lace choker — nothing else. He’s fully immersed in his task. He even adds some other shirts and silk scarves into the soap water along the way while he’s at it.

You’ve never seen someone do their own laundry so systematically. Ethan looks like Prince Caspian at the sink, wielding the almond soap bar like his weapon of choice against the enemies of Narnia (the devious panna cotta that’s still sticking to everything). He might be all mysterious, but he’s well able to curse all kinds of things. You tease Ethan for dropping his gentlemanly behavior for a stain of dessert. Ethan insists you sound like Thomas trying to test him with his slick comebacks, which makes you laugh. The blog has calmed down a little and your eyes hurt from editing, so you call it a day and send one last e-mail.

Ethan is drowning in bubbles at this point. The whole room smells like fabric softener. He thanks you for helping him carry around the equipment earlier. In return, you say grazie for him being your perfect muse in the garden today. Philosopher he is, Ethan remarks how Måneskin is usually the one searching for muses, now he ended up one himself — „Maybe not a bad thing, eh. Become the thing you want or something.“ That’s way too deep for a summer night in Sicily, and both of you need a huge portion of sleep. Tomorrow, lots of schedule. You do find yourself wanting to help lick that dessert off his chest. No way you’d tell him.

Ethan waddles off to shower after a crooked, reserved smile for a good night departure. When you close the door to your room and start brushing your teeth, the other members’ voices emerge in the hotel corridor — they’ve returned from the movies. Damiano is even more wasted than before and audibly sings. „You’ve looked at the photographer lady in a certain way earlier, huh. I saw, I saw!“ Victoria does a loud ‚shh‘ noise, and the stoic reply is a simple „Sleep, Damiano, you’ve had too much.“ Thomas giggles, and four doors click shut. Damiano’s singing is now muffled for two minutes until it’s silent. How the fuck can you even sleep after hearing that.

You assumed that Ethan would treat you differently the next morning, in whatever shape or form. But he doesn’t. The greeting is short as it would always be, and he informs you that he did manage to wash out the sugary clay from his clothes as he puts it. Damiano says nothing, adjusts his rings. Thomas randomly pulls zippers at his packed-up equipment. Victoria headed to the car already. Downtown to a studio it goes. The group gets styled to perfection, twenty minutes later they make a reaction video to the newly released MV teaser. Ethan talks about enjoying the sculptures in the garden.

Three hours down the line, you shoot some promotional pictures of them at a pool. Thomas has the time of his life perfecting his diving board skills, and Damiano creates the musical background, singing and prancing. The aerials would make literal perfect editorial-in-VOGUE material. In the meantime, Victoria dozes in the sun. Ethan dives. Sometimes just sitting at the bottom of the pool, othertimes swimming back and forth. The art director suggests you to go into the water, too. He’s right, the perspective works out well this way.

You’re basically standing in there with your flowy pantalon pants and camisole, using a waterproof camera. Your bikini is back at the hotel. It doesn’t matter, everything will dry quickly, the others went in the pool with clothes as well. And you’re all too wrapped up in your passion in the first place. You marvel at how fun the whole scenery looks through your lens. Their outfits are cropped and luminous, today’s color is bright red. You order the lighting assistant back and forth, get some more great Thomas frames where he tosses around a volleyball that the manager brought along. Less rock than usual, but it works. Måneskin at a pool in Sicily.

Damiano splashes water around like crazy. Victoria joins the fun as well, splashing right back. It’s infernal. Well, those are going to be dynamic pictures, you think, and the cameraman never dies, so. Ethan resurfaces every other minute, wiping the chlorine from his eyes. He slicks his hair back with both hands, looking down his body learning how his shirt has become completely transparent. He covers his chest with his hair, quickly, then submerges again. It’s strange. Being topless is usually no big deal in Måneskin.

Almost 12 o’clock. Thomas and Damiano wander off to work on some lyrics, probably the title that the drum solo is part of. All top secret. Victoria returns to her sun lounger, checking her phone. The crew heads for lunch, but you stay in the water, gladly you put sunscreen on earlier. You ask Ethan to try some seated or floating poses at the bottom of the pool that you saw him practice earlier. „No worries, keep your eyes closed.“

What unfolds before you is the most beautiful thing. Ethan’s shirt fans out like a red jellyfish underwater, playing around his body. His figure is just enviable. He gets the hang of it and knows quite how to move. Or rather, to remain stable when the pose is perfect. Hands above his head, horizontal, or seated, only one foot lightly sweeping over the pool floor, or on one knee, as if he proposed.

Raising his arms helps him sink down and settle, as if he immersed himself in deep meditation. Although the purpose of meditating is to be present, isn’t it. And that’s what he feels like. Ethan would normally switch on autopilot for most of his public interactions, now he’s alive and fully in the concentrated movements of the photoshoot. So much about improvising all over again. The hair creates the most incredible shapes like a black, wide brushstroke, clearly outlined. Thank god you have the waterproof camera. These are moments you’ll never forget.

Your blog notifications keep on bleeping throughout the afternoon. The promotional pictures are a hit. Måneskin’s manager is basically waving five new contracts in front of your face at dinner, but you’re kind of spaced out again. The cozy, rose-ranked atmosphere of the street café you went to is inspiring, and the members dressed up in the most fancy suitwear. Men in Black? Måneskin in Black. It’s almost as if fate read your mind. Ethan is looking at you very intently from across the table when the minestrone is served.

Pasta shells, parsley, vegetables and basil leaves. The scent surrounds the entire table. Damiano, in serious mode tonight, is too busy finding new rhymes and an alternative chorus with Thomas who wildly brainstorms. Victoria drinks, loudly chats with the gaffer lady that you share a room with, and they use a leaf of a palm tree pot plant to tickle Damiano. Thomas plays the acoustic guitar. Ethan and you end up smiling briefly at another. „Bon apetit,“ you say. It’s almost 34° celsius. That’s going to be an entire pile of cheesecake gelato tonight.

Five signed contracts later and halfway through a hefty caprese cake, the title song is finished. An ode to Marlena, fierce like the Mediterranean sea. The piece certainly sounds exactly like this place. Strangers listen to Damiano performing bits and pieces, but you decide to disperse when too many cellphones come out. Damiano wants to go to a bar, Thomas and Victoria carry home their guitars, or to the hotel to be exact, and bags of newly shopped vintage clothes. You ask Ethan if there are any cinemas around the area. „We missed out last time, remember.“

The Palazzo Theater is a small and hidden insider tip far from the main street with its busy beach tourists. Under bulbous metal balconies and peach-colored facades, a small entrance with lanterns on each side guides you inward. Ethan almost hits his head, it’s so low. He’s wearing glossy red bottoms under his suit pants, you’re out and about with a 6’2 giant after all — a statue by himself. A small man with a pipe sells you cheap tickets for a Mads Mikkelsen movie and lemonade, Ethan picks up an XXXL caramel popcorn bucket. You think he’s flexing, but you get a sudden heureka by looking at it twice.

Unlike the S, M, and L bags, it’s thick cardboard and drum-shaped. Oh my god, obviously. Which fine percussionist could ever resist such temptation striped in red and white, the sound deep and dull? It makes you smile how Ethan pursues his instrument even when he seemingly doesn’t, it really has to be a hobby at heart. That’s how a job becomes a profession, and a profession a vocation, your uni professor’s other favorite words all over again. The latter’s words have gotten you far so you again trust the insight that came to you through that quote.

Seeing Ethan standing there, you can almost see the childlike joy at imagining it being empty and ready to get turned around. A tuxedo Italian with Louboutin heels and a ginormous popcorn drum, half past eleven somewhere in Palermo: Ingenious combination, you snap a picture. Ethan makes a cute face, posing like a pinup of the 50s. Who knows how many vintage store posters he’s seen during tours, he must have picked it up there. And— Is he blushing? Must be the dim lights in here.

Off you go to the auditorium. Ethan, who balance the popcorn with all care in the world like it’s his baby, walks the aisle slower than you. The slim steps don’t have any floor lighting. Not very heel-friendly, but since it’s not a huge budget theater and few people dare spike heels on those cobblestones outside anyway, the stairs shall be forgiven. You take out your phone and offer your arm. For every gentleman it takes a gentlewoman, duh. Like rock’n’roll and the camera staff, chivalry (or shevalry as Damiano calls it when Vic holds the door open) never dies. He mumbles a thanks, you climb upward to the fourth-last row, Ethan holds on tight.

No ankles twisted and not one popcorn spilled, you get seated on red velvet. The chairs are dated, but nevertheless ultra comfortable. Nobody else is here. The adverts roll, Ethan cracks open the lemonade bottle caps with his chunky golden lighter because he can. You toast to Mads Mikkelsen’s bone structure and good minestrone, Måneskin’s finished title track, the promo pics, and the discovery of Ethan’s favorite new drum. A whopping five things to toast about? The night’s going to be great.

Damiano catwalking across the screen, wearing a Versace skirt in the middle of otherwise-boring commercials does shake you up. He was picked as a testimonial recently. Though, your pulse is high enough. Ethan’s hair is brushing against your shoulders, not to mention his goddamn massive arms. He can’t get out a single word either for the entirety of the ads, avoiding eye contact all over again. Just how much suspense can starting to eat the first popcorn have. Well, you pick two from the very top and start munching.

Mads does a great job opening the movie as one would expect, but you just can’t concentrate. Instead, you stress-eat popcorn. Which makes Ethan do the same thing, at least he’s somewhat fixated on the screen. After the first ten minutes, he shakes his head. „That makes no sense at all,“ he clears his throat. „Yeah, yeah it clearly doesn’t,“ you agree, basically on Torchio-autopilot yourself for the lack of a better reply. You were too busy figuring out the components of his aftershave rather than the thin plot. Shifting in your seat, chugging lemonade…

The air conditioning is scarce, but at least the screen is quite large and proper. You try to focus on the cinematography and do small talk about it. If there’s something you can comment on without having followed the string of action, it’s at least this. You might be nervous, but you’re still a photographer. „Um, isn’t this chainmail nice in the closeup?“ — „Hm, I guess it works. We should ask Damiano to request something like this from Versace.“ — „Medieval Måneskin Rockers?“ — „Something like that.“ — „Hilarious.“

By the twenty-minute mark, the popcorn drum is almost empty. Gladly, that stuff just shrinks to bits in the stomach. The lemonade just has to galvanize it. You might be able to distract yourself with the camera shots and the last caramel chunks, but that doesn’t change Ethan’s long legs and Acqua di Parma perfume next to you. Yep, you finally figured out what it was, it wasn’t the aftershave. And well. Ethan smells like hotel soap from Milano to Napoli and back.

That scent basically dominates all the others besides a hint of cigar and basil and citrus-y deodorant mixed with runny sweat. God fuck, you can barely stand it. And the almond scent. You take a chance to at least jokingly point it out to him. The random movie flashback sequence is boring — and just as nonsensical as before, no offense to Mads though, he’s just walking around in chain mail — enough to deviate from whatever choppy convo you had going on before.

„I actually washed it twice,“ Ethan pulls off the silky scarf that functions as his current tie, and you recognize it. „The strawberry sauce was hard, but the cranberries… God no, I’ll never go near pana cotta again. Nothing against cream desserts.“ You take the scarf, smell it. Did he literally just hand it to you? Figures, he’s sweating bullets, too. And oh shit, he hasn’t talked that much all evening.

You slowly shift from bodies turned to the screen to facing each other. So up close, so up front, only God can help you know. His eyes are dark and reflective of the film’s flickering lights and changing scenes. You wish you could photograph them on sight. It would be as glimmering as your view from the hotel room, overwatching the unobstructed stars of the Mediterranean bay down the boulevard.

But it’s like you’re stuck in your position this way, feverishly thinking about a reply. What to pick up on, what to pick up on. You think about today, the evening where you edited things in his room. „Uh well, drop your laundry in the pool next time,“ you laugh, more than tentative, with your fingers randomly curling around the scarf. „The chlorine stuff will do the job for you. It’s so aggressive, it bleached by pants one shade lighter.“

Saved. Smooth transaction. Phew. „Oh, the pool was horrible. Not the photos, I mean… I don’t know how you can poison water that way.“ — „I know right? It’s still in my nose. But yeah, was a good idea with the underwater thing. The photos turned out really well.“ — „I really haven’t done something like that before but I guess it turned out hm, nice?“ — „Come on! Nice is understated. Are you fishing for compliments?“ — „No no, by all means!“ — „The one kneeling. It’s my favorite. I don’t even know what to do with all these pictures.“

„I don’t know. Maybe keep them?“ — „Keep… for what?“ — „It’s a separate series, right. The art director didn’t request it. Maybe they can be used for something later on during promotions.“ — „Yeah. We’re always a little extracurricular,“ you laugh again, tense in your voice, and empty your lemonade completely. „This, too,“ Ethan points at the theatre in general. „You’re good to talk to. The better version of alone time.“ — „Thank you. You’re great to go out with. I… really like it.“ Beautiful nature scenes show on screen, but they’re nothing but a blur. You take Ethan’s hands in the dark and smile. „Maybe we should do it more often.“

masterlist | bookmark/read it on ao3

#maneskin #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #maneskin fanfic #maneskin scenario #måneskin #maneskin fluff #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #ethan x reader #ethan torchio fluff #ethan torchio fanfic

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themoonmunchkin · 3 years

Text

Don't look!

Pairing : Bakugo katsuki x gn!reader, Midoriya Izuku x gn!reader, Todoroki Shoto x gn!reader.

Genre : fluff

Warnings : insecure reader, cussing, savage deku?, kinda angsty but overall super fluffy ^3^

Synopsis : you're insecure about your side profile but they're having none of it.

Not gonna lie, he probably wouldn't even have known that this was an insecurity that people had.

So when you first start dating he wouldn't think much of it when you cover your nose while laughing or when you contour your jawline extra hard.

Until one day you start letting your thoughts get to you again, you think about how everyone around you have such a beautiful side profile.

You start wondering why Katsuki even bothers to be with someone as "ugly" as yourself, I mean has he seen his face.

But anyways you start distancing yourself from the world again, start hiding your face with your hair, have mental break downs in the night, refuse to take pictures and completely shut him out while thinking you're being subtle.

But no, no, no- my mans noticed...and he's currently having a full blown panic attack on the inside.

He's really worried at this point and starts thinking about what he's done wrong, he tries to talk to you but you're always making excuses and running away from him.

Now, he's had enough and so he quite literally barges into your dorm room and demands an explanation as he keeps shouting at you until....

.....he takes in your tear stained face with fresh tears forming at the corner of your eyes.

You were seated on the floor with a hand mirror clutched to your chest, the same one that you use to point out all your insecurities in, your phone is on the ground next to you with a picture of a model, her perfect side profile on display...the same one that you always compare yourself to.

Cue in a confused, angry and sad boom boom boy 😔.

Who the fuck had the audacity to make his baby cry hmm 🤬.

But then his anger vanishes just as it comes and before you knew it, he's shut the door behind him, quickly walks upto you, swoops you into his arms and cradles you in his lap.

"Ssshhh....its ok baby, I'm right here". Bakugo softly coos in your ear while running his fingers through your hair and letting his other hand rub your back. "Talk to me honey, what's wrong?"

You pull back a little and look up at him into his pain filled eyes that still hold so much love for you and that's when you tell him everything.

You tell him about how you've always hated your nose, how you've always wished you'd had a more chiseled jawline, how you've been bullied about your side profile by your peers and how you've never felt good enough.

He still doesn't get it because you're genuinely the most stunning person he's ever laid his eyes on, but understands how this is something that seriously bothers you and so he's gonna do everything in his powers to yeet those insecurities out.

Now Bakugo isn't one to lie or sugarcoat something, but he's also not someone who'll let you sit and hurt yourself like that.

He takes a deep breath, cups your cheeks in his hands and looks at you with the most earnest look on his face.

"Listen here baby, you're right maybe you don't have the most chiseled jawline or the sharpest nose out there-"

You winced at that a little but he was quick to speak again.

"I'm not done yet-" he closes his eyes and thinks for a second, words have never been his thing as he's someone who prefers actions instead but right now you needed more than just a kiss or a hug, you needed security and reassurance, so he takes in another deep breath and opens his eyes to look at you again.

"-just because you don't have those doesn't mean you're any less beautiful." He said with a smile as you curiously looked at him. You looked so damn cute to him all he wanted to do was pounce on you right then and there, but he held himself back for your sake and the next things he said made you fall in love with him even more.

"What you have suits your gorgeous fucking face, you don't have to change for any stupid extra and no one's opinion, not even yours is going to make me view you any differently or make me love you any less." He leaned in and gave you a chaste kiss on your lips that pretty much took your breath away and then he pulled back with a cute blush on his face.

"So from now on only listen to me okay and no matter what-" he kisses you again and pulls back a second time "-I will make you look at yourself the way I and so many other people look at you".

Now he's had his fair share of insecurities and he's had a lot of people call him "plain looking" (which I still don't understand how when he's got some of the rarest and most beautiful features) even then those words about his looks have never really got to him.

But when it comes to you, he immediately knows something's up with all those self-deprecating jokes you apparently find to be funny.

Doesn't question you cause he doesn't want to scare you away, also because he trusts you to come to him if something is wrong.

But alas you and your stubborn ass refused to seek help from anyone and instead you chose to cope with yourself by putting yourself down in the form of those awful "jokes".

You've always tried to get yourself to stop this, but it soon became more than a coping mechanism, it was the only way you could hold yourself up without wanting breaking into peices.

That was dangerous.

But it's ok! It's still all fine and dandy until one day everything changes and you realise that all that self-deprecation didn't do shit.

Its Sunday today and you and your boyfriend Izuku have been walking around the shopping plaza for a while now.

The two of you were on a date, but you were also on a hunt for the new all might merch that your boyfriend has been fangirling about since forever. So far there was no luck on your end but y'all weren't about to give up just yet.

"OMG! I think I see it in there!" Izuku squeals cutely while pointing at what looks like a moderately big comic store that had an emo cyber punk looking aesthetic to it.

*Gasp*..."OMG! I think I see it too!! Let's go!!" and with that you grabbed his hand and were dragging your blushy stuttering mess of a boyfriend towards the store. It was adorable how easily he got flustered even after how the two of you were almost half a year into dating.

The two of you finally reached the store and stepped in, there it was the brand new neon tinted holographic Allmight figuring with working layers. Izuku's eyes sparkled as he ran towards it and immediately snatched it off the shelf.

"Yay we finally got it!" You cheered as you walked over to him and gave him a high five. The two of you had bright smiles on your faces as you talked about the figuring and walked towards the counter to pay for it.

You looked towards the counter where a young girl who looked about your age was working as a cashier, she had this bored expression on her face until she saw your boyfriend and it immediately changed into something you could only call as a flirty expression.

"Hey there handsome~ what can I help you with today~" she said in a sultry tone and gave him a wink. You and izuku were both puzzled at the fact that she not only just openly flirted with your boyfriend but also completely ignored your existence.

"U-um....er....we just need this figuring please". Izuku placed the box covered figuring on the counter and was about to pull his hands back when she quickly grabbed them and cupped them with her own hands.

"You sure, how about I give you my number and we ditch this place to go get coffee."

"Um -uh no thank you, I have a s/o!"

"Hmm...I don't see them."

"Well I'm right here and maybe you'd have seen me if you'd stop flirting with your customers and did your job properly." You said and at this point you were seething because even though she knew you were right there, she hadn't spared you a glance and pretend like you were completely invisible.

"Oh, so that's who you are....I was wondering why such an ugly person would be hanging out with someone like him-" she pauses and looks into Izuku's eyes with a bored expression "-you need to raise your standards, I mean have you looked at how hideous their nose is or how ugly their face is."

The two of you froze. Sure You've always made fun of yourself before but this was the exact reason why. You've always told yourself that if you'd make fun of yourself, you'd be desensitized to what others say to you but it's only now you realize that no amount of preparation would ever be enough to handle the real thing.

Shame. Humiliation. Pain. Fear.....This is what you felt at the momen-

"How. Dare. You." You turned towards Izuku and for the first time ever you were met with the most terrifying expression on his face. His eyes were dark and he looked...mad....like really really mad and you froze, the cashier looked like she was about to cry with the look he was giving her.

"I don't know who you think you are but you had no need to say whatever you just said and you are wrong because they have the most gorgeous facial features ever." at this he turned to you and softened his eyes a bit, he reached for your hand and gave you a gentle squeeze.

"I promise you sweetheart, you will always be the most beautiful person in my life and no one can tell you otherwise-" he looked at the slack jawed cashier with disgust and pointed towards her "-not stupid people like her-" he looked back into your eyes like you were the only two people in the store and pointed towards himself "-not me and lastly never will you ever tell yourself those kinds of words again even as a joke, got it."

Always openly staring at you in the most respectful way ✨.

Even before y'all started dating he would always stare at you in secret, but hey! it's not his fault you were so irresistibly attractive all the time.

Uhm...so moving on, he is observant as heck especially when it comes to you but unfortunately he's just as oblivious T_T.

He's always noticed how you'd get shy and walk away whenever he'd stare at you for too long and genuinely thinks it's adorable at how bashful you get.

But truthfully.....you're mortified, paranoid even at how much he stares at you.

I mean yeah it's adorable to see him so whipped for you but you're always wondering if he's secretly bashing your side profile in his head and the thought makes you wince ever single time.

But you always tell yourself to not let your insecurities define Shoto or effect your relationship and besides Shoto isn't a cruel person, he'd never think of you that way.....right...?

Oh God, he's doing it again, he's staring at you and this time it truly is terrible because he is seated right beside you. The two of you are seated wooden chairs, side by side in the U.A. library.

Your textbooks and notebooks are spread out on the table in front of you. You're in a more secluded part of the library opting to study in a more private area and boy oh boy did Shoto take advantage of that.

"Shoto, could you please stop staring at me like that". You held your textbook upto your face and looked the other way.

"But I want to look at you". Shoto pouted slightly and furrowed his brows at your actions, he reached for your wrists and tried to pull them down and to much to your inconvenience, he succeeded.

You see, while you still had a bunch of work left to do, Shoto had finished about 15 minutes ago. You told him to go back to the dorms but instead of listening to you, he denied your offer and has been staring at you with the most unreadable expression on his face.

"Why can't I admire the one that I love the most". He slightly tilted his head towards the side and flashed you the most genuine smile. Damn him for being so adorable but that's not enough for your insecurities to go away.

"Because I'm ugly". You finally said softly with your head hung low and tears threatening to fall. You wanted to shrivel up in a corner and fade away for sounding so vulnerable but at the same time it felt so good to let your thoughts out.

"You're....what..." His eyes were wide and his jaw was set a slack. Now this took him by surprise, he had expected a lot of things but never once had he expected....that. He gently grabbed your chin and tilted your face to meet his. "Love, you're the most beautiful person I've ever met, why would you ever say that."

"Because I'm not beautiful, everyone has such a gorgeous face especially from their side. I don't and you don't have to lie to me to make feel better about myself. I know I'm ugly and I'll always be that....just let me accept that and be Shoto." You said with your voice slightly raised and shaky from the lump in your throat.

Shoto's eyes darkened a little and his grip on you tightened a little but not enough to hurt you. To even think that someone as precious as yourself could ever have such awful thoughts about yourself- how long have you been silently suffering like this all by yourself.

He cupped your cheeks with his hands and met your eyes with the most determined look on his face. "Darling, I don't know who said that to you or even if that's an inside voice but, I will absolutely never let you accept yourself this way."

"Everything about you is perfect, from those gorgeous eyes that i always get lost in," he kisses your eyes.

"-to that perfect nose that helps you breath so you could live by my side another," he kisses your nose.

"-to those delicate beckoning lips that I wish to kiss forever." he finally captures your lips in a breath taking kiss just to slowly release them and look at you.

"And besides, you know better than to call me a liar baby, you know that I would never lie when it comes to you so let's pack up for today and let me show you how much I love you and how utterly enticing you are."

#writing #fiction #reading #reader insert #headcanon #bnha x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha todoroki #todoroki x reader #midoriya x reader #mha midoriya #midoriya fluff #midoriya headcanons #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shoto

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

request: some christmassy idea where marcus moreno brings presents he bought for missy to the shop to get wrapped up bc he cant wrap for shit. And he wants to flirt with reader whos the one whos gonna wrap the presents but for the love of the above he cant. hes stuttering and hes flustered and its cute. And reader is like okay mister "i can use the force", heres my number, call me so we can shedule a date. And hes so shocked about it 😄😭😭😭 thank u patricia! 🌟

I see it's time to write for Mr. Moreno? Excellent 😌 Enjoy!

Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader; no warnings

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he reluctantly returned to the store, the bag of presents in his hand a sign of defeat. How hard it could possibly have been to wrap a few presents? Apparently too hard for someone like Marcus Moreno. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried, oh no, he’d spent several hours the previous evening after Missy had gone to bed attempting to wrap the clothes and other oddly shaped boxes perfectly. But instead of success, all he gained was frustration.

Instead of another vain attempt at the wrapping, he gave up and threw everything back into the bag and made his mind that he would go back to the small department store and ask...beg if you required it, for you to wrap the gifts.

He might have been able to save the world on several occasions, but apparently his talents ended at Christmas gift wrapping. Well, he huffed to himself as he pulled open the door, the soft twinkling of bells meeting his ears, everyone had a limit. His just happened to be a little more pathetic than others.

Super Hero, he reminded himself with each step, he was a fudgin’ super hero for fuck’s sake. But alas, when it came to more domestic things, such as cooking, and wrapping apparently, he was far from super. He was working on it though - spending time each day to make sure he was learning - doing enough - to be the father Missy needed. For her, and himself. Things weren’t always easy, but they were always getting better.

Although tired from a long day at the office, throwing swords around, as Missy had dubbed it, his face instantly lit up when he spied you behind the counter, an almost bored expression on your face. The last of the Christmas rush was almost over, which meant business had slowed down, which was both a blessing and a curse at the same time. Marcus would have been a liar if he said he didn’t have an ulterior motive for coming back; sure - he wanted the presents wrapped, but let’s be honest, the man was smitten with you. Any excuse to come back and chat with you, even if it was just five minutes was good enough for him.

He’d known you, casually, for a few years now. You had been Missy’s teacher at school last year, and he knew that you worked the summers and holidays at your parent’s store to give them a hand with the rushes. Sometimes, being the sneaky Heroic he was, he’d made up excuses in the past to come into your classroom to spend a few minutes here and there talking to you. It was hard to believe that anyone could make him nervous, to make his heart flutter and beat like a nervous schoolboy, but there you were. Managing to do it every time.

But he’d never act on it. No, no, no. That would be downright outrageous. After all, why on earth would you be interested in Marcus Moreno? He couldn’t even wrap a present.

Almost as if you sensed his presence, you looked up from the counter you were organized and offered him a dazzling smile, accompanied by a small wave. He was positive his heart stopped at the sight as he had to remind himself to breath. After a quick inhale and exhale, he marched over to you, ready to be firm, and hell, maybe today he’d finally ask if you wanted to get dinner sometime. Why not, after all? But then he took a good look at your eyes, those soft eyes and that gentle smile and he came undone.

“Hi Marcus,” you beamed at him as he did his best to give you a normal smile in response, “what a pleasure to see a friendly face. How are you?”

“Hi,” he managed to choke out as he calmed himself. How did you have this effect on him? He was a grown man, a man with plenty of experience in dating and love, and yet this one he couldn’t seem to nail down, “I’m fine - you know what, why lie? I’m tired and I can’t wrap presents for shit. I hate to ask, but could you help me out? I’ve seen you do it for other people and I’m afraid if I try again, it’ll be worse than the first time. It’s been awful - oh my God, I’m so rude. I’m rambling - you look pretty - nice - how are you?”

“Marcus,” you giggled at him, watching as a nervous tinge of pink flushed his cheeks. You put your hand on his, effectively getting him to calm down and shut up, “slow down. It’s okay - I’ve got you covered. I assume work is busy?”

“That’s one way to put it,” he was instantly relieved as you took the presents from and grabbed some wrapping paper to display to him. He nodded at your choice and watching in awe as you made quick work of grabbing the first present and getting to work, “I was about ready to just leave him in the bag and give them to Missy like that.”

“Ahh, it’s not a big deal,” you shot him a quick wink, “it’s easy once you get the hang of it. But then again, I’ve been helping my parents with this stuff for years. Maybe sometime I’ll show you how.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he exhaled as he leaned against the counter and tried to pay it cool. His heart was thumping in his chest so rapidly, he was sure you were able to hear it as well. If you noticed anything out of place, you didn’t show it, “I’ll pay you - whatever you want.”

“Marcus,” you waved him off, “there’s no need. Besides, what are friends for?”

“Friends,” he almost choked on the word as he grinned at the delicate look of concentration on your face. Your brow was furrowed, your tongue peeking out from between your lips as you made sure to get all the measurements just right, “how’s everything been? It’s been a while…”

“I know,” you agreed as you started some ribbon to start curling it, “I miss you coming into my classroom all the time, I miss Missy - it’s not quite the same without the Morenos.”

How much could hint at it before he finally got the bait? You’d harbored a crush on the man for years now, even before you became Missy's teacher. He was a Heroic after all - handsome, funny, smart, and kind. Who wouldn't fall in love with him? You'd hinted at your feelings a number of times and you thought he reciprocated a few times, but you could never be quite sure. And neither of you ever seemed to make a move. You'd come close a few times, but somehow just hadn't...quite gotten there.

“I miss it too,” he agreed quietly, turning his attention to his hands, “Missy doesn’t like her teacher as much this year.”

“That’s because I’m pretty cool,” you teased gently, “you look nice too, by the way. The all black thing - pretty sexy.”

Marcus was sure his heart stopped at your words; you couldn’t seriously have said what he thought you said. Right? Right. He looked at you with wide eyes as you refused to look up from what you were doing in case you had completely overstepped any remaining boundaries.

“I, umm…” he paused for a moment, chuckling at his own nerves as he moved to stand in front of you, “I’m shit at this. But I, umm...I like you.”

“Marcus,” you stopped what you were doing and set the scissors down to meet his soft brown eyes. He had a small smile on his face, nervous as he watched your expression to try and get a read on the situation. Honestly? He’d rather have taken down another horde of aliens than wait for your response, “it’s about time you said something. I was beginning to think you never would.”

“Oh,” he let a nervous chuckle as your words set in, “oh. Oh?”

“I like you too, Marcus,” you admitted as a warmth flushed over you, “I just...I didn’t know how to say it. I was…”

“Nervous,” you both blurted out at the same time as you both laughed. At least you were on the same page.

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” he confessed as you nodded in understanding, “I feel like an old fool more than anything...but I’d like to take you out. On a date. A real date. Like you know not just...this, and I’m sorry if this is awkward. Missy’s been telling me to ask you forever and I just feel like -”

“Marcus,” you grinned at him as you reached up and held up a finger to his lips, “you’re rambling again, silly. I’d love to. I’d love to go out with you.”

“Seriously?” his eyebrows raised in surprise as you just nodded. Needless to say, he was not expecting this - any of it.

“Seriously,” you confirmed, “come on, Mr. Force Hands, give me your phone and I’ll give you my number.”

“Okay,” he looked at you with nothing but soft hope in his eyes as he fished out his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. You let your hand brush over his as you took it and quickly saved your number for him, “I...yeah. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” you agreed, “but don’t actually forget to text me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he breathed out easily, “besides, I owe Missy twenty bucks now and she’ll never forget it. We made a bet - she said I’ve never get the nerve to ask.”

“What a pleasant surprise,” you grinned at him, “now come on. Come around the counter and I’ll show you how to wrap properly.”

Marcus shuffled around the counter and you pointed to the spot you had previously occupied. Moving behind him, you paused for a moment before reaching around him to put your hands over his and help guide him. He swallowed thickly at your tender touch, trying to keep himself composed.

“Now,” you said softly, “do it like this.”

It was definitely not what Marcus had expected to come out of this evening - but he was so glad it did. Finally.

Maybe not being able to wrap presents wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #wcbh #we can be heroes #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ahhhhh here we are

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 3 years

Text

The Birthday Fic

Several months in the making. Started around Ruggie’s birthday (Which is why he’s the opener) completed long past my own birthday.

Content warning for coarse language, sexuality, mentions of illness and the medication needed for managing it, and getting wildly horny to a point that even I was impressed with myself.

As always, there’s more in my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag, send me a message if you liked it! (I know what the birthday gifts were from most everyone, even if not mentioned in-fic.)

~*~*~*~

"I'm sorry dude, what did you say? You ears started going and I just tuned the fuck out."

"I said, 'when's it your turn to have the school-run birthday party?' It's got it be soon." Ruggie's intentionally twitching his damn ears, has to be, and you had to physically shield your eyes to be able to answer properly.

"I don't fucking know, man, I need to have a birthday for that."

"Everyone has a birthday."

"Yeah, but I don't know when mine is."

"Can't Crowley tell you? He's got all kind of magic."

You sighed. "He tried that, so I could remember my proper name. He can't even get a year fix."

"That fucking sucks, Yuu." Ruggie passed you a pop can before cracking open one himself. "You should get one of these, too."

"Ah, maybe Riddle will take pity and dedicate me a specific Unbirthday party." What was this, melon? Not bad.

"That's not the same because you won't get loot."

"Yeah, you wanna go through fifty boxes of chocolates to get rid of all the ones with potion-of-suck-your-dick? I'm good."

He scrunched his nose in disgust. "People still trying love spells on you?"

"Not as much, but I still get Mal to check them over for me. He's good about that."

"He just doesn't want to share."

"Shush."

"It's true!" He stopped for a moment. "Does he know you don't have a birthday?"

"He hasn't realized yet and you're not going to tell him."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

"Trey?" You blinked up at him. You didn't talk as much as you'd like to, mostly because every time he showed up your mouth rapidly filled with whatever treat he'd just made.

"What do you like best for cake?"

"I will literally eat anything that you put in front of me if you make it, even if it's full of shit I hate."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, new angle. What don't you like?"

Oh boy, he better prepare himself. "Fondant tastes gross, modeling chocolate is white chocolate so I hate it, a cake should be cake and not mostly fucking icing and rice crispy treats, most icing's too heavy for me if it's not whipped cream- why are you writing this down."

He looked up from his notebook, blinking at you with his pleasing yellow eyes. "Because you always give thoughtful feedback to my baking and I want to make you something as a thank you."

"Oh. If that's it, I'd rather have cheesecake."

~*~*~*~

"Mon Trickster~"

"Rook, I'm trying to re-" You yelped as he squeezed your waist, and you swatted at him. "Fuck's gotten into you?"

"What, I cannot play with my sweet friend?" He'd dragged you from your seat in the library, and was now doing his damndest to twirl you around without ramming you through the tables.

"Not right now! I expect this shit from Floyd, not you." He's going to get you both kicked out of the library if he doesn't smarten up.

"Our dearest Malfeasant is playing with the Rose King right now. Besides, he lacks my talents." He stretched your arms out straight before twirling you around, your back pressed to his front.

"Is that getting away with being a shithead?" you ask as you pap the side of his face, too little force to be a slap but with a similar message of 'stop'.

"Amongst much else, my dear!" He managed to dip you low, bracing one of your legs in the air, and you wiggled out of his grasp with a thump to the floor.

"Ah, what an invitation, ma belle! But alas, I cannot. It could never be. I'll see you at lunch." And he left you there, baffled, on the floor.

You wound up getting kicked out of the library after you started shrieking in rage and kicking like a damned toddler. What the fuck was that about?

~*~*~*~

"People are being weird."

"Everyone's weird around you." If Idia's combo kept, this would be a perfect match. "You encourage it in people with your presence. It's a passive AOE. No fighting against it."

"More than normal."

"It's the curse of spring. If you aren't sneezing, you see pretty girls and get stupid." He got his perfect match, and went back to the lobby. "Even I'm not immune to simp fever and spring flowers."

"You sure? You only go outside so you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency."

He pouted at you. "Girlfriends are supposed to be nice to you, you know."

"If I stopped, you'd wonder what's wrong. Anyway, then you couldn't brag to your followers about a tsundere girlfriend."

"You're not even a tsundere! You genuinely like me even when you're mean." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "You're maybe sadodere."

"What's that one?"

"Sadistic yet affectionate."

You opened your mouth but genuinely couldn't argue. He was too fucking cute not to be mean to! What can you say? That pwease-no-buwwy aura he got when distressed was just too much.

"Yeah." He paused, a small smile creeping across his face. "Yuu."

"Yeah?"

"You really like stripes, don't you?"

You looked down, at his blue striped shirt you were wearing. It honestly fit you better than it did him. Further down was pinstriped socks, and if you remembered, the underwear had stripes too.

"What do you think."

~*~*~*~

"Mal?" "Yes?" "Why do you have all this even if you don't wear any of it?" "I do wear earrings now, thanks to you." He dropped another oversized ring onto your finger. "The rest, I simply don't bother with unless I must appear in an official capacity."

"So I'm a special occasion?"

He smiled at you, sweet and genuine. "Always."

"Then why am I your jewelry rack today?" So many necklaces. So many rings. There'd be a crown on your head, too, if the crowns for Draconias weren't essentially elabourate chains hanging off the horns.

"Perhaps I enjoy seeing you wearing my things. You wear Shroud's all the time." He was slowly going through a box of rings, trading them on and off your fingers after puzzling over them.

"Your clothes are tailored, and I'm too big around." You thought for a moment. "So, Mal."

"Yes?"

"Are you planning on something you aren't telling me?"

He blanched and immediately went shift eyed. "Of course not."

You took a breath. "I'm gonna say no."

"Yuu-"

"I'm pretty sure your grandmother would eat me alive if I said yes."

"No!" He made a shushing guesture. "I... am planning something. But not a proposal, my goodness, that would be too much pressure for you and would splinter the kingdom." He sighed. "Even if I would like it."

"I know you would. What are you planning."

"No."

"Yes, tell me."

"It's a surprise. You'll get it at some point in the future."

You thought back to some of the stranger events of the past few weeks. "... is it a birthday party, Malleus."

"Nnnnnnoooooooooooooo?" His face was a desperate, wide-eyed mask of please-believe-me.

"Yes it is."

"I didn't say that."

"You might as well have!"

"It's not." He wasn't even facing you anymore, knowing his face would betray him.

You took a deep breath.

"I can keep pretending I don't know. I mean, if you want to throw a surprise party, I can't really stop you. And anyway," you added, "If I don't have a set birthday, there's no way I can know exactly when it's coming."

He relaxed, slightly.

"Don't get me a ring, though."

He chuckled. "That does have implications, doesn't it."

"Don't it, though?"

"I was checking what colours were most flattering for you." He finally turned around, all warm smiles. "I should have known. They all look lovely, because you're the one wearing them."

"Stop." You could feel you cheeks reddening. "If it helps, gold doesn't make my ears act up."

~*~*~*~

When you walked to your dorm one warm day, after school, you simply could not see the building for the brambles grown up since you left this morning.

"Yuu?"

"Grim?"

He squinted at you, unimpressed. "Your prince boyfriend has lost his fucking mind. Why'd he do this?"

"I think I know." You looked in amongst the branches, which held no roses, but something better. You plucked off a blackberry and held it to your little shoulder monster.

"Ew, no. I want tuna."

"Suit yourself." There was a path, and if you got on tiptoes, a tent half-hidden behind the briar. "You ready for a party, Grim?"

"What? What party?"

You shifted him from your shoulder to your hip as you walked along, careful of your sore arm. "They decided I needed a surprise party because I don't have an actual birthday. Figured it out like two... three? weeks ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He stopped, looked away, and bristled. "Why didn't they tell me?!?"

"Because you can't keep a fucking secret?"

He yelled and scrambled to the ground. "Hey assholes why didn't you tell me I better be getting presents too-" He's already out of sight, and you can't stop laughing at him. It's better like this, when he's himself.

~*~*~*~

Why is Everyone here. There's a huge stack of presents, there's a buffet table, there's chairs, there's -

"Shrimpie's here!" And then everyone converged with enough words that it was just a wall of sound; mystery hands leading you to a chair, someone was trying to stick a hat on you -

"Wait!"

People only stepped off and quieted because your voice cracked. Idia, hiding in a corner, managed to raise sympathetic eyebrows before whispering something into Azul's ear.

"I gotta go inside for like, five minutes, I'll be right back." And off you went.

~*~*~*~

"You don't seem the type to do drugs."

You looked up and laughed. "Well, Vil, I gotta get through the day somehow." You shook out two pills and poured a glass of water.

"What are they for?" He leaned against the doorway, as though it wouldn't cover his clothes with splinters and dust.

"These," you said as you pointed to the two in your hands "are anti-nausea. They're new."

"How many of those do you take?" He nodded towards the other bottles on the counter. “I didn’t see them during training.”

"Well," you said, as you started to number them off on your fingers. "I started the first ones after Eliza, to help stabilize my organs, the second ones were immunity-boosting after my pneumonia, I started taking vitamins after that as well, I got sleeping pills for nightmares after Jamil blotted - they don't always work, but hey - and, well." You shook your current bottle. "Your curse vapours are pretty good, it turns out."

He blanched, and you backpedaled. "You weren't yourself, and I only have to take these before meals now. I had to get IVs in the morning for a few days, I couldn't keep... wait, wait, shit, no, I'm sorry, don't make that face -"

Vil crossed the distance, putting his face very close to yours. "You should have told me."

"Why make you feel even worse, man?"

"Because I could have formulated something better for the damage." He flicked your nose, more exasperation than malice. "Cures and poison go hand in hand. I can't fix what was done if I don't know."

"Taking care of my medical woes is not your job, Vil."

"You don't get to tell me what is and isn't my job." He squeezed you close with one arm. "You're just an exhausting little potato."

"I'm a delicious little sweet potato that you can't resist."

He sighed, exhausted. "Yes you are. Now take your pills and stop with secrets."

~*~*~*~

"What kept you?"

"Had to make sure there's room in the fridge for all your food, Trey." He hadn't chosen one cheesecake - he had at least two dozen varieties of bite sized miniatures, labeled by flavour and potential allergens. "You were busy."

"Well, I felt like experimenting. I hope you don't mind."

"You're the one doing me a favour." You looked around, everyone chatting idly with one another. "Where's Mal."

"..."

"I swear to fucking god if he didn't get an invitation to the party he helped organize-"

~*~*~*~

It turns out he'd left to fetch an obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers, the scent so overpowering you thought your chair might tip from the force of it.

"You do enjoy them?" Mal was so cute when unsure.

"Yes, dear." As long as people didn't crowd in again. Lately, you can only take so much sensation before your brain shorts out and you start yelling. "Set them on the table, I'll have to start on them later." Hairspray and an arid room would have those dried within the week.

"Which part of the celebration will we start with first?"

"I don't know. It's my party but you're the ones throwing it. Where's Grim?"

He pointed over to one of the set up tables, where Grim sat in a pile of wrapping paper, furiously kick-scratching at a wriggling toy fish as big as he was, while Cater filmed. "We realized a few days ago he'd be unhappy if he didn't get his own presents."

"Aww. Is there catnip in that?"

He leaned in conspiratorially. "We're not supposed to have any on campus because Kingscholar is susceptible to it."

You went right past normal laughter straight to wheezing.

~*~*~*~

So far, the highlights were: A mycological photobook from Jade big enough to crush someone's head with (that he cheerfully wrote as such on the inside flap), an enormous multipack of slipper socks from Ruggie (with a note saying it was a return on the doughnut-patterened ones you'd given him for his own birthday) and a parure set from Floyd, crafted from thousands of woven seed pearls with carved coral feature beads that was frankly obscene in the amount of money it must have cost. (He, of course, said it was worth it as long as you wore it for him, and simply laughed when you quipped that he meant with clothing right?)

The rest was fantastic, still - various books and movies, a pretty glass vase from Ace stuffed with wildflowers, fine silk dresses from Kalim and a simple belled bracelet tucked in, from Jamil. Currently, you were opening a basket from Vil.

"Oh, wow," you meant with sincerety as you pulled out a light, fragrant soap. "You make this yourself?"

"Yes. There's soaps, shampoo, conditioner, perfumes, lotions..."

You smiled at him sweetly. "You saying I stink, Shoenheit?"

He mirrored your smile right back at you. "Be sure to use them."

"... I'm going to kill you," you said, laughing, as you lobbed the wrapping paper at his face.

~*~*~*~

"Az?"

"Mm?" He was watching with amusement as you looked the jacket over, a lovingly tailored frock coat in periwinkle wool and shell toggles.

"Are you sure this'll fit?"

"Of course." He guestured down the table to Rook, who waved. "He checked your measurements."

"When did-" Ohhhhhh. Oh. Alright. "I'm surprised he couldn't tell by just looking."

"I could, mon ange! But that was more fun!"

~*~*~*~

Malleus barely hid his pout when sliding his box over to you, and it didn't take you long to guess why. "Floyd's jewels really show yours up, huh."

"Perhaps," he said, pointedly not looking at the boy currently playing with Grim.

"Yours are more special because they're from you." When unwrapped, the box was stunning; carved walnut with shell inlaid curlicues. "My god, how old is this?"

"Older than I am," he said with a smile.

"How old is that, Mal."

He just kept smiling, and you rolled your eyes and opened the box to reveal a piece far, far different than the frothy confection Floyd gave you. A single, sizable brooch of gilt and enamel, a tiny faerie woman staring up at you with imperious emerald eyes, she was so lovingly crafted you could see the tension of her muscles and the hair between her legs.

"This piece is only a hundred and fifty years old," he said mildly. "The artist lives in the Valley of Thorns, and created it in the image of her lover." His smile was fond, and sweet. "They're still together to this day. Even if we may not last so long, I hope that it can be as strong."

The sentiment was enough to make you tear up.

~*~*~*~

Several tissues and a bat-shaped blanket from Lilia later, Idia pulled out a large box. And another, and another.

"Uh, Idia."

He just turned red as he stacked another box.

"Dude, holy fuck. What did you do?"

"Looked at your wishlist on your shopping websites." He's flickering pink at the tips of his hair. "Couldn't decide."

"I told him to just get them all!" Ortho looked wildly proud of himself. "Some of them are from me."

You blinked several times. "I thought the sites broke." You started feeling faint. "Idia."

"Yes?" He finally brought out one last box, easily two thirds your height, and set it in front of you.

"Some of those dolls were... so much madol."

He was shifty-eyed. "Yeah."

"Some of the outfits were themselves more than some of the dolls on those wishlists."

Despite the redness, his face was still. "Yeah."

"Oh my god." You're already sitting down, but you need to lie down. "That's too much money."

"It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Why do you have so much money one of those sites alone was at least a million madol's worth of-"

"Please just open the boxes," he said in a strained voice. "I don't want them all staring."

You take your shaking hands to start unwrapping, mentally trying to figure out which rooms in the building were sound enough to hold obscene amounts of porcelain, resin and plastic. By the time you were done, there were over forty of varying shapes and sizes with complete wardrobes for each; the last not even on any list - that was an art piece near as tall as you, a fine bone china girl with golden curls and knowing eyes from an artist whose work did not go for less than five million madol even firsthand. Your vision greyed at the sight of her, and when you came to your senses, everyone breathed a sigh of relief before spending the rest of the evening treating you as something at least as delicate and precious as her.

~*~*~*~

It's just past sunset, and guests are still milling about. You're not really looking at them, though - you're losing your little friend.

Grim's only himself in daylight, now. Once the night hits, he goes back to the strange, feral thing that laid your wrist open to eat a chunk of solid ink. He's gone twitchy, wordless, pacing with his now headless robot fish in his mouth, before finally tearing through the brambles to god-knows-where.

"... I don't know what to do about it. He doesn't come back at night anymore. What if he doesn't come back at all one night?"

"I won't let that happen." Idia was draped over the back of your chair, idly playing with the wrapping on your wrist. You couldn't see his face, but a curious tension was clear in his voice. "How many of those crystals has he eaten?"

"All of them, as far as I know." There may have been one on the camping trip that you were mercifully excluded from; thankfully your restraining order against Vargas meant that Grimm had been allowed to attend by himself. Good thing, too, your period had arrived weeks early. "Do you think it's like mercury poisoning? The effects get worse as more collects in his body?"

"Maybe. It's something to look into."

You snorted, lightly. "What do you know about it?"

"... Less than I'd like." Before you could ask, he leaned down to your ear to whisper, "I'd rather know you."

"What, now?" You looked around at the tables. "There's still people here-"

You barely stifled a cry when he nipped at your earlobe. "I put on something nice for you~" You could hear the smirk in his voice as he played every trick in his book to goad you. "Unwrap me and see~"

It took every ounce of self control in you to not throw him down on the table and take him right there, in front of God and every student in the school.

~*~*~*~

"I'm too late, I see."

"Close that damned door before everyone hears."

Malleus obediently shut the door to the balcony before setting his slotted pillow on the dresser. "They couldn't even if they had their ear to the door, I soundproofed all our rooms months ago."

"Aren't you clever. Did they buy the excuse?"

"I think that they would have believed that you were going to bed if you did not say it as soon as Shroud went inside looking very proud of himself."

You flopped back onto your pillows, eliciting a sleepy grunt from Idia. "Shit."

"And if you didn't trip on the stairs in your haste."

"Now you're making fun of me."

"Perhaps," he smiled, sitting at the foot of your bed and idly stroking your leg.

"So, why didn't you tail up after us?"

"I am, if I try very hard, capable of some discretion, even when it comes to you," he huffed. "And anyway, someone had to see everyone off, get everything put away, and bring the gifts inside."

Your face fell. "I'm sorry-"

He crept up to put a finger to your lips. "It was very simple. Now," he pressed himself against you and turned to look at Idia's drowsing form, "what is this?"

You snickered lightly to yourself. "I think he found my browsing history." All you'd left on him was a fine pair of silk stockings, with delicate stripes from thigh to toe. You'd never thought he'd even consider wearing something like that, but your pretty blue boy was so full of surprises.

Malleus hummed to himself as he reached out a hand, dragging a finger along one bruised hip. Idia only sighed and fluttered his lashes, and Mal let out a stuttering gasp.

"Do you think," he whispered, voice hoarse, "that if I took these off with my teeth, that he would still stay asleep?"

You felt faint at the thought. "I don't know, but let me watch you try."

~*~*~*~

You awoke, later, to Idia sitting with the blankets pooled around his waist, five of his blue screens open. You couldn't make much sense of them, too sleepy to make out the letters on their obnoxious brightness, so you reached out both hands to squeeze his waist.

He yelped and scowled at you. "Go to sleep."

"No, you." The screens weren't making any more sense, but there was, briefly, a picture of Grim. "What are you working on?"

"I'm almost done," he said, which was not an answer but you were too tired to notice, so you reached up his back to wind a few locks of hair around your hand - and pulled, which lead to another annoyed yelp as he quickly saved and closed his work. "Just say you're weak to light attacks instead of doing that."

"You know I am." When he finally laid back down beside you, you put your face to his chest, as much to block out the light from his hair as for warmth and comfort. No wonder he slept so poorly, he literally gave off blue light every hour of the day, that only dimmed once he was already asleep. "Tell me about it later, okay?"

"Later," he said, and you drifted off between your two boys, which was almost as nice as sleeping with Grim in your bed, but this would have to do until he got better.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #malleus draconia #idia shroud #twst grim

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