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invisible-storyteller · 8 months

Text

Everybody wants some (Stiles)

(Also on AO3.)

"Dare," Erica grinned after a moment of suspense.

Lydia rolled her eyes, having anticipated Erica's answer ever since the beta had presented her suggestion of a "fun" game to a very tipsy, and very bored group of college students. It had been the fourth pack night in a row after everyone had finally arrived for their summer break and there were only so many movies they could watch, plus it was still better than Scott's suggestion of spin the bottle.

Speak of the devil.

"Everyone has chosen dare so far," Scott noted with the faintest pout on his lips, clearly disapproving of the humiliating tasks distributed so far.

Erica smacked her lips, giving Scott a taunting smile. "Fine. I changed my mind. Truth."

"Can she do that?" Isaac questioned but Scott only shrugged, not caring about the rules as long as no one else was forced to drink spoiled milk from a bowl like a puppy again.

"Okay, so..." Allison leaned forward, a foreboding shadow casting over her face that Erica met head-on, "If you weren't with Boyd, who would you fuck out of everyone in this room?"

Erica raised a single eyebrow, visibly unimpressed. "Stiles, duh."

It was almost superhuman how quickly Stiles straightened up in an instant, his mind having wandered off to fantasies of a certain socially inept alpha who had excused himself from his own living room as soon as the pack had settled down to play, and now getting jolted back into reality.

"That's boring. Everyone knows you had a crush on Stiles." Malia piped up from where she rested her head in Kira's lap, the kitsune's fingers carding through the locks of her hair absent-mindedly.

"You say that like you wouldn't fuck him if you had the chance."

"Of course, I would," Malia shrugged like it was no big deal.

Stiles, on the other hand, nearly choked on his tongue.

"That's not a surprise, either, you actually dated him." Lydia pointed out, and Stiles could only snap his eyes back and forth between the two girls, trying to frantically grasp just when he had lost track of the conversation.

"You don't have to sound so condescending," Stiles mumbled out eventually, his eyes finally pausing on Lydia.

"Oh, honey, you can't be this oblivious."

And Stiles totally wasn't imagining the knowing looks on his packmates' faces.

"About what?" He asked (damn his curiosity), feeling the usual trepidation that came with the whole 'being in a pack with not-so-mythical creatures' schtick.

Erica only snickered as she cuddled into Boyd's side, mischief dancing behind her thick eyelashes and promising no good. "About how everyone wants to breed you in this pack."

Okay, Stiles definitely choked this time (and Scott may have been a bit too enthusiastic with his back slaps) or maybe he fell asleep and was having the weirdest sexy dream without actual sex happening. Although, Lydia's offended yet conceding glance to the side looked pretty real.

"Wha-at?" Stiles wheezed out very eloquently between two consecutive coughs, and got immediately startled by the fact that Mason was the one to answer.

"Everyone in this pack has been attracted to you at one point," Mason clarified as if it was the most common knowledge in the world. Corey's agreeing nod did not help lift the fog in Stiles's mind at all.

"What."

"Say, Lydia, did you ever think of fucking Stiles?" Erica asked, a sadistic grin spreading wider on her firey red lips.

"Of course," Lydia replied, honest and simple, even flicking her hair for extra effect.

"Since when?" Stiles asked, a little outraged. He had spent many years pining after Lydia, so the fact that she hadn't shared this crucial piece of information with him was a bit of a punch into his teenage self's heart. Oh, and there was that tiny detail that Lydia had a boyfriend.

"Remember when we were hiding in the school from a rogue Peter?"

Stiles nodded, eyes squinting in suspicion as he recalled that dreadful night.

"You remember punching Jackson?"

And just like that, Stiles's jaw hit the ground, funny animation movie sound effects and all that. His chest subconsciously puffed out when he heard Jackson scoff indignantly, and continued to stare at Lydia, feeling like he was seeing her in a completely new light. "Wait, you liked that?! That turned you on?"

"Of course," Lydia parrotted with incongruous disinterest, "Still wouldn't have dated you. But I do enjoy a good display of dominance."

This had to be an alternate universe. Or a hyper-realistic dream, Stiles deduced.

"Okay, that makes... wow, three people who thought about getting all up on this," Stiles said in a daze with a half-aborted gesture to his body. Admittedly, the number was impressive (since he had always assumed it to be zero) but, at the same time, it was far from being the entire pack as Erica and Mason had so confidently claimed.

As if reading his mind, Lydia's sweet voice filled the loft once again.

"Hey, Ally, didn't you consider dating Stiles at one point?" Lydia addressed the other girl out of nowhere, making Stiles turn towards his long-time friend with a look teetering someplace between pure shock and utter horror.

"Yeah?" Allison's uncertain response launched her into a pensive moment, probably rummaging through her memories before frowning in mild amusement. "That was actually your fault I think."

"Wha-" Stiles opened his mouth to say something along the lines of 'what the fuck' but Lydia beat him to it.

"It was before prom," Lydia reminisced with an honest-to-God smile, "You were insufferable and tried to convince me to go with Stiles. I told you that if you think he's such a great catch, maybe you should be the one going with him."

Allison snapped her fingers as if the memory had been at once revealed to her as well. "Oh yeah. I remember thinking that he would be a gentleman in bed."

"Ugh..." Honestly, at this point, Stiles's brain was officially out of order. Dial-up error noise, no signal sign, all that jazz. He seriously didn't think the night could get any more absurd, but then again, this was his life, with the constant motto being 'fuck Stiles's sanity', so what was he expecting, really?

"I would feel so grossed out right now if I didn't have fantasies about Stiles, too," Isaac revealed nonchalantly, and to that, Stiles had to make a face. "What? I just wanted to see if I can shut you up."

"With your mouth," Erica added with a conspiring smirk. Stiles really hated her right now. She was the one responsible for this whole avalanche collapsing onto poor unsuspecting Stiles in the first place.

"I had the same thought," Boyd added, apparently joining in on the 'let's wreck Stiles's world' plan, "Although I was planning to shut your mouth with something else."

Stiles's mouth decided at that moment that it was just going to assume a permanent open position, gaping like a fish out of water (cause that was exactly how he felt), which didn't help his case, in hindsight.

"Stiles does have an oral fixation," Malia chimed in, everyone else nodding along like that wasn't news at all.

"Seriously, guys? This- okay, Scotty, help me out here," Stiles pleaded, unsure of how to feel about everything that had been spoken so far, but still solid in the faith for his quasi-brother, "You did not have sexual fantasies about me, right? We're best friends. Brothers from another mother."

Stiles really wished Scott wouldn't have pulled the world's most apologetic and guilt-ridden grimace at that.

"Remember when we went to that pool party in eighth grade?"

Stiles didn't like where this was going, but yes, he could sort of remember. That day marked the first time Stiles had drunk alcohol - some cheap booze their classmate's brother had stashed somewhere in his room. It was also the summer Stiles's body had finally gained some definition so he wasn't too shy about forgoing a shirt.

"You asked me to put sunscreen on your back?" Scott continued with hunched shoulders like he could hide from his own words, and Stiles's eyes popped open in realization.

"Dude."

"That's why I had to go to the bathroom," Scott scratched the back of his neck with flaming cheeks, "Twice."

"Twice?" Liam echoed, and Stiles imagined wrapping his hands around that little pup's throat and just squeezing.

"Stiles's swim shorts were very tight when he got out of the pool," Scott answered sheepishly, and much like a volcano, the pack burst into loud cheers. Stiles was seemingly alone in his mortification, mourning the loss of his innocence and feeling oddly betrayed.

"Since we're being honest," Oh God, why was Jackson talking?, "I did have some dreams about Stilinski, and in my defence, I was still in the closet back then and it was a small locker room, okay? I'm not responsible for my thoughts after seeing what he's packing."

"I did think about making out with him when we were on a stakeout," Theo added, a bit too eager to be part of the pack in Stiles's opinion.

This was all too much. Probably a bigger conceptual change than the discovery of the supernatural's existence. Stiles couldn't help it, therefore, in the following silence where everyone awaited his final reaction with baited breaths, he realized there was only one thing left to do: laugh.

"Okay, wow," Stiles breathed out between bouts of laughter, almost doubling over himself as he clutched his sides, "Nice joke, guys. Really. Prank of the year. Picking on the single pringle in the pack. Did you rehearse this?"

There was something unsettling in the look his packmates shared.

Malia looked around then with a neutral expression and exclaimed. Loudly. "Raise your hand if you ever thought about kissing or fucking Stiles."

Everybody's hands, without exception (Stiles checked), shot up high into the air like they were pulled by strings (Mason might have had to nudge Liam in the side but he, too, raised his hand with eyes downcast in shame), and it was the most out-of-left-field reaction at that moment, but Stiles suddenly felt a glimmer of hope that maybe... no. That was and had always been wishful thinking. Even if, apparently, Stiles was the epitome of bonability in his peers' eyes.

Right on cue, a deep rumble came from the bottom of the stairs, startling absolutely no one besides Stiles who was still momentarily lost in adjusting his worldview.

"What is happening?"

It was truly fascinating how reluctant everybody seemed to answer now in the face of that gruff voice. Stiles, for the most part, could only swallow past the sound of his own rabbiting heartbeat.

"Just playing some stupid game," Jackson deflected as his hands, in comical synchrony with all others', dropped to his sides.

"What game?" Derek pried, arms crossing across his chest and making the muscles bulge threateningly, not that Stiles noticed.

"It's called... 'Who's thought about kissing Stiles'?" Kira replied with a tamer version of the truth, although Stiles had no doubt that Derek had heard the original statement if his 'what brain-dead moron do you take me for' frown was any indication.

Nervous laughter bubbled out of Stiles, and he clapped his hands for lack of a better idea on how to diffuse the situation. The pack was engaging in some creepy version of a stare-down with their alpha, and from Isaac's uncomfortable squirming, it was evident that the others had felt the uncanny chill of Derek's look, too. Even Stiles had the uncomfortable impression of a noose tangling around his neck, awaiting (perhaps) a sentence or an order, and he was eerily reminded of the early days of knowing Derek. Things had been better in recent years so the current tension in the room was all the more puzzling, especially since the pack rarely acted so unassertive around their alpha.

"Well, at least we know one person who hasn't, right?" Stiles joked weakly in the silence, his smile short-lived against the strangely intense leer on Derek's face.

If anything, their alpha's features hardened at the words, his (thankfully still normal) eyes blazing with a heat that Stiles had never seen outside the throes of battle. It was doing some very ill-timed things to Stiles.

Unsurprisingly, Lydia was the first to stand up, the light shake of her head accompanied by a soft "Oh, Stiles" before she made the smart move and left, rousing everyone else into action. Derek kept glaring at the pack until they dribbled out one by one, some sending Stiles encouragement (like Erica with her thumbs up) but ultimately abandoning him in the loft with a displeased alpha to handle. Stiles gaped after his traitorous friends, arms stretched open in disbelief and no clue about anything that had gone down so far. If there was a way to say "???" out loud, Stiles would have done that right then and there.

"Wha- guys?" Stiles asked just as the metal door violently slid shut. It was thunderous in the otherwise empty loft.

He whipped around swiftly and poked his thumb in the direction of the exit because that felt like the next logical thing to do when a murderous-looking werewolf began to move towards him.

"I guess that means pack night's over so I'll just... Umm..."

Stiles could have sworn that he heard a growl before Derek's eyes bled into ominous red, and it was a testament to how fucked up Stiles's self-preservation instincts had become over the years that those weren't the wolfish features that had Stiles's brain melting into syrupy goo. No, that achievement could only be attributed to the sharp fangs poking out from behind Derek's pink lips, and Stiles was like 95% sure that "How would those feel buried in my skin?" was not a normal thought to have in this kind of situation.

"Has any of them touched you?"

Stiles shook his head - you know, once he had enough blood there to comprehend the question - and his hands came up unwittingly to put some barrier between him and Derek. "Hold on, what? No! It wasn't that kind of game- oh well, some of your pups were certainly touching in ways that I tried really hard to ignore- hey, you should talk to them about that! You know, privacy, I'm sure you heard... about... that..."

Derek's eyebrows gradually sank lower during his rant while Stiles's mouth slightly opened to help regulate his breathing (and why was that so hard all of a sudden?). Something in Derek's look made Stiles itchy to speak, like he had to defend himself for some reason. "It's not like any of them would actually want to fuck me- Hey, what's with the looming, dude?"

Derek's eyes narrowed wordlessly onto Stiles's chest where the human's heart rate spiked from feeling the solid surface of the door hit his back. He hadn't noticed how fast Derek was crowding in on him, and something about that fact made Stiles think of one of those National Geographic documentaries. You know, where the gazelle gets mauled.

"Dude, if you want me to leave, just say so. You don't gotta go all Michael Myers on me-"

"Would you let them?" Derek slurred around his fangs, eyes meandering like he was trying to catalogue all of Stiles's (very straightforward and very communicative) reactions, "Would you let anyone in the pack fuck you?"

Stiles shook his head so fast, he almost felt dizzy afterwards.

Derek's eyes faded back to green then, and he withdrew his body heat that Stiles hadn't even taken note of up until that point. With the proximity confiscated, Stiles felt a tinge of disappointment as well as a buttload (hah) of confusion - the same emotions somehow getting reflected back at him in Derek's eyes before the werewolf sculpted his face into his usual neutral look.

Stiles had never had a more life-changing lightbulb moment before (previous truth or dare game included), and he felt the urge to facepalm at himself.

"I mean, it depends..." Stiles trailed off, Derek's hostile yet curious eyebrows making a reappearance. "I, um..."

Instead of bothering with words, Stiles licked his bottom lip as a test and delighted when Derek's eyes followed the movement with failing restraint. With a sudden burst of confidence, he pushed away from the door and violated Derek's personal space as much as he could get away with without actual touching.

"Raise your hand if you have a crush on Derek Hale.

Derek frowned, his eyebrows doing some weird high jumps when Stiles sneaked a hand up into the air and wiggled his fingers for emphasis. This time, when the werewolf's eyes caught his, they were consumed by darkness instead of alpha red but were no less promising. And when Derek grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, literally tripping Stiles into a kiss, that was something Stiles was for once expecting and welcomed with an eager moan.

As it turned out, nobody wanted Stiles as much as Derek Hale did.

And out of all the reveals that day, that was the only one that truly mattered to Stiles.

#sterek #original: sterek fanfic

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riality-check · 10 months

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riiaaa!! for the 100 ways to say i love you prompts, #1 and steddie please!!

(this is also very late, but here we go!)

"Pull over, let me drive for a while."

"Steve."

"Mhm."

"Steve."

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna drive us off the road."

"I'm fine," Steve says, and Eddie watches from the passenger seat as the car moves a full two feet onto the shoulder.

And people have the nerve to criticize his driving.

"Yeah, no," Eddie says. "Pull over, let me drive for a while."

"I got it," Steve says, a mid-sentence yawn ruins his credibility.

Eddie sighs. Steve is more than just a good dude; he's become one of Eddie's closest friends over the past few months, thank you, trauma bonding. But even though Steve Harrington is a good person, he's exceptionally stubborn when he wants to be, and driving his Beemer is the most stubborn he ever gets.

Seriously, though? He needs to sleep. He's gonna get them hurt otherwise.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says, and where that came from, he's going to blame on the sleep deprivation, "please. I promise I won't scratch your car."

Steve straightens up at that. Sneaks a glance at Eddie out of the corner of his eye. Relaxes his grip on the wheel.

"Okay," he says, and he puts his blinker on, pulls onto the shoulder. "Yeah, you can drive."

Eddie breathes out a sigh of relief as they switch seats. He's lucky he and Steve are the same size, nearly; he doesn't have to adjust the seat or the mirrors.

He glances at Steve, just to make sure he's settled, before he shifts the car into gear and gets them back on the road toward Hawkins.

Move in was a success all around. First Nancy, in Boston, then Jonathan in New York, then Robin in Philadelphia. Steve and Eddie had nothing else to do, the gas money to spare, and a want to help out. Taking the Beemer seemed stupid until Eddie was reminded by everyone, less than nicely, that the van would fall apart on a drive to Indy, nevermind to three different cities on the East Coast.

They fit less boxes, but at least they made the journey without breaking down.

And now they're on their way back, at nearly midnight with four hours left to go, because it makes more sense to drive than to find an affordable hotel that's not a shithole in Philadelphia.

"This is weird," Steve mumbles.

"What is?"

"Letting someone else drive my car," he explains. "Last time, I was concussed, and Max almost drove us into a telephone pole."

"Mayfield?"

"Yeah, back in '84. Hargrove beat the shit out of me so bad I could barely think, the kids had to get somewhere, and she was the only one who knew at least a little about how to drive."

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. "Everything I learn about you is weirder and weirder."

"I didn't even tell you the worst part."

"Which is?"

"I was so out of it, I thought Mike was Nancy."

Eddie cackles, wiping the tears from his eyes as he continues to drive. Thank god no else is on the road.

"They don't even look alike," he wheezes.

"In my defense," Steve says with a smile, "I did have brain damage."

"Past tense?"

Steve punches him in the shoulder. "Asshole."

Eddie rubs over the spot with one hand and keeps driving with the other. It's nice, this time of night. No one on the road, warm enough to have the windows cracked in the pitch black. Music playing loud enough to hear but low enough to have a conversation over.

It helps that Steve's rich-boy car drives smoother than anything else Eddie's been behind the wheel of, and Eddie's been behind a lot of different wheels in his life.

"Thanks," Steve says after a little while.

"For what?"

"Driving."

"Of course," Eddie says, because he means it. Of course he'd drive when Steve can't. It's what you do for the people you-

Eddie looks over at Steve. He's kicked his shoes off and scrunched his knees to his chest on the passenger seat. He's curled up, toward Eddie, with his hair fanned out and his cheek squished against his knee, eyes closed. The streetlights, as they race by them, cast his skin in varying shades of silver and gold, highlighting the contrast of his freckles.

-love.

Eddie's doing this because it's what he does for the people he loves.

It's a quieter realization than he expected. Eddie has loved a lot of people like he loves Wayne and his friends, but he's never been in love before. He thought it would be an all-consuming, heart-racing crash, a collision bringing fire and constriction, needing the jaws of life to pull him out.

This isn't like that. This is liking being a little kid, jumping off the couch, and knowing someone is waiting at the bottom to catch him. There's the feeling of danger, sure, but he knows what's at the bottom.

He wonders how long he's known. Long enough for that love, the love he has for Steve, to be something comfortable and warm in his chest.

Steve's hand rests on the space between them, palm up, outstretched. Eddie takes it and squeezes it.

And, though Steve is surely asleep, he thinks he might squeeze back.

Prompts here.

#ria writes #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steddie ficlet #fluff #asked and answered #stevethehairington #thanks for asking!!

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eldritch-spouse · 7 months

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Going out for ice cream with Obie and having him feed you the ice cream knowing FULLY WELL this is going to end with you cleaning the mess off his fingers with your mouth (of course there is intense eye contact, that's a given). I need to bother this man so he's steaming in public but unable to do anything about it ‼️ raaaaugh!!!

[Reader is implied fem, but can be read as neutral.]

TW: Semi-public; Foodplay; Unsanitary.

You've always been a bit nervous about taking Obie out to eat anywhere.

Meals are important for gluttons, which means that, to many of them, which restaurant you choose to have your dates in and what you order can be the decisive blow to a newly blossoming romance. Even if the mid-ranker who has his eyes on you doesn't exactly seem to be the snobbish type, you can't help chewing your nails in dread that you somehow fuck up and take Obie to the worst lunch date of his entire life- Getting brutally dumped in the process.

He laughed when you brought these concerns up, straight up telling you he'd eat off the floor if you wanted him to -Something that honestly made you worry for his sanity back then- That the mere act of trying to feed him meant everything to the glutton.

And for as much as you want to believe him, you always hesitate to make a decision, constantly fearing the worst no matter how unlikely it is that your choices would be that disastrous.

Seeing this, Obie often decides to take pressure off your shoulders by suggesting your next meal-date locations himself. And it does kind of make sense that a demon of his type would know all the best places. You just wish he'd stop recommending establishments in the Gluttony ring.

You're very scared of visiting Hell in general, it's not a place for humans, you don't care how many of them like to gloat that they set foot there and came back unharmed- You don't buy it! There's always a price to pay for dwelling in the sins. And even with a mid-ranker who was born and lived in the Rings for a good portion of his life to protect you, you're just not ready.

Obie laments this, though the demon has admitted it's clever of you to want to stay away. You're too soft, whatever he meant with that. Still, since you can't visit his favorite ice cream establishment in the Hells -That so fabled Sorbet Sabbath he's mentioned more than a few times- He's finally taken you to a surface alternative he deems decent enough.

It's nothing special, he said, as he handed you the most massive ice cream cone you've ever seen in your entire life. Three fat scoops of absolute sugary goodness staring at you with different toppings and syrups, appetizing enough to have you swallowing your own drool back up. Obie spotted that hunger immediately, beaming with that bear trap of a mouth, proud of nailing your tastes once more.

" What do you mean, nothing special?! " You nearly shout as the two of you pick a more secluded table to enjoy your treats. " This is gigantic! "

The demon wheezes, brows raised at you as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. " Dude please, this is a robbery, in Gluttony I'd pay basically the same and the scoops are double this size. "

" Fuck off. " He's joking. He has to be.

" No, for real! "

When you're both seated, you finally glance at your boyfriend's choice of treat. Your eyeballs nearly fall off their sockets. He's got like five scoops poorly balanced on that thing, there's so much syrup and sprinkles on it, you have no idea how the cone he clutches isn't disintegrating. He's going to make a mess, for sure. There's no way any person can eat that without making a fool of themselves, that little plastic spoon sticking out of the mountain of sweetness is borderline hilarious.

The yellow monster notices the staring, broken tail wagging. " Want some of mine? "

" Ah- No, no thanks. " You're pretty sure you'd have a heart attack.

Perhaps because he knows letting the thing sit for too long will end in disaster, Obie is quick to forgo conversation and focus on his ice cream. And by that, you mean he unhinges his jaw to python-like proportions, glittering rows upon rows of teeth connected by strands of hungry drool right in front of you.

An equally wet tongue slips out from its cavern to wrap all too easily along the length of the frozen delicacy, clutching it with a dexterity you've both coveted and lusted for several times, before it reaches the cone and swiftly sucks it into Obie's maw. Like a vacuum cleaner on steroids. If you blinked, you would have missed it. When the two of you started hanging out, you'd see the glutton eat this fast and you wondered if he even tasted anything he put in his mouth- You know better now.

Because after his throat bulges obscenely with the size of his meal, he licks his lips and lets out that content rumble you've grown ever so fond of. He tasted it alright, licking his lips and choppers for any trace of goodness he didn't miss.

It's an embarrassing amount of time until you tear your gaze away from him, eyes busy scrolling his form from top to bottom with an intensity that might make the hellfire creature burn alive. You could watch him for days.

You could watch him eat for days.

Damn you and your stupid fucking oral fixation.

" Hey uh- Bonbon, that's melting. "

Snapping into attention, you follow the direction of that lazily pointing claw to find that, indeed, part of your ice cream is already losing shape, dripping onto itself and nearly coating your fingers.

In the panicked pause you take to decide how to prevent the inevitable, Obie has already taken action. Bigger fingers than yours reach out to collect the stray trails, collecting the more melted sections too so that they don't start dripping immediately afterwards. You relax slightly, a ghost of a smile on your features as you expect him to shove them into his mouth and be done with it.

And yet, the demon hesitates, gaze veering from his hand to you in the sliver of a second.

" Hey now, that's my ice cream. Not fair. " You jest softly, far from expecting him to crack a toothy grin in reply.

" Oh? Yeah sure, don't let me stop you then. "

And, much to your chagrin, the glutton presents his sweetened hand your way, resting his chin on the other as he silently dares you to follow through.

Fortunately for him, you're stubborn sometimes.

There isn't a single thought resembling common decency in your mind when you lean forward and steal a quick lick of his finger tips, darting back into your seat as soon as you realize what a gross act that was to do in public.

Obie's perpetually squinted gaze widens the smallest amount, he exhales in amusement at your five seconds of bravery and his grin quickly acquires a tone befitting of his nature as a spawn of Hell.

" That's it? " He tilts his head.

" Obie, we- "

" You barely even tasted it. " That hand edges forward more.

" We're not alone! " You whisper-shout.

The demon laughs openly, clean hand gesturing to the surroundings. " Yeah? You sure? "

Your own curiosity betrays you, hues flickering all across the place and spotting only vacant tables, save for two other people seated a considerable distance away, not even facing the two of you. For all intents and purposes, you could get away with a lot. But like Hell you're saying that to his smarmy face.

" Fine. "

If his grin got any wider, it would escape his face.

The next time those fingers wiggle in your direction, you catch two between your lips, smiling as you thoroughly begin cleaning them. At the first rush of your tongue working, Obie appears to visibly shiver hard, a hint of color to the glutton's cheeks causing his shit-eating smirk to grow crooked.

Very satisfied with yourself, you leisurely pop off his digits.

" Is it any good? " Obie teases.

" Mmm. But I think you might just taste better. "

Oh.

Oh that got him revved up alright.

You gloat inwardly at knowing how to properly bother your glutton.

" Why not test that theory? "

He has the nerve to reach for your cone again, collecting more recently melted stray trails and making more of a mess than before.

After some paranoid glancing around, you decide to start with his palm, a flat and honestly less impressive muscle flattening itself against the soft creases of his skin. The quiet gasp that erupts from him only serves to further stroke your ego while you isolate one digit and thoroughly suck it clean.

" Hhn fuck. "

Your muffled giggle is almost mean-spirited.

Perhaps against your better judgement, you don't release Obie's hand, moving to the pinkie and offering it the same hungry treatment, going as far as to lick between digits before swallowing his ring finger and moaning around it.

Obie has been increasingly quiet and still throughout all of this. And even if it's always been very hard to kind of guess how much attention he's paying to something or where he might be staring, you know for a fact his attention blazes on you, rapt and unfiltered. Something that might be sweat condenses on the left side of his forehead and a faint sheen of drool coats his bottom lip. You only wish you could look beneath the table and check if there's anything going on. The possibility of Obie having popped a boner from this alone thrills you immensely.

The moment you start pulling back, the glutton jolts into movement, suddenly shoving his pointer and index into your mouth, your eyes widening like dinner plates.

" You're not done. "

That wasn't a tease anymore.

It's your turn to shudder, an almost violently quick outbreak of goosebumps raising your hairs when the very tips of his claws sit placidly on your tongue. Your shocked stillness doesn't halt Obie, whose breathing comes out in hot, barely muffled pants.

Without an inkling of shame, his digits glide on the flat of your tongue, a slow back and forth, coating themselves in your drool as he casually plays with your mouth. Your cheeks are catching up with his in terms of heat.

" Suck. "

You nearly choke.

You can't really turn your head to check anymore, so you simply pray that no one is looking when you do just that, enjoying the way he gulps and straightens. Obie's legs part the slightest amount, and you know exactly what he's trying to accommodate, the flames of your aroused confidence stoked to brand new levels.

The mid-ranker is an iota of carelessness away from cutting into his own lip while he essentially finger-fucks your mouth, humming every time you have to swallow the excess saliva or try to use your tiny tongue to lap around his digits. You know there's a myriad of nasty things going on inside that head, because you yourself are getting a few less than innocent ones. Lords know he's the kind of guy that would coat his dick in syrup in try to get you to suck him off the same way you're treating his fingers.

And the worst part is that you'd probably agree.

Maybe on purpose, or perhaps because he's getting too into it, Obie slips his digits too far down your mouth and triggers a gag from you, the sound and look of it making him growl loud enough to have you sliding down in your seat a bit from sheer embarrassment.

You're released from that lewd torment however, searching for a napkin to wipe the spittle from your lips, wondering just how much of a show an onlooker could have gotten just now. Obie feels no such pressure, playing with the strands of drool connecting his fingers while his clean hand dips to squeeze at something out of view briefly.

" I can't wait to put that little throat to use. "

He leers, grin sloppy and heated, chuckling when you lightly kick his leg.

" I guess... W- We should go home then? " Because really, he's not the only one left surprisingly turned on by this.

The glutton raises a hand. " Finish yours. Can't leave yet... "

When the demon makes a vague gesture towards his lower body, you can only snicker, nodding.

It's a bit hard to eat properly when you're aware Obie is lazily studying every lap and bite. And, at this rate, you just hope he has enough restraint not to push you against the closest conveniently placed wall...

#Obie oc #demon oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #terato tag #monsterfucker #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #monster x you #demon x human #not sfw #minors dni

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allastoredeer · 2 months

Note

~Lucifer blanches. He looks around, as if trying to find a sense of Alastor’s words somewhere in the trash-heap he calls a room, before rounding back to him, lips pulling up in disgust. “Are you asking me out?”

“Ahaha!” Alastor laughs, slapping him so hard on the back it nearly takes Lucifer off his feet. “Oh, Heavens no. I’m just proposing we let Hell continue thinking that you and I are,” he waves his hand, searching for the word, “in cahoots. In that way.”~

This is golden comedy right here. Honestly every time I read ur fic I always start wheezing so hard I can’t breathe, u are an amazing writer, hope u know that. When I saw ur last update on the ‘damage control’ chapter i was so excited i devoured it so fast help

Alastor saying he wants to be in ‘cahoots’ with Lucifer it’s so funny to me cause no one use that term anymore, and Lucifer is just downright dumbfounded that they are even having the conversation. I can imagine the shadow rolling his eyes at them, we need more sassy shadow moments, he is so underrated. 😭😭

I love that Lucifer is trying to respect Al boundaries, especially after the ‘incident’ , and doesn’t pry to much on his scars, but now I am curious about what did Al meant. Does he not remember who did that to him? 🥺

Also I am curious about what they gonna tell to the others about their new found relationship. I don’t think Lucifer would want to lie to Charlie, but I also think that it would be too risky to make the whole crew knew they are acting, someone might slip. And it’s not like Al is gonna make it easy for Lucy anyway. If they want to be credible, less ppl knowing it’s best course of action for me.

Last thing~ I really wanted to thank you, cause ur fic really brings me a lot of joy since I recently only been able to find happiness in small things like these , and I I can’t wait to read more🌈

Hehehe, Alastor purposefully refusing to go into depth about their "sexual relationship," and even side-stepping outright calling it a relationship, is what's going to make it all more entertaining when he actually has to commit to the bit. Cuz you see, they're not fucking. They're "in cahoots."

It's different.

(I love Alastor's Shadow being sassy. If it's attached to Alastor, it has to be. I take no critiques.)

😈 Alastor and his scars is something I'm very excited to get into it. I've been thinking about them for a while, and while it may take a bit to actually get the answer, I'm very eager to get there when we do.

The way I see it, Alastor doesn't want to tell the others (as they already know their not actually dating--as he made VERY clear last time), but Lucifer isn't going to be okay with lying to Charlie. Out of the group, Alastor knows he can trust Husk and Niffty to keep it a secret. Maybe Angel Dust too. But he's most worried about Charlie and Vaggie.

Vaggie isn't a good liar, and Charlie's such an open, bright, heart-on-her-sleeves person, he doesn't trust her to keep up the ruse without letting something slip--most likely by accident.

But Lucifer is stubborn. He doesn't want to lie to Charlie, and if he tells Charlie, Charlie is going to tell Vaggie. If Vaggie knows, well, we already know she has a hard time lying on the spot, so if the others see Alastor and Lucifer suddenly "in cahoots," and ask about it, she's not going to be able to come up with a plausible excuse on the fly.

This is all to say, the next installment is going to be full of silly Hazbin Crew hijinks, where Alastor is forcefully enrolled into Chaggies Dating 101 Crash Course, and he is definitely not setting the grading curve. (And maybe we'll even get a bit of HuskerDust thrown in there, who knows. Certainly not me).

And it warms me so much to know that my fic can bring you joy in a time that such things are scarce 🥺 I can't wait to share more of the story with you!

#seriously #getting asks like these brighten my day to know end #I like keeping actual story elements and plot hooks a secret until we get there in the fic #but GOD #when you guys ask questions about it I just want to blab everything #ive got so many thoughts on the brain and I wanna SHAARRREEEE #Im so happy my fic is helping through a hard time #that's such an amazing thing to hear and i sincerely hope that whatever situation your in gets better #in the meantime #pls accept these absolute goofuses stumble their way into an actual queer relationship #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #lucifer morningstar #the radio demon #appleradio #lucifer magne #asks #charlie hazbin hotel #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #niffty #charlotte morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #husk #hazbin husk

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ponyosmom35 · 9 months

Text

comfort

Simon Riley x reader

Liability series chapter twenty eight

Synopsis: reader gets into a massive fight about politics with her father, leaving her upset as she and Simon go up to her room to calm her down.

Warnings: fighting, angst, cursing, fluff, Simon is a sweetheart.

Liability series:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

she rushes up to her room with Simon hot on her trail. His heavy footsteps following hers as shes stomp to her childhood room. She slams the door open ignoring the loud yells from her father from downstairs. She paces back and forth as Simon gently closes the door.

“no he’s such a fucking idiot! I literally don’t understand how the fuck he can act this way?! Like he doesn’t fucking listen, he just waits for me to be done talking so he can push his idiotic views on me fuck it’s so goddamn stupid I hate being here!” she rants loudly

“baby” Simon says gently

She whip around to face him, her red and angry face finds him sitting on her bed scratching the back of his head. “am I wrong? I mean you can’t just pick and choose when you support trans rights, you can’t sit here and say that you don’t care what people do as long as their happy and then turn around and make all of those horrible points! what the fuck that is fucking insane and it makes me sick that he thinks that way! It doesn’t even make any fucking sense” she exclaims

“love-”

“Simon he just keep interrupting me without letting me get a single point out, like that isn’t how you have a fucking conversation let me speak, why don’t you respect me enough to hear what I have to say?”

“y/n-”

“I listen to him and once I start to speak about something that he doesn’t agree with- that's when he stops listening. Give me basic respect goddamn he has no idea how to talk to somebody then the fucking gaslighting starts, ‘oh I'm sorry I’m a terrible father who you can't stand I love you more than you'll ever know’ shut the fuck up with that I’m not gonna feel sorry for you and apologize this is a matter of human fucking rights-”

“baby stop, take a deep breath” Simon interrupts. She glares at him as she attempts to keep her anger at her father rather than shifting it to him. “do you agree with him or something?” she asks, crossing her arms.

Simon stands and places his hands on her shoulders, staring down at her lovingly. He knew that it took quite a lot to work her up to the point where she would actually fight. Once she reached that level she was not gonna back down. Though he didn’t like seeing her fight with her father, he coudln’t help but admire the way she stuck up for what she believed in. He smiles “no I’m so proud of you and how you fought for what's right. you are 100% correct with everything you said”

“its so fucking infuriating” She says as her lips begins to tremble. Her eyes gloss over and she tries to blink away the tears but they fall quickly. He pulls her into a hug instantly, rubbing her back comfortingly. “I know lovie”

“I’m not even upset it’s just…” She trials off “I get it” he responds

Simon pulls back slightly, pushing her hair behind her ears and wiping the tears. She sniffles and he lets her go, allowing her to take off her glasses and clean them off from the fresh tears. She stares at the wall as the voices of her parents arguing through the walls pierces her ears. Simon wraps himself around her, pulling ger into him as he holds his head on her shoulder. She holds onto his forearm as he begins rocking them back and forth. He starts kissing her neck, knowing how ticklish she was there.

She bursts out laughing at the song and allow him to turn her body, so they were facing each other. He pulls her into him, lifting her up in the air over his shoulder. She gasps as the air is taken from her lungs and wheezes loudly. “put me down” she laughs

“sorry love, I can’t control myself” he says in his thick british accent. She cackles as he spins us around three times. His hand slaps her ass as he allows her to slide down to his chest. He holds her body close and falls limp, smiling up at him. He clutches her tighter and she gasps as it begins to hurt. She wraps her arms around his neck and pull myself around him. Allowing him to hold her like a child.

“I love you so much” she said.

“I love you too darling”

a/n

this is based on a real fight I got into with my dad, I wish I had a Simon to calm me down ugh

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jakkon-and-rose-topic · 16 days

Text

Cw: Mentions to Cannibalism, Alchohol abuse/usage, Murder, torture, Slavery, and VERY HEAVY SWEARING

@corinneglass YOU ASKED FOR THIS also, @blueberryseast1 @darkandstormydolls @aalinaaaaaa here's a new scene for you lovelies :]]]

ARGUMENT TIME

Fuck it, it's probably bad, but I'm not editing it anymoreeeeee

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

“Horns. What's wrong?” Rose eyed her brother-in-law.

Jakkon shrank down in his seat. “It's nothing, Petals.”

“Clearly not!”

“Please just let it go.”

“No, you're making things worse by not telling me!”

“Rose, I'm fine.”

“Oh Really Jak? Because you sure don't look like it.” Rose narrowed her eyes. “Stop trying to lie to me! Your hands are fucking shaking! You look paler than a piece of parchment, like you're going to be sick at any moment! You can't say a single kind word, and your voice sounds like you've been shredded through a cheese grater! Just tell me what's wrong!”

“NO! There's nothing wrong! This whole fucking conversation is the thing making things worse! Everything you say is so patronizing! ‘How was your day Jak? You're gonna be okay Jak. Everything you do is a source of stress Jak. Everything's gonna be okay Jak! Look at me Jak, I can cry without seeing Eveny die in my mind Jak. I have the capacity to care about someone other than myself because I'm a good fucking person Jak!’ JUST SHUT UP!”

“Well I can’t do what you want and leave you alone if you’re around me! I won’t leave until I know what’s bothering you!”

Jakkon gritted his teeth as Rose glared hotly at him. “Fine.” He growled, voice deep and gravelly, the smoke damage adding to the menace of his snarl. “You want to know Rose? It’s you. Every day it’s just worry, worry, worry, ‘I worry about you. You’re worrying me Jak.’ STOP! YOU’RE ONLY STRESSING ME OUT MORE AND MAKING IT WORSE! NO ROSE, IT’S NOT GOING TO BE OKAY! I’M NOT GOING TO BE OKAY! AND IT’S TIME YOU LEARNED THAT!” Jakkon gasped, his breaths rasping like his voice as the wheeze from his damaged lungs cut itself on the shattered tension in the air.

Rose clenched her fists, wings unfurling as her Petals grew black and red, thorns spiking out all over her as she growled, matching his intensity. “WELL YOU DON’T TELL ME A DAMN THING JAK! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? ALL YOU DO IS DRINK AND TRY TO FUCKING KILL YOURSELF! I CARE ABOUT YOU!”

“Do you want to know why Rosenia?” Both were shouting now, voices matched in intensity and anger, so that their volume didn’t have any more impact. But neither quieted. Even with Rose’s voice choked by tears and Jakkon’s shredding itself with ash. He gripped at his fur, hands shaking violently as he exposed sharp teeth and Rose’s vines wrapped around her arms. Jakkon tensed at the thorns, his voice rising to a strained tone. “Why do I do it Rosenia? Because I’m more addicted than the sun is to rising! BECAUSE EVERYONE I KNEW, EVERYONE I LOVED IS FUCKING DEAD!”

In that moment, anger combined with fear and grief, and the sharp tension cut their words into things neither ever meant, or wanted to say. But nonetheless, they hurt. Rose’s thorns spiked to twice their length as she grabbed Jakkon’s shirt and yanked him down a little, lowering her voice to a snarl. “You’re fucking worthless Jakkon. Why can’t you just get a grip on yourself and Let. It. Go.”

Jakkon’s eyes widened for a moment, stunned and hurt for a moment, before the heat of the moment took him back and he retaliated, slapping her hand away from him hard enough to make her cry out in pain. “Fuck off Rosenia! You don’t care about me. You didn’t care about them either. All you care about is running away from your guilt by pretending to care about me just to fix your own sad excuse for a fucking life.”

Rose froze this time, cradling her injured hand against her chest, but neither slowed from the hurt, the pain just fueling both of them in all of their unspoken emotions. “That’s because you’re a mistake, and everyone who loves you makes a mistake. A mistake that gets them killed. And what do you do? You don’t honor their memory one bit. You destroy yourself. Just be honest from once in your damn life and maybe someone would care!”

In that moment, with those words, any last shred of dishonesty and blame Jakkon had, which held him from telling Rose the truth snapped. He stopped caring about protecting her, about letting her believe what she had about his past and his family. And he told her everything.

His voice dropped everything but a solemn tone and the scratchy rasp of smoke. “You want honesty? Then have it. This is what you wanted.” His tone lifted to a high mocking tone as he made a nasty face. “Why, Rosenia? You and your little fragile little heart want to know why I can’t let go?” His voice fell back down. “Because Eveny, Rune and I were kidnapped for those two weeks we were missing. They were tortured while I was chained to a wall and forced to watch. Then he made me choose. Our Captor looked at my wife and my son and told me to choose which would die. I didn’t choose. So he injured both badly and let me free. Eveny was strong. She could handle it. She only fell unconscious. Rune couldn’t hear me when I talked to him, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.”

Jakkon paused to take a trembling breath as Rose stopped entirely, too horrified and confused to interrupt. “So I had to make a split second decision. He was going to die. Would I let him live for a finite more amount of time and endure all that pain? No. I took his pain away. That’s what I told myself Rosenia. ‘I'm taking his pain away. I'm giving him peace. I can only take one to get a healer and I can’t let his final moments be alone.’ that’s what I told myself, that’s what I still tell myself every time I remember driving the knife into his back.”

Jakkon looked like he wanted to stop, like he was about to be sick at any moment, but he choked back the tears and regret and pushed forward. “Then while Eveny was in a coma because she was tortured to hurt me. I was sent to war. All the friends I made, they broke. They couldn’t think either, shocked out of who they were by what they had done. I took care of them for 2 years. I never visited Rune’s grave, and for all I knew, Eveny would die any day and I wouldn’t be there. But they were all I had to talk to. Then they went missing. One by one. Eveny woke up. I thought things might go back to normal. But then… but then she… she… she burned. It was my fault. And… she didn't burn alone. I found that… if she'd been alive for 7 more months… I would have had a second child. Then someone stole her corpse.”

Rose flinched.

“But that’s not the end of it Rose. Listen to me very closely, you understand? This is the most important part. Why I can’t sleep. Why I can’t eat. I was taken two days after. I was sold. And I was bought by a Serial Killer. I worked for my freedom. But he tied me up Rosenia. He tied me to a post. I couldn't move. He gagged me, drugged me, tortured me. But worst of all, he took the corpses of my friends whom he had killed and cut them into tiny pieces in front of my eyes. Then he came over to me, and forced them down my throat, piece by bloody fucking piece. But that’s not it either Rosenia, is it? Because the final corpse wasn’t a friend. It was her. It was Eveny.”

Rose stopped, her eyes widening in horror as Jakkon began to shiver, wrapping his arms around himself. “I loved her more than anything in the world, Rose. Then she was taken from me. But then they gave her back, tiny piece by tiny piece. She was a person, my love, my life, my everything AND I FUCKING ATE HER ROSE!” His voice splintered, turning into a raspy screeching mess as he screamed and his hands flew to his head, tearing viciously at handfuls of his thick black curls.

Rose flinched back away from him as he began to mutter under her breath as his words previously from the argument and this new news all hit her like a mountain crumbling over her, as she stared at her brother-in-law in horror, and ran.

“Hey, what's all the shouting-” Finn froze in the doorway as Jakkon shook violently, muttering to himself.

“Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Purple. Petals. Blood. Ash. Shadows… get it out… get it out… they already cut the exit, GET IT OUT OF ME! THEY’RE WATCHING ME FROM THE SHADOWS! THEY KNOW WHAT I AM! THEY KNOW WHAT IVE DONE! Drip drip, tick tock, crushed between my teeth. THEY KNOW EVERYTHING!”

“What-” Finn stopped. “What the fuck is going on? What are you talking about? What the fuck? Jakkon. Jakkon. Jakkon!”

But the Satyr didn’t respond, giggling maniacally as he ripped at more of his hair. “Petals, pretty flowers, sunset, sunrise, what does it matter? They watch me all the same and They know what I've done. I'M SORRY! I’M SORRY! I DIDN’T WANT TO! I DIDN’T MEAN TO! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME ALONE! Leave me alone. Leave me alone.” He whimpered softly, drawing his knees to his chest.

“Jakkon!” Finn suddenly stopped, remembering the phrase he'd overheard his old friend say to Rose when he'd walked by. ‘I’m more addicted than the sun is to rising.’ Withdrawals. Of course. How had he not suspected? With the limited supplies, he had prioritized everyone but himself. His shaky hands, his constant irritability since the supply shortage had begun, and now the hallucinations. Rose had told him everything and he still hadn't picked it up.

#creative writing #fiction writing #writer things #writeblr #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing community #writing #whump torture #whump series #because whump #whump tropes #whump writing #whump prompt #whump community #whumpblr #whump

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angelltheninth · 6 months

Text

Better Off with You Here

Pairing: Jinx x Lux

Tags: fluff, angst, kissing, getting into fights, mention of Shimmer, blood and injury, redemption, long distance relationship, worried Lux, scary Jinx

Word count: 2k

Ao3

A/N: November 2024 everyone! More Arcane!

Jinx whistled as she bounced from one end of her room to the other, occasionally checking herself in the mirror, making sure her hair stays behind her ear and that that defiant lock of hair stays in its place over the side of her face. "Looking good Jinx! Yeah? Thanks Jinx!" She made phew-phew noise when she flashed finger-guns at the mirror.

"What do you have to look nice for?" Jinx spun around at the sound of Caitlyn's voice, one hand still doing the finger guns and now pointed at Caitlyn's chest. "Date night tonight?"

"Yeah! Luxie is visiting!" It was odd how normal of a conversation the two could have now, even with a gesture that could be taken as threatening. Jinx hummed and then chuckled when Caitlyn didn't flinch as the phew sound she made, "Kidding, kidding! I'd never shoot you Tophat."

"What's that about shooting my wife?" Vi appeared at the door, leaning against it, arms crossed over her chest. Jinx dropped the finger-guns instantly, looking very much like a scolded child whose fun was ruined.

Caitlyn chuckled and pated her sister-in-law on the head, "She's getting ready to meet Lux."

"Oh, wondered why you had those fancy pants on. Although the pink dye might take away from the black but hey, I'm not the fashion police." No she was the... not at all regular kind who was married to the Sheriff of Piltover. And the sister of a former most wanted criminal.

"Oh I'm not worried about the pants, it's this damn tie." Jinx gestured to the silver and blue tie around her wrist.

"I hate to ask... but why is that around your wrist?"

"Cause it was damn annoying trying to tie it around my neck. Besides I think the suit looks better without it. Really brings out... er... my eyes." Everything brings out the link in Jinx's eyes, which is why it was so easy for her to shop around. "Now if the two of you would excuse me, I'm gonna go meet my girlfriend, who I will then smooch and-"

Vi pulled her out the door, "Have fun, don't do anything I wouldn't and always remember to wrap it up." Her open palm collided with Jinx's back making the pyromaniac wheeze.

"Wrap what up? Gods you're gross sometimes." Jinx ran out right as Caitlyn put her hand over Vi's mouth. She was already freaking out, no matter how many years she spent in Piltover, or going back and forth to and from Zaun, she got looks. They were worse in Piltover though.

But they never made Jinx want to hide who she was. She knew she looked odd when she had all the pink on her outfit, the tie around the wrist, her hair in a ponytail that almost dragged against the floor. She didn't care that there was a group of people approaching her with frowns on their faces. She didn't care because Lux would be here soon.

Meanwhile in Demacia, one blonde mage was getting the talk from her own sister-in-law. "Remember, always go for the eyes first, groin second, and then the stomach. They can't hit you if they can't see." Katarina just finished zipping up Lux's blue dress. She wanted to match Jinx's hair, yes she was that sappy.

"When you said you wanted to have a talk about protection this isn't what I thought you meant." It was less embarrassing than the alternative, she would admit that.

"Neither of you have the proper equipment for the other type of protection. Besides this is universal knowledge, and you know how protective Garen is over you." Katarina weaved her hands through Lux's hair, getting rid of any knots in it.

"She's right. It's either that or you take guards with you." Garen's laugh boomed across the room from his spot in the chair. "Sorry Lux, it's hard for me to... I know you can handle yourself but I'm your big brother, I'll always worry about you."

Lux sighed as she leaned against the chair, she knew her brother meant well but he was a grow woman. At least Katarina was here to keep him in check, to an extent, except that one time she told Jinx she would cut off her tongue after she made a crude joke.

Was it a joke if there was truth to it?

"Thank you both for your concern but I'll be alright. It's Piltover, it's not as chaotic as Zaun." Only a small lie on Lux's part, anywhere Jinx went there was chaos. The dosage just varied. Something about that made her excited, she never knew what to expect, it made her get-togethers with her girlfriend more exciting.

She fixed her skirt and looked at herself one more time. That was as good as it was gonna get. Luckily she never ran late, she could teleport.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" She kissed both Katarina and her brother on the cheeks and teleported out and into the busy streets. "Sorry, sorry!" Lux dodged the people but not the puzzled looks. They seemed to relax once they saw the Demacian symbol on her right glove. "Jinx?" She looked around the restaurant where they were supposed to meet, she wasn't there. Odd. Maybe she got the place wrong? Should she ask-

"Fucking crazy bitch!" A woman ran out to the street, her cheek bruised.

"Huh? Are you okay?" Lux ran to her right away, voice and face conveying worry.

"People should ask her that!" The lady pointed into the alleyway. Lux peaked her head past the corner and her heart stopped.

There was Jinx, beating the living shit out of a guy who hung limp in her hand, with two more groaning in pain, one against the wall, one with his face in the dirt. She didn't know if Jinx was hurt, or how much of the blood on her clothes and fists was hers. But she knew she had to make her stop right now.

"Jinx!" Lux ran towards her but the Jinx didn't stop, even though she turned to face her.

"Flashlight. You're here!" Jinx smirked while blood covered her face, her eyes shining pink, "I've been waiting for you." The scary part was how while she was talking she kept punching and punching, spraying more blood onto herself and the ground.

"Jinx stop!" Lux lunged forward to pull her back but even restrained Jinx could still kick him in the face with her boots. "Hey, hey, Jinx, darling, look at me." She grabbed Jinx's face and forced her to look into her eyes. "Whatever they said, they're not worth this." She gestured for the group to leave while they could still walk.

The two who could still walk lifted the one who fell free from Jinx's hand and began dragging him away, quickly joined by the lady who ran out before. "Bitch should lay off the Shimmer."

Jinx grit her teeth until they bleed, but she held onto Lux as hard as she could to ground herself. Her whole body shook with adrenaline and anger, every sound becoming too much, too loud, every voice real or not overlaying in her ears. "Shhh, it's okay Jinx, you're gonna be okay, let's just take you home okay?"

"No, we got a date. I even got a tie. Oh... it's all bloody." She pouted, more upset at the blood getting on her tie than how it got there.

People quickly gathered around and started to stare, which wasn't good. Jinx was already a bloody mess and she didn't need the extra attention. Thinking quickly Lux opened another portal and leaned into it. She wasn't too picky with where in Jinx's room they appeared so she promptly tripped into Jinx's bed, getting blood all over it and her dress.

"Skipping right to the fun stuff huh? I can work with that." Lux tried not to shiver when Jinx ran her bloody hands up her legs, "You look like a nicely wrapped gift. Can't want to see what's underneath."

"Uh, maybe after we get these clothes cleaned up." The rejection visibly hurt and for the first time Jinx looked down at herself, then at her hands and then at Lux who was now on her elbows, looking up at her with pretty, yet worried eyes.

Jinx turned her head away in shame.

"Let's get you cleaned up." It was very easy to move her now, she followed along without resistance. Jinx allowed Lux to take her suit jacket off and wipe the blood of her face and fists. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about now? I ruined our date. And you... you came all the way here just to see me... I'm sorry Lux." Jinx wrapped her arms loosely around Lux's hips and leaned her forehead against her stomach. Lux knew her girlfriend was very upset when she used her name instead of one of her nicknames. "Let me make it up to you. I'll do anything you want." Jinx's voice was on the verge of breaking, she couldn't stop glancing around every now and then.

Anyone would be pained to see their lover in this state, so if Jinx needed to be reassured then that was what Lux would do, "I just want to know what happened that upset you so much." To provide some comfort she eased herself into Jinx's lap and wrapped her into a soothing hug. "I just want you to be alright."

It was probably minutes of silence but it seemed to drag on and on like hours.

"They asked how desperate you were to be with someone like me. I'm not an idiot, I know you could do better then an an ex-terrorist, and it's pretty easy to find someone who doesn't have Shimmer running through them all day. I can take the looks, the hits, the insults, but I can't take it when they drag you into it too."

So that was it. Jinx got angry on her behalf.

"While I appreciate you standing up for me, you shouldn't have beat them bloody. People like that will tell you anything to get a rise out of you." As a mage Lux heard more than her fair share of colorful insults. All behind her back of course, she was still a Crownguard. Those insults got to be few and far between the more time she spent protecting Demacia but it sickened her that she had to be of some kind of use for people to accept her for who she was.

"But... they were a bunch of jerks! I would've..." Lux interrupted her with a kiss, a very delightful surprise to be sure. Lux's lips were always so damn soft against Jinx's she could not get enough of them.

"Gone to jail. That's what could have happened. I know your sister and her wife are the Enforcers but there's only so much they can do for you." Jinx could tell how worried Lux was about her, about what she knew Jinx was capable of. "I love you Jinx, I want you to be okay, so please, no more fights like that."

"Can I yell at them at least? I have some really good insults." She had some stored up since her days of hating Caitlyn. They were good.

Lux chuckled and bumped her forehead against Jinx's, "Sure. I'd love to hear them too, so make sure I'm around." She loved it when Jinx cursed.

"Yeah? You like me saying bad stuff?" Due to Lux's prim and proper upbringing she had a real taste for dirty talk, it might even go so far as to be a kink of hers. One that Jinx regularly made her blush over, like right now when she had to hide her face by pushing Jinx down and pushing her own face into the pillow. "Gonna dirty talk your panties off tonight."

They were already coming off and Jinx didn't even have to try.

#lightcannon #jinx #luxanna crownguard #arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane angst #league of leguends #league of legends fanfiction #league of legends angst

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venusstorm · 2 years

Text

More Than Friends

Part Four

Fear. It drove apart your friendship with Chris, it prevented him from telling you how he feels, and after a big argument, you’re left wondering if he had ever even cared.

Note: Italics indicate past events

Warnings: 18+, angst, fluff

<Series Masterlist> Masterlist

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Time stops when Chris sees you. It was something like a dream, all the noise on set comes to a halt, a deafening silence ringing in his ears as he watches you ramble on to the person in front of you. Not a word you said reaches his ears but it doesn't need to.

He smiles to himself as he envisions your fast-paced tone, probably getting carried away and skipping to a million different subjects in the span of a minute. Then you break out into a wide grin, the other person giggling loudly at whatever you had said.

His mouth hung a gap, blinking slowly to make sure you weren't just a figment of his imagination and indeed right there in front of him. Someone calls out his name but it vanishes into background noise.

You were here. That's all that matters in this very moment.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Chris watching you. If he hadn't known that you were working on the same film then he sure as hell knows now. You quickly turn back towards the person, ignoring his blatant stares as you burst into a fit of giggles.

He swore his heart stopped when your eyes lingered on him.

Chris couldn't remember the last time that he heard you laugh. The thought alone sent stakes into his heart because once upon a time, the two of you laid out on the floor in a fit of laughter, wheezing and trying your hardest to breathe just to start the cycle all over again after another joke was said.

The nagging voice returns. Louder this time. "Hey uh, Chris wardrobe needs you..."

He shakes his head, "Just give me a second."

"It's urgent, we can't continue filming unless they get you fitted for the next scene."

Mindlessly he nods, reluctantly allowing his feet to take him away in the opposite direction of you. But he can't help but take one last look, eyes softening after realizing you were staring at him too.

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"And cut!"

Chris inhales deeply. It had been hell trying to film while you sat watching. It took him several takes to finally push you from his mind, engulfing himself in his role and letting real life become a minuscule thought.

You rise from your chair next to the directors, hurriedly walking over to a table covered in desserts to stuff your mouth before break ends.

Chris was tugging with his subconscious, debating if sparking a conversation on the job was truly the best idea. But heart defeats his mind and he finds himself walking over to you without an ounce of confidence.

You don't notice him at first. After all, the powdered donuts are really good.

"Hi," he states breathlessly.

You stare up at him. His face beads with sweat causing a sheer glow across his skin. Black "dust" coats his cheeks to mimic the effects of a grenade and minutes’ worth of gruesome fighting. But still, he looks like the Chris you know...even if everything else has changed.

"Nice mustache," you snort.

He doesn't say anything at first. He's too caught up in taking in every aspect of your being. "It's kinda growing on me," he shrugs.

A painfully long silence sparks. Too much history and too many words waiting to be said on the edge of your tongues.

Chris clears his throat. "I uh— I didn't know you were working on this movie too. You never told me."

Your response comes out muffled as you bite into a brownie. "And when would I have had the chance to do that?"

"Right..." he trails off. "Well congrats, I know you've always wanted to work on a big project like this."

Another awkward silence blooms and Chris can't help but remember a time when nothing was ever tense. For years he had looked forward to the day when both of you were hired for the same film. He got so excited from thinking about seeing you every day, not having to suffice with FaceTime calls and texts until he could return home.

You'd be right there with him the entire time. Exploring whatever city you found yourselves in until it felt like a second home.

But instead, you're on the same set with nothing but animosity and regret.

Finally, you break your silence. "Look. We don't have to pretend to be on good terms. We're here for work and that's it. Whatever baggage we have should remain back home because honestly, I'm sick of carrying it around."

His hand clenches, he has so much to say to you and not enough time to do so. "I—"

A rush of people come crowding towards the table, extras and film-crew members pushing their way through to get in a quick snack before the cameras start rolling again.

His words become stuck. He can't say what he needs to with a slew of people in earshot. "Yea, of course," he sighs.

You grab a few more treats before turning to leave when he touches your arm softly, whispering your name to catch your attention.

His eyes are watery, emotions piling up after seeing your face again. He had envisioned the first time he saw you again and it went nothing like this.

He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"I know Chris."

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You weren't too sure how you ended up in this situation. The Russo Brothers had invited everyone out to eat and of course, you agreed. You thought it would just be the directors, producers, and a few other people on your team headed out for dinner but apparently, the universe had other plans.

"Uhm there's like a million seats at this table." You stare down, chuckling because there were more plates than ten times your group combined.

"Gotta have room for the cast," Anthony shrugs.

Cast?

And that's how you found yourself anxiously waiting for Chris to show up. You took every second to eye the door, preparing yourself to be stuck at a dinner table with him all night.

Slowly time ticks by until nearly all the seats are filled. A sigh of relief escapes your lips but quickly you suck it back in when the sight of Chris in a fitted button-up shirt comes waltzing into the restaurant. Fuck.

He greets everyone, eyes landing on yours and then on the last empty seat beside you. No, no, no.

Hesitantly he walks over to the chair, sliding it out and sitting down before shooting you a remorseful look. "Just business right?"

"Right," you grit, teeth stuck together as you try to hide your conversation from any listening ears.

As the night goes on and the food finally comes to the table, you find yourself staring off into space. Every time Chris speaks you’re sent spiraling. When he laughs you can't help but think “how is he so okay right now?” And every glance he shoots your way has you caving into your seat.

Mistakingly, his leg brushes against yours. He mumbles out a quick apology but you're too stuck in your head to reply. His scent was devouring you. His presence was making your head spin and suddenly your stomach began to churn.

You need space. Now.

The place is far too loud and everyone is too distracted to notice the way you push out of your chair to leave. Not even your bosses spare you a glance as you attempt to tiptoe away from the scene.

Sensing your quick movements Chris turns towards you. "You okay?"

"Just a little warm in here...I'm gonna step out for a bit."

Warily he nods, watching you disappear within the crowded restaurant until his intuition kicks in. "I'll be back," he mutters to nobody in particular.

Dropping his fork he races out of the restaurant, searching for your figure on the crowded sidewalk. "Hey!" He shouts, jogging to the other side of the street to catch up to your fleeting form.

Pausing, you turn around. "Hey," you say sullenly.

He scratches the back of his neck, eyes looking everywhere but you. "I know we're not at our best right now but I was thinking we could go for a walk maybe?"

"Chris..."

"Please," he begs." Another day of acting like everything's fine when it's not is gonna make me go insane."

Hesitantly you accept. "Okay."

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The cool night air was chilly as the two of you walked along the streets of Prague. After visiting one time you had already fallen in love. The nightlife was vibrant and everything made your eyes widen in awe.

Chris couldn't help but steal glances at your awe-stricken expression. Your eyes glazed with adoration as you scanned the architecture that surrounded the beautiful Vltava River, blissfully unaware of the way he's taking in every part of you.

"I always wanted to take you to Europe," Chris begins.

"Yea?"

"Every time I'm here I think about how much you'd love it. Every country I've been to has something beautiful to offer and it's hard to fully enjoy it when all I'm thinking about is being back in Boston."

"With you" he wanted to add.

You knew Chris missed you when he was away, it's why he sent a gazillion postcards of every place he went to. A little message was scribbled on the back of each one with a lopsided smiley face at the end.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," you shoo.

"Are you kidding me? Everywhere I go I'm trying to enjoy it the way you would."

You avoid his gaze, terrified that if you made eye contact your heart would beat out of your chest. "Really?"

"If I'm at an art museum I'm paying extra close attention to the descriptions because I know you'd read every last one. And I always make sure to stop by a bakery and get anything with chocolate since that's your favorite flavor. And let there be a pretty sunset, I pull out my phone and take a photo immediately for our collection.

You and Chris have a shared album filled with photos of skylines. The beach, mountains, even your backyard. Before everything, he planned to print the prettiest ones out and place them in a scrapbook just for you. To the person always willing to chase sunsets.

"I didn't know you did all that," you whisper.

"You make everything better," he beams. "Sure hanging out with my cast mates is always fun but they aren't you. Honestly, It gets lonely after a while."

The chilly night air blows past your body causing a shiver to run down your spine. "You never told me you felt that way."

He grabs your hand gently and leads you to a bench overlooking the river. The water was still, unlike your thoughts which were whirling a mile a minute.

"I haven't told you how I felt about a lot of things actually," he confesses.

Your eyes broaden with panic. "Let's not do this now, please. We still have months left of filming and I don't think I can handle reopening old wounds right now."

Chris watches how your face fills with anxiety. Eyebrows knitted together, lips in a tight frown, even your hands are fumbling together as you thought about the rollercoaster of emotions you've experienced this year alone.

Whatever he had to say now would have to wait. You don't think your heart can take any more breakage.

Your feet tap the ground repetitively, thoughts racing as you feel yourself treading back to old habits. One’s spent walking around your room in circles for hours wondering why the hell you had to ruin a perfectly good thing.

And for the first time up close, he truly saw what he had done to you. You look fearful sitting next to him.

He goes to touch your hand but you quickly pull away.

"This was a mistake," you murmur.

Chris shakes his head vigorously as you stand up from the bench, hands wrapping around your body protectively against the wind. He watches helplessly as you begin to walk away and suddenly everything begins to feel far too final. This isn't how it's supposed to end.

"I was scared!" He shouts.

Your feet come to a halt. Back still faced towards him, he continues. "I was scared of losing you for good."

Slowly you turn around, tears fighting to come loose as you stare at your best friend. The one person who you truly had believed could never hurt you.

"When you told me how you felt every possible ending came tumbling into my head. Do you know how badly I'd been aching to hear those words come from your lips? Thought I was gonna pass out right then and there because finally, I had some confirmation that everything I've ever felt towards you wasn't one-sided."

A few onlookers walk by but you're too engulfed in your world with Chris to care. These raw emotions had been clawing their way out for years and it was finally time to let them loose.

"But every time I allow myself to tempt the idea of being with you an immense fear of losing you washes over me. I've seen so many relationships crumble...and the thought of you leaving my life because I can't fulfill your needs—" He chokes out a sob, eyes fluttering away from yours as he stares at the ground.

"Being your best friend and nothing more guaranteed that I'd never lose you...that I'd never disappoint you."

He takes a step closer until only a few feet distance you from each other.

"You don't think I was scared too? Telling my best friend that I love him was absolutely terrifying. I spent months thinking of how to tell you. It ate me alive but not telling you was killing me more. I'd try to talk myself out, convince myself that I'd just make it all worse but something deep inside of me told me to take a chance."

He searches for your gaze, a strong desire to hold you tight and utter apology after apology as if it'll make everything better.

"And you know what happened? You called us unrealistic," you shout. "You let me think you were in a full-on relationship while I sat at home wondering why the fuck I wasn't good enough to be something more to you."

His breathing halts. You? not being good enough for him? If only you knew how many days he spent telling himself you deserved better than anything he had to offer. But still, he was shameful. You were right. Every last word was true and he couldn't express how much he thought about taking every last mistake back.

"It's not unrealistic," he states.

"What?" Your voice is exasperated.

"I shouldn't have said what I did that day. Rejecting you, leaving without a word, allowing myself to grow weak and fall into a PR stunt without consulting you...all of it combined make up the biggest regret of my life. And if I could go back—"

"No," you sob.

Shaking your head you turn away from him. He doesn't get to do this. Not now, not ever. You had spent months broken and defeated, thousands of tears shed because he had left you in the dust.

"You can't just confess after what you did," you spat.

"I know. Trust me I know. I was scared, you gotta know that. I didn't wanna lose you!" He couldn't tell if his eyes were watering from the wind or his turbulent emotions. But suddenly his cheeks grew wet and eyelashes heavy.

It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. "And now I'm scared," you cry. "I can't just give my heart to you again Chris. Not fully."

Words were slipping from his lips without thought. He was grappling for you to stay, even if it meant arguing until the sun came up, he couldn't let you leave. Because the moment you stopped fighting he knew you were done.

"Is it Henry?"

Your eyebrows furrow with confusion. How the fuck is he still stuck on Henry, especially at this very moment. "Why would this be about Henry?"

He was cursing at himself to shut up but his mouth disregarded every warning.

"Because I saw him! He was sitting on your porch. If you're seeing him just tell me now and I'll back away. I shouldn't have reacted so harshly the first time I found out but—"

Your gaze hardens. "What do you mean you saw him on my porch?"

His mind continues to pump out two single words. Shut up, shut up, shut up!

"I came to say goodbye and that's when I saw him. I know I have no right to—"

"Damn straight!"

He wipes his cheeks, hand now wet from the action. "I just had to see you before I left. Being miles away overseas knowing how we ended would've killed me."

Scoffing, you flail your hands into the air. "But you didn't. You saw Henry and fucking ran because that’s all you ever do."

He had run away the moment you spoke the words "I love you." He ran away after the explosive argument in your living room. He ran away after seeing Henry knowing there was a possibility that he wouldn't see you again for months.

"I wanted to give you space. I didn't think you'd want me intruding into your life after what happened!"

"Space? Oh, C’mon Chris. We both know the real reason why you never made an effort to come and see me— even if we weren't on speaking terms. You said it yourself."

"You're scared," you speak slowly, pronouncing each word carefully.

"Henry being there gave you a way out and you took it and I'm going to assume that's exactly why you took up that PR relationship too. It's easier to run away than truly confront what you did.”

His head was spinning. The cold hard truth is being shouted in his face. He calls out your name desperately, unsure of what to say as he frantically watches you take steps backward.

"All of this talk of fear, regret, and still you can't bring yourself to tell me how you feel. I would've settled for being friends no matter the outcome. But you left me. When will you get it through your head that I just needed you, Chris."

“Always just needed you.”

It was pouring outside. Lightning and thunder continue to strike as you lay nuzzled in Chris's lap fast asleep. It was only a week before you had so mistakenly confessed your feelings. Before everything went to shit and wanting Chris to hold you would always come true.

You were dreaming about him. Mumbling incoherently about being at the beach with him, the waves crashing hard as the two of you ran into the sea.

Chris felt you stir in his lap. His fingers trailed down your back, stopping at your waist before making his way back up. You always claimed his touch "helped you sleep better."

He stares down at you, your lips parted, light snores coming from your body as your breathing labored. "Chris," you mumbled.

"M'right here," he stated.

But you don't respond. You're fast asleep and quickly he realizes that you're not speaking to him. You're speaking of him, dreaming about him.

"Don't swim too far," you mutter. "So many clouds."

He chuckles to himself as your words come to a halt and become replaced by a loud snore.

"Where are you going," you whimper. "It's starting to rain."

Your body shifts in his lap, tossing to the other side and placing your hands underneath your head. "Chris! Where'd you go!"

Panic strikes you. Your words are filled with distress as you dreamt of Chris's body disappearing beneath the waves. The sky was turning dark, more clouds appeared as the rain began to fall harder.

You lose yourself in the waves, your body being tossed around as you screamed for Chris.

"Where are you!" You sob aloud.

Chris's eyebrows furrow with worry. You're shaking. He nudges your body, whispering your name in a panicked tone until your eyes began to flutter open.

"Don't leave me," you murmured.

You woke up with a jolt, your eyes were wet with tears and Chris was staring down at you with a sorrowful look. "I'm never leaving you, sweetheart."

"Promise me?"

"I promise."

He's always loved you. No matter how hard he tried to bury his feelings they've always been there. Deep down he knew your friendship always crossed boundaries but he shoved those thoughts away. Taking risks terrifies him, let alone with the people he loves.

You were right. He does run away.

In every relationship he's ever been in his subconscious can only think about you. You're his priority, and it's why every last one ended in flames, and yet he never pushed himself to pursue you. He was more content with being romantically alone than risking you leaving forever.

But now as he stands before you every desire to worship you, make you his, finally comes floating above the water.

He had tried so hard to resist showing you every physical act of love in the book. After all, he had the emotional part nailed down.

In a sense, he was your protector. Your best friend.

There were moments where his front faltered and he found himself wondering about a life where he gave you all of him, where you were his entirely. As much as he tried to convince himself that friendship was long-term and relationships were guaranteed to cease, there was always a sliver of hope that the two of you could work out.

Now that hope is hanging by a thread and maybe it's time for Chris to finally latch onto it.

He had no control over life's plans and he shouldn't be fearful because of it. There was no amount of apologies he could give that would excuse his actions, yet still, he grew hopeful.

At last, he found it in himself to dig up his desires and lay them out on the table. He loves you. Not just as a best friend but also as a lover, a confidant, a person willing to do any and everything to make you happy.

His voice wavers, but for once he feels confident in his choice of words.

"I don’t want to run anymore.”

You release a shaky breath. “Then don’t.”

Without another thought, he walks forwards. You choke out a sob while he embraces you, tears flowing rapidly from his touch. His hand cradles your head as he rocks the both of you back and forth. Passively he presses soft kisses against your forehead. “I’m so sorry,” he weeps.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Every fucking part of you is engraved into my soul. You’ve always been my life partner and nothing's gonna change that. Nothing you hear me?”

You choke out a small “yes.”

“You’re beautiful, smart, and the only damn person who willingly puts up with me. This entire time I was scared of losing you just to end up letting you slip from my grasp anyways. And I’m never gonna forgive myself for that sweetheart but there’s something I’ve been aching to say that I should’ve said a long time ago.”

Sniffling, you stare up at him. His eyes are bloodshot, months' worth of worry and stress showing itself clearly.

“I love you. And not just as my best friend, but as everything you are and ever will be to me. I love you so damn much that it hurts and I’ll spend every day on my knees begging for your forgiveness regardless of whether or not we end up together.”

You let out a disheartening laugh as he sinks to the ground without a care about who sees.

His hand slips into his shirt, pulling out a little silver chain necklace with a familiar ring in the center. He unclasps the jewelry, letting it pool into his palm to show you.

“I’ve made so many promises over the years and every single one I’ve intended on keeping. Regardless of what you say, I need you to keep this for me. I swore it to you.”

He places the ring into your hand, closing your fingers around the metal forcefully. “I love you.”

You stare down at the cheap arcade ring solemnly. Slowly you slip it onto your ring finger until it can’t go any further. “It’s a little tight.” Your light laughter turns into a sob and Chris can’t help but chuckle too.

The two of you must look idiotic right now.

Grabbing his arm for him to stand up, you hold his gaze before pressing your lips against his. His eyes widen in shock before allowing himself to drown in your affection. Wrapping his arms around you, he moans softly. Your touch has always been euphoric but now more than ever he craves it.

“Say it again,” you whisper.

He presses his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

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About damn time Chris stopped playing. Anyways— one more chapter left!

Taglist: @littlemarvelmenfan @amorisxx @kiki-bridges @aoifex @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa @kissme-hs @pbeckn26 @fallinallinmendes @katiebby04 @smackmyassseb @youngblood199456 @ashpeace888 @ljej95 @rexit-mo @captainchrisstan @sarahdonald87 @bambamwolf87

#chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x woc!reader #chris evans angst #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #best friends to lovers #chris evans fic #friends to lovers #more than friends

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thebangtancloud · 2 years

Note

34, 45 and 49 with Chan, please! I'm in the mood for something fluffy!

Strawberries ~ Bangchan

"How about a kiss?" + "You're joking...right?" + "I've wanted this for so long." from this prompt list :)

Summary: Chan offers to let you repay him for those ridiculously expensive organic strawberries...with a kiss.

"But I never asked you to buy these, Chan!"

"I bought them anyway! What do you want me to do? Throw them in the bin?"

"I don't know, give them to someone...or something?"

Bangchan gave you a pointed look, raising his hands to rest over his hips.

"Take these. That's it. End of discussion!"

"But- they're so expensive!" You pushed the large box back across the floor so that they were closer to him.

"Well, they're not coated with gold. It's just strawberries, organic strawberries. You can take them."

"No," you shook your head stubbornly. "That's like... too much. Even if I could, I wouldn't know how to repay you. God knows, one day you might end up convincing me to let you use my farts as some random sound effects for your music because 'I owe you one'."

"Your- what?!" Bangchan wheezed, laughing incredulously at your logic. "Use your farts?!"

"Bro," you deadpanned. "Just take them back. What will I even do with these?"

"Eat them, obviously," he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Make some smoothies, freeze them, add them as toppings to a cake, eat them with your cereal, get creative, (Y/n)!"

"I don't even bake," you rolled your eyes at him. "Chan, I'm pretty sure I'll get sick if I eat so many strawberries."

"I can share them with you," Bangchan suggested, slowly raising an eyebrow to gauge your reaction. Sensing that you weren't reacting - at all - to his statement, he felt compelled to add something to it.

"And why would you even want to repay me? Who even does that?"

You huffed slightly, looking away with a frown.

"I do."

"I'm not asking you to repay me, in any way, (Y/n)," he assured you, inching closer to pat your back twice.

"They're just strawberries, for God's sake."

"Doesn't matter," you insisted, shaking your head again. "I can't accept gifts this way. I need to give you something back, and I'm not in a position to do that right now."

"Oh lord," Bangchan sighed deeply. "No one's asking you to give me anything back."

"Just let me... follow my life's motto, Chan."

"Take the strawberries."

"I told you-"

"And give me something in return."

You turned to look at him with a surprised raise of your eyebrows. Bangchan held your gaze confidently, something that made you want to look away and hide your face behind that big brown box of ridiculously expensive organic strawberries or something.

Why was he looking at you like that?

"Like what?"

Bangchan sniffed, leaning back against his forearms and looking all the way to the ceiling, testing the waters tentatively.

"How about a kiss?"

It was a blessing that he wasn't looking at you, or else he could easily mistake you for one of those stupid strawberries. You didn't realize you had stopped breathing voluntarily until Bangchan finally looked across at you with a startled expression.

"(Y/n), are you okay? Your head looks like it's about to explode!"

"Huh?"

"Are you even breathing?"

"Me? Yeah, of course, I am. Why wouldn't I be breathing? You want me to die or something?"

"No?" Bangchan looked genuinely concerned, raising a hand to touch your cheek. "You're like...burning up."

"Why would I be burning up?" You brushed his hand away and lightly fanned at your face to help cool yourself down. Maybe if you could stand up without your legs giving way and proceed to yeet yourself off of the window, you wouldn't have to face the possibility of having the same conversation with Bangchan again.

"Isn't it because of what I said?"

You scoffed, or at least tried to, waving wildly and giving him a look as if to say really???

"Why would I even get a fever because of what you asked me?"

"Who even said it was a fever?" He challenged, cocking an eyebrow at you. "Maybe I just made you blush."

"Pfft- yeah no, why would I even blush?"

"Yeah, why would you, (Y/n)?"

You fell short of words. Looking away was so much easier so that was exactly what you did, delicately wiping at the sweat that was forming around your temple. Bangchan seemed amused with a lopsided grin that made you want to literally run for life.

"I'm not blushing."

"So... you're not in a position to repay me with a kiss?"

"I was talking about literal things, Chan. Like money, or some other fruit or table or charger or something!"

"You're funny," he teased you with a smirk. "But a kiss is a literal thing, too."

"You-"

"I'd say it's an excellent deal. No damage. No loss."

"Are you even-" your eyes widened when Bangchan shuffled across the floor and crawled over towards you, "you're joking...right?"

He stopped mere centimeters away from your face, arm holding himself above your slanting figure that was sliding across the floor in an attempt to move away from him.

"Do I look like I am?"

"I mean..." you trailed off, "I don't know."

"Do you want the strawberries?"

Why did he suddenly smell like strawberries? A sweet, fruity scent that made your brain short-circuit for a brief second before you nervously looked at the box that he was referring to.

"Uh..."

"I know you like them. So keep them. And pay me back right now. With a kiss."

"Chan, I-"

"Or I can give them to one of the boys. Maybe Jeongin, maybe Felix."

"What?"

"You don't bake, but Felix does. He can use the strawberries. And a hundred strawberries are just the right about for the eight of us."

"But-"

"We could look up some recipes for strawberry ice cream. Minho can help us. He likes-"

"But you said you'll share them with me!"

Bangchan grew silent, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips that were suddenly too close to your face for you to even think properly. Blinking once, then again, Bangchan chuckled fondly.

"That was if you accept the deal."

"Okay, I will."

His eyebrows shot up at your answer.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"So... you're going to repay me with a kiss?"

"Yes."

He looked pleasantly surprised and only looked away for a split of a second before he nodded.

"Okay. Repay me, then."

Your eyes widened slightly, breath catching in your throat.

"You want me to kiss you?"

"You're supposed to be repaying me for the strawberries, ma'am," Bangchan giggled at the way your eyes were trembling.

"Or do you... not want to?"

"No, I want to," you answered, a little too quickly. "I mean- I don't want to- no, don't get me wrong, I want to, but..."

"(Y/n)," Bangchan laughed softly at the way you were panicking. Taking a final moment to trail his eyes across your face up close, he began to recoil with a little laugh.

"Chill, I'm not trying to make you- umph!"

The force with which you lunged across at him made him fall back onto the floor, hands held out in surprise before they landed on your hips to steady you. It took a moment for Bangchan to realize that it was not just your body that was on top of him, but also your lips.

For a few seconds, he wondered why his eyes remained wide open, but all too soon, he felt you pull away and that was when his right arm that was on your hip slid all the way up until he could hold onto the back of your head and guide you back to his mouth.

With a swift movement, Bangchan had you on your back with his body hovering over yours instead, protectively cushioning your head from the floor with his own hand.

He kissed you tenderly, holding onto you like you were a little teddy bear, unknowingly grazing the skin of your neck with his thumb that pulled a shudder up your spine. Your hand remained on his arm, holding him as though you could collapse under your own weight, trying your best not to break away from him in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

A few moments later, Bangchan pulled away with one last lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, his eyes still remaining closed as he breathed out the nervousness that he had been trying his best to hide from you.

"That was-"

"I've wanted this for so long," you murmured in a single breath. His eyelids fluttered open at the sound of your voice, delicately tracing the outline of your ear.

"You did?"

"You have no idea," you shook your head, letting your eyes close again with a little sigh. "I've just been so scared to even give you a hint."

"You gave me plenty," he smiled at the way you were still holding onto him.

"Really?" You frowned in confusion, barely able to open your eyes when he lowered his head to kiss you again.

"Yeah," he whispered against your lips, letting them leave a trail of tiny kisses across your cheeks as his mouth made its way to your ear.

"That's why I bought you strawberries. You always remind me of one when you blush."

A/n: I'm so glad the first request was for Chan!! I really wanted my first skz piece to be about him first hehehe I hope you liked it!

Request 1/30 :) Go ahead and request soon before all the spots are taken!

Permanent Taglist: @hopestastic , @joondiary , @0xnna0 , @cuteipat , @koalasandcuddles , @bangrauhl13 , @blissedjoon , @underratedbitch-number13 , @tinyoonsblog , @itachi-chi @sparkyprotectionsquad @scuzmunkie @uno7

#bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #bang chan drabbles #chan fluff #chan imagines #chan drabbles #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids bang chan

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dribs-and-drabbles · 1 year

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I'm not able to write anything coherent right now but that was perhaps the best ep of the series. It was just gorgeous...in a rip-your-heart-out-and-wring-it-dry kind of way.

I loved so much about it. Li Ming's mum and how they're both so different from their characters in My School President. A+ acting. Li Ming's tired but defiant "so what?". The siblings and how Jam is almost like a child herself still. UNCLE FU*KING TONG. Please, I'm wheezing! The conversation between Leng and Li Ming, how positive Leng is about everything that should be terrifyingly crushing, and Li Ming refusing the cigarette. THE WHOLE CONVERSATION BETWEEN JIM AND WEN IN THE CONDO. (Sometimes these 'flexing for equality' dialogues can feel forced but this one was so great.) So casual. So real. God, Mix just hits the right tone. The sniff-kiss was fantastic but I think I'll about lose my mind when Jim tells Wen to call him phi or Jim rather than lung/uncle. The whole Ar/Lung and subsequent teasing between Leng and Gaipa (and yes I had to pause the video to check how far apart the years of the horse and monkey are). But the heartache. The heartache for Mrs Hong's death. My god Khaotung knocked it out the park this ep. (I tell you, this was not an easy ep to watch after having been to my uncle's funeral yesterday, so thank you Aof for that.) Crying. AND THEN HEART'S PARENTS SIGNING WITH HEART. I couldn't see for the tears. And I'm sorry but there's a special place in hell for people like Beam's father/parents and they can BURN in it. And then Li Ming and Jim talking bonding in front of the diner, and Li Ming lost for words (Fourth does this so well). I didn't even care that there was singing (of course there was singing, is this not a Thai ql?!) because Khaotung Khaotunged his way through it and made me cry again (at this point I hadn't really stopped though).

And then in the end it was all about endings and new beginnings for all the characters - Jam with the prospect of her new marriage; Alan forging a new life for himself at home without Wen there; Heart reconnecting with his parents (and them with him); Leng literally bringing a new life into the world soon; Jim deciding to give up his diner; Wen finally cutting ties with Alan and hoping he can start a new relationship with Jim; Li Ming choosing to not go and live with his mum (and eventually to go to America); and Giapa being forced to say goodbye to his mother.

@shortpplfedup wrote something about how the sudden death of someone puts things into perspective for people. Whilst that is true (I had a sleepless night last night grappling with Thoughts brought up by my uncle's sudden death), I would say that for these characters all these things were inevitable anyway. They were all going to happen because they had already been on those paths - the funeral maybe just gave them a bit of a push. But that's perhaps what nini meant.

Anyway, 10/10. I can't wait to see the glorious new beginnings that await them (and us) in tomorrow's ep.

#moonlight chicken #I had way more to say than I thought I would #once I start I can't stop...much like that savoury snack #but it's way past my bedtime so I shall stop now #this was just a fantastic ep #I cried. a lot #I thought about my dear petty who was so hopeful that mrs hong wouldn't die #but one look at khaotung's face when he exited the hospital room told me she had #I was gone when he said she was gone #anyway...#wasn't I supposed to be going to bed...

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sunlaire · 3 months

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Tagged by @clandestinegardenias

The rules: take your 3 most recently liked songs on Spotify (or the first 3 that pop up on shuffle, whichever you want) and you have to 1) choose a line from each song to be a fic title and 2) tell me the genre of fic it would be and any other fic description you feel inspired to include.

Take What You Take by Lily Allen, and I would absolutely use the line "Feel what you feel as long as it's real"

Deeply emotional fitzier fic of James coming to terms with who he is outside of how others see him. They survive and make it back to England, and there's a scene when James is invited to attend a dinner (they don't invite Francis) and he's getting dressed up, looking in the mirror as he'd done a thousand times, already imaging how he'll turn his recovery into a story. He's saying the words to himself, practicing his laugh at the right parts while he tries to tie his stock. strugling a bit with getting it to lay right, he's tied and untied it three times now, he happens to look up and catch sight of himself. he stops. The clatter of dishes and loud crowds that had filled his head just a moment ago are fading away and it's just him in the mirror. And he realizes he doesn't want to go. In fact, the story he was just conjuring seemed so thin and false. He hasn't laughed out there. he hadn't pulled himself up, attributing his strength to the notion of some queen far away. It has been Francis who saw him to safety and never let him give up. So he finishes getting dressed and shows up at Francis' place unexpectedly. It goes without saying, they smash hard🔥🔥🔥

Clean Slated State by The Altogether, and wow this song has so many lines that would be perfect ah but I'll use "Build a quilt from all who have loved me"

Rossier fic. It opens with a letter written and sent and returned. Angst angst angst. I think it would bounce POV between Francis and JCR. There are some near encounters but they miss each other. The netsilik group Francis lives with packed up and travelled just before James got there, that kind of thing. And it's a story of Francis' declining health and James' fierce love for his 'friend'. Of course they finally meet up in the end , and with him James brought letters and pictures of people who love Francis and it's just angst city

Above the Clouds of Pompeii by Bear's Den and oooh I'm using "The flowers slipping from your hand"

Fitzier hanahaki fic time >:) with franics being the one hacking up flowers. He's SO annoyed. It starts long before he's ready to even broach the subject of falling in love again. Of course. Twice rejected and so far removed from the world as they are, it's ridiculous. And yet. Blanky has to shake sense into him, he says "you're either going to see to this thing or you'll die. And you're not dying." And when he says it, it ruffles franics. But dammit, he's right of course. He's being unreasonable continuing on like this, bearly able to breath at night. "Well, what if I don't want to be this man. Rejected and-" he gestures vaguely with a swing of his arm, words leaving him in his anger. "and pathetic in my feelings. Unwelcomed and unwanted as well. What if I can't stomach it." He confesses. The anger fizzles out and he scowls, feeling raw. Oh I'm so simple when it comes to hanahaki fics fr fr but yeah he admits that he needs to take care of this. So he gets bundled up to make the walk across the ice in the polar night. And he's wheezing and sounds like death. After a solid 2 months of avoiding him, James is shocked to see Francis nearly collapsing in his doorway. He shoots up from his seat alarmed and Francis jabs a finger in his direction, bearly able to talk, he gets out "now you sit back down. I mean to have words with you." For the first half of the conversation James doesn't know if he's being insulted or complimented for every nice thing Francis says, it is with a tone of utter frustration lol

Okay tagging @paellegere @apocalypticdemon and @jurassic-cunt

#jfkskjdkejf why are these all so angsty lol #dammit i told myself i would keep this short and tidy #but ahhh these were so fun to write #i got carried away major #thabk you for tagging me 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

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chronicallyuniconic · 6 months

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Do doctors exist simply to torment? What the fuck just happened😖

I cannot believe the fucking telephone appointment I've just had. It was setup a couple of weeks ago under "medication review" but didn't specify what medication they'd be reviewing. A simple medication review. I've done it 1000 times, usually with a pharmacist.

This time, a doctor/pharmacist/receptionist I don't know, I've never heard or seen before calls (even tho it's from the surgery number), "I'm ringing about your med review" I ask him to clarify which ones as I wasn't told. One of them is my migraine tablet(M), the other my asthma inhaler(A).

"How long have you been on M?" "You can't be on M anymore as they (are known to) impact your asthma" I explained I'd been on them for a long while and have not had any asthma problems because of them. I explained what does flare my asthma. Then he says "well if M are causing wheezing..." No I said, they don't cause wheezing, I've had no problems despite you saying they impact my asthma." He responds with, "How do you know its asthma, what if you DON'T have asthma?" is this guy taking the piss? I look at my phone to make sure I am actually speaking to the fucking surgery I'm registered with.

Like... I get inhalers every month, before covid I go to asthma clinic every year (because you have to), I had to have my tonsils removed as a child because they stopped me breathing & tonsilitis always made asthma flare. It's been there since childhood (thanks for the prenatal cigarettes mam). And all of a sudden my old ass is having to explain to what is basically a stranger on my phone, about my own asthma. This guy is sat there with my medical notes for fucks sake. I say to him "sorry are you actually questioning whether or not I have asthma something I've had my whole life?"

He goes back to his original point. "you can't have M anymore because of asthma" so I ask how to manage migraines without M. He offers another medication i can't take because they make you sleepy, and I already take meds that do that. If he'd looked...."oh they make you sleepy do they," talking to himself" well yes you would be quite zonked out so let's not do that one then"

He offers another medication used for "blood pressure." High, low? Who fucking knows? I told him about my BP problems for him to say "well let's see how you get on with it or give us a ring back" not even caring or failing to understand the frequency and severity of which I faint. Again, read my notes.

I'm waiting for a Neurology appointment I explain, as I have been having frequent seizures. "and what have they said about migraines?" IM WAITING FOR THE APPOINTMENT ASSHOLE. "oh yes, I see that here now, seizures, yes."

He goes back to asthma. I am just dying to get off the phone, I want this conversation to end. I am beyond livid. Multiple times he actually questioned diagnoses that are on his damn screen or didn't even bother to look at. He's prescribed something I didn't even hear the name of because I wanted to launch my phone, that I can "pick up" from reception. My guy, I am bed/housebound. Again, if he only read the notes.

Now I have to wait to see what this is, understand why and if what he was going on about with the M is correct. It feels weird to be suddenly told nah ya can't really be on this now, unless some rules have changed overnight and they're having to cover their tracks.

This guys behaviour and words caused all sorts of medical trauma to surface, that constant battle of not being believed, being second guessed, and this time it's about fucking asthma, you know my INABILITY to breathe. I must somehow be imagining it and not really need an inhaler eh?

The best bit, the cherry on top, the icing on the cake, the bit that lessened my anger and brought me back to the sick joke the world is playing was "we would like to see you about your asthma and inhalers but due to STAFF SICKNESS, it will have to be in the New Year."

They forget that I have chronic fatigue and chronic pain, I'm just left to deal with this shit. Most of the time, I can't because I'm unable. So fed up. I just want to be believed. Heard. Does anyone do their job properly anymore? Do any doctors exist that want to help a patient or is it just fiction for the television?

Exhausted after all this.

#chronic life #chronic pain #chronic illness #chronically ill #chronic fatigue #tw doctors #spoonie problems #chronic migraine #asthma #It ain't easy being wheezy #medical trauma #sick of it

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gryfferin-gaybies · 9 months

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Addicted to You

Here's an excerpt from my current WIP.

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of substance abuse/addiction and rehab and relapse (never specifies what substance, no graphic details)

"Where is he?" Harry shoved through the doors of St. Mungo's. His bellowing voice demanded the attention of everyone in the room—much like his presence always seemed to.

Ron was at his side in an instant, Hermione behind him. "Mate, calm down. Let's just take a moment and—"

Harry whipped his gaze around to glare at his childhood best friend with enough warning to silence him. Harry's hands were shaking in tight clenched fists at both his sides. The magic radiated off of him and was nearly palpable to those who stood close enough.

Harry cleared his throat and stomped up to the witch at the desk. "Where is he?"

Her eyes were wide with both shock and fear—few people could be at the receiving end of Harry Potter's anger without pissing themselves. "I-I'm sorry. Who ar—"

Harry slammed his fist down on the desk, causing both Ron and the witch to flinch and Hermione to scold him. "Draco Lucius Malfoy. Who the fuck do you think?"

It had been all over headlines when they decided to go public with their relationship. It wasn't surprising that everyone had an opinion or a question that they felt London's wizarding population needed to hear. 'What are the specifics of Harry Potter's sexuality?' and 'The only explanation is that the Malfoy heir has our Savior under a curse or love potion.' and even 'Is this a publicity stunt gone wrong?' All of the questions and accusations had infuriated Harry by insulting Draco. But after a couple months the conversation seemed to die down and they were only ever talked about on special occasion. Like when they moved in together, their anniversary, when Harry got promoted to Head Auror, on their birthdays, etc.

Of course the breakup had been in every headline. Draco and Harry broke up in an argument at a club where Draco stormed out and Harry stayed. Harry was seen taking someone else home and Draco was seen leaving someone else's house the next morning, walk-of-shame style. Harry winced at the images of himself yelling at Draco that they were over and even harder at the images of Draco's morning-after.

Reporters for The Prophet, The Wizard's Voice, and other publications were camped outside of Harry's house and work and even the bar where he and some work friends frequented. Ginny Weasley was harassed by reporters as well, since she'd been caught trying to sneak out of Harry's place a couple times.

Harry watched but there was no more news of Draco in the days following the breakup. All he knew was that Draco was staying at Malfoy Manor and ignoring Harry's calls, texts, emails and even owls.

Until today, when Ron and Hermione burst through Harry's Floo with urgent news: Draco had been found by his mother unconscious in his childhood bed, trembling, wheezing, and covered in sweat. Having witnessed Draco succumb to his addiction—and later helped him get clean— in the past, Harry knew exactly what had happened. Draco had relapsed.

Now, Harry was at St. Mungo's, demanding to see his (recently-turned-ex) boyfriend.

"Healers are recommending only close relatives at this time. He's not in great condition and they don't want to stress him further." The witch's eyes were still wide with nervousness at Harry's outburst. She stuttered, "Unfortunately, I - I can't—"

Harry growled, tearing his hands through his hair and taking a step back. When he turned back to the desk, his voice was lowered and eerily calm. He leaned forward with his palms on the desk so that only the woman he was speaking to and his friends at his side could hear him. "I'm going to ask you one more time before I storm this hospital until I find him. If I have to tear this place apart, I won't hesitate. I don't give a fuck about anyone in here except him. So maybe you should tell me where he is, before I start raising hell to find him." Harry's threats worked—Ron and Hermione fell back to apologize.

As soon as Harry laid eyes on Draco sleeping in the hospital bed, his heart began to race with all of the fears he had been ignoring until now. He pulled a chair up to the bed and grabbed Draco's limp hand in both of his own.

Harry wasn't sure how long he sat there in still silence before Draco's hand twitched. Harry blinked, wide-eyed, at the hand and waited to see if he'd imagined it.

"Harry?" Draco rasped. His voice was raw and gravelly. For a moment he looked almost hopeful, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. "What are you doing here?" He pulled his hand out of Harry's.

Harry blinked, his mouth trying to form words but he had none. He hadn't thought about the possibility of Draco still being angry and not wanting to see him. He hadn't thought about anything at all other than getting to Draco and making sure he was ok. "I - Draco . . . how are you feeling?"

Draco looked away from Harry's face. "If my mother sent for you, I'm terribly sorry she bothered you. I don't need you here." Draco's harsh words stung like he'd just hit Harry across the face.

Harry sputtered again, still unsure of what to say. "What? No - she didn't - I mean -" Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then tried again. "I heard what happened and I came immediately. No one told me to be here."

Draco still didn't look at him. "Well, no one asked you to. You don't have to waste your time here." He was being cold but Harry saw through his defensive walls and heard what he was truly saying.

"Being here for you is not a waste of my time. You are never a waste of my time." Draco didn't say anything. Harry sighed. "Do you want me to leave?"

Worry flashed across Draco's features and in his eyes as he chanced a quick glance in Harry's direction. He chewed his bottom lip. "I'll be fine. I can handle this without you."

Harry heard the doubt in his voice as well as noticed how he avoided directly answering the question. "I know you can—" Draco seemed surprised by this answer. "—but you don't have to."

Harry had watched Draco almost kill himself in the past and he wouldn't let that happen again. After months of using, Harry was the one who convinced Draco to go to his rehab program and then helped him stick with it. Harry was the one who got rid of all of the temptations and substances in his house so that he didn't have to touch them again. Harry was the one who helped him through the horrible withdrawals and distracted him when he wanted to use. Harry was the one who helped Draco figure out which positive coping skills worked for him in place of all the bad ones. Harry was there for him then and had continued to be there for him every single time things got rough and Draco nearly relapsed—and the one time early in their relationship when he did relapse and had to get clean all over again.

Draco's blue-gray eyes finally met Harry's, pulling Harry from his abstraction. They were soft and sad for a moment but then they were hard and angry as he remembered to shut Harry out. "Shouldn't you be with Ginny or someone you've just met at a pub?" His tone was dripping in condescension.

"Me? What about the bloke you went home with? You couldn't even wait a few hours after we broke up before finding someone else!" Harry hadn't been able to shake the pain he felt staring at the image in the paper of Draco leaving another man's house the next morning.

"You weren't alone that night either! You took someone back to our house! Tell me, Harry, did you shag her in the same bed where you slept with me?" Now they were both shouting at each other, the same way they had been the night they broke up.

"You wore my shirt to another man's house so I'd say we're pretty square! Be honest, Draco, when you fucked him, did you keep it on so you could smell me the whole time or did you toss it aside along with your feelings for me?" He noticed then that Draco was still wearing the shirt.

"He was a dealer!" Silence replaced their bickering as they both let Draco's words sink in.

Harry was still trying not to think about how much his own words hurt him to say. He also tried to internally deny how much the question had truly been plaguing him the past few days. When he finally processed Draco's words, his mouth parted in shock.

Draco's eyes lost all of their anger and filled with hurt and shame instead. His mournful stare as he searched Harry's face for a reaction nearly knocked the wind out of the other man.

Harry could barely manage more than a whisper now, despite having just been shouting. "Wh - what? He. . . What?" Harry had threatened all of the wizards and witches involved in selling to or using with Draco. He thought that everyone within a 100km radius knew better than to go anywhere near Draco. Regret filled Harry's chest and lungs until he felt like he was going to drown in it. This was his fault, he thought. Draco relapsed because of him.

Harry tried to tell himself that Draco's choices were simply that: Draco's choices. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't his fault Draco didn't use his coping skills. He tried to remind himself of the things the therapist had told him about internalizing blame because he wasn't sure how he could live with the guilt of causing Draco to relapse.

"I wasn't there for sex," was all Draco could think to say.

"You weren't?" Harry wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. Finding out Draco slept with someone else hurt but it was better than knowing Draco was driven back to using. He tried to shake the thought and the guilt from his head but wasn't very successful.

"Of course not, you git!" Draco rolled his eyes at the notion as if Harry were an idiot for assuming so, despite the entire media assuming along with him. "Unlike you, I can't move on from us that fast." It was supposed to be accusatory but it came out pretty pitiful.

Harry was ashamed of himself for assuming Draco had shagged someone else and for bringing someone home with him that night. Even if nothing had actually happened. "I didn't sleep with her either."

Draco scoffed. "Oh bugger off! She was all over you and you, her!"

"No really, it's true. I mean, sure, that's why I brought her home. I wanted to get back at you for leaving more than anything but. . ." He wiped a hand over his face to avoid seeing Draco's reaction as he admitted to the embarrassing events of that night. "When she and I got back to our place, I broke down in tears and went on about our fight to her. She came inside just to leave through the Floo. I spent the remainder of my night crying into the rest of our fire whiskey and some of the gin." Harry felt pathetic as he looked back up to meet Draco's eyes.

Instead of making fun of Harry, Draco looked relieved but still semi-skeptical. "You didn't sleep with her? At all?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I didn't even properly kiss her."

"And Ginevra?"

Harry chuckled softly in disbelief but there wasn't any humor in it. "Of course not! You know there's nothing like that between me and Ginny. We're just friends."

Draco nodded silently and awkwardly avoided Harry's stare, not ready to let Harry back in just yet. Though it was clear—despite Draco's attempt to hide it and Harry's swarm of other emotions— that both of them felt at least slightly relieved at hearing neither of them had been with anyone else.

"Draco. . ." Harry tried but failed to catch his eye. "Draco, please, listen to me."

Draco tilted his head in Harry's direction but kept his eyes cast down.

If this was the best Harry could get, he would take it. "I didn't want to be with her or Ginny. I wanted to make you upset. I wanted to prove that I was ok with you walking out, leaving me at the bar while you went who knows where." He paused in hopes of a reaction or response or indication that Draco was listening but got none. He continued anyway. "But it didn't work. I upset you but it didn't make me feel better. I didn't prove to myself or to you or even to that woman that I was ok without you. Because I wasn't. And I'm not. And I don't want to be. I just want to be with you. I only ever want to be with you."

Draco's eyes finally met Harry's and they were soft and warm and filled with love. In one swift motion, he turned his body so that he was sitting up, facing Harry from the hospital bed and made a whining noise in the back of his throat as he reached out to grab Harry by the collar to wrench him forward so their lips met.

Shocked, Harry froze, but the moment they collided he felt more at home than he had since Draco walked out of that club, since the words that ended their relationship left his own lips. He fell deep into the kiss, taking his time. His hands went to cup Draco's cheeks, cradling his face gently as if Draco might break like porcelain in his palms. Draco's hands left Harry's collar to tangle in his unkempt hair, wrapping individual curls around his index finger. They both poured apologies into the kiss, allowing their mouths to speak their "I'm sorry"s without any words.

However, the kiss was cut far too short, in Harry's opinion, by Draco's hands leaving Harry's hair and pushing him away with open palms against Harry's chest. Draco turned his head sharply so Harry's gaze was met with his temple instead of his eyes. Despite his efforts to hide it, Harry realized there were tears running down Draco's face.

"I - I'm sorry," Draco sobbed. His shoulders curled in on his thin frame as if he were shielding himself away from Harry. Quickly he swiped at the tears on his cheeks and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

Confused, Harry reached to pull Draco's hands from his face so they could talk but Draco jerked away from Harry's hands in the hospital bed, continuing to apologize. Harry let his hands fall, not wanting to push Draco or upset him further. "Draco. . . Draco, what— why are you apologizing? What's going on, Dray? Don't just shut down on me. Talk to me."

Draco continued apologizing and crying instead of answering any of Harry's questions. His anxiety was closing in on him, clouding his mind so much that he couldn't breathe, couldn't form coherent thoughts. Harry knew that these were the times he wanted to use the most, to rely on the substances to clear his mind of all the negative and positive thoughts so he could only focus on his temporary escape. Now was when he needed those positive coping strategies the most.

"Hey," Harry soothed. "Hey, I need you to take a deep breath with me." He took a deep breath, exaggerating the movement with his chest and arms. Then he released it slowly. He did this again and again until Draco followed suit. Then he added the numbers and together they counted out measured breaths until Harry thought Draco seemed well enough to talk. "Better?"

Draco nodded. "I'm sorry. I just—" He shook his head as if shaking away his train of thought. "I don't think this is a good idea."

Harry frowned. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"Us!" Draco motioned between the two of them, getting worked up again already. "I don't think we're a good idea! In fact, I think we're a terrible one. Let's face it: you're only back because I'm here. You feel guilty for my relapse. You always do. And so you'll always be here after I make a mistake, because you feel you're responsible for it. If I hadn't landed myself in this hospital, you never would've come back for me." He was crying again, barely getting words out between his sobs. "You wanted to leave me." He wrapped his arms around his chest in an attempt to comfort himself, to hold himself together.

Harry felt his own tears begin to form as he listened to Draco. "No," he spoke gently. "Draco, that's not true. I—"

"Yes it is! You said the words. You said you were 'so utterly done' with me. You broke up with me. Not the other way around. I left because you wanted me to. And you didn't come after me until you got the news that I had relapsed."

"Draco, we fight all the time. We always work it out. You've never just left before. I was waiting for you to come back, to come home, back to me. You've never actually left before."

"And you've never actually broken up with me before! I wasn't going to come after you when you told me you didn't want me. And the only reason you do now is bec—"

"Draco, I'm not back to fucking save you!" Harry was so fed up with Draco telling him what his own motivations were. He didn't give him the chance to repeat it. "Not from the heartbreak, not from your addiction, not from yourself. I'm not here to save you."

"Then why the fuck are you here?" Draco's tone was full of disbelief.

Harry didn't think about the words before he said them, knowing if he did he would feel guilty for them. "I'm here to save me for once! I'm here to be selfish. I'm here because I fucking want to be. I'm here because I won't survive losing you and also won't take no for an answer so when you're discharged from this hospital, you're coming home. With me." When Draco gave Harry a shocked expression at his abrasiveness, Harry felt the need to elaborate. "I've spent my whole damn life saving other people. You've said yourself on multiple occasions that I have a savior complex. Everyone's needs come before mine. Well not this time. I'm putting my needs first this time and what I need is you, Draco." He grabbed both of Draco's hands and softened his tone. "If you're worried about your sobriety being dependent upon me, then you don't have to come straight back to our place once you're discharged. You can go back to your mother's, get clean again, and then come home. You could even come home and I can stay out of your recovery process so that you handle it on your own. Whatever you need, I will be supportive. But whatever you decide, I want you to come home to me—to us—when you're ready."

Draco hesitated, shaking his head, unsure. But in his eyes Harry saw everything he needed to know. Draco wanted to be with him as badly as he wanted to be with Draco. "I - I don't . . . " His voice was weak so he set his jaw and tried again. Stronger this time, he said, "Promise you won't break up with me when you're angry again. That you'll stick it out, fight it out with me. Then if you still want to break up with me after, you'll wait until you can do it with a clear head. Promise."

Harry smiled so wide he was sure his very back molars were visible. "I promise. Though I won't be breaking things off with you ever again so it's really no concern anyway." This earned him a pointed look. "But I promise. I promise."

Draco scoot over in the small bed to make room for Harry. But Harry declined. "Actually I've got somewhere to be." He placed a quick kiss on Draco's forehead and then his lips.

Draco slouched in disappointment. "Where are you going? You're just going to leave me alone?"

"Of course not. Ron and Hermione are waiting out in the hall. I'll send them in." He was already walking to the door as he spoke, a man on a mission.

In the hall, he found Ron and Hermione as expected and Pansy sitting beside them. He said his hellos and his goodbyes to them all. He gave them no hints as to where he was going, just that he needed to get there quickly.

___

Harry returned that evening to stay with Draco. Multiple healers discussed what their recommended next course of action would be. They said that Draco needed to be supervised for the next few days and that contact with the person who sold to him likely needed to be cut out completely.

But Harry wasn't worried about that. He was certain that Draco— or anyone else for that matter— would never hear from that jackass again.

#harry potter #draco x harry #drarry fanfic #drarry #excerpts #addiction #addict Draco Malfoy #recovery #draco malfoy #current wip

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bougiebutchbitch · 2 years

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PASM story question: we obviously get the supreme moment of Kakashi realizing his crush in chp 2, when did Gai figure out his crush?

Oooooh, good question! I think the roots have been there for a very long time - I very much interpret Gai as seeing Kakashi as his childhood sweetheart! But at what point did Gai realise just what he was feeling?

I think it was the first time he won against Kakashi. The first time he truly believed that he would one day stand beside him as an equal.

Gai always promised that he would be a great ninja. He works towards that end goal, every single day. And he does believe it! He does! It's just - Kakashi's so far ahead. Everyone says there's no point trying.

Yet here they are in Training Ground 3, where they've spent every afternoon this week.

Gai: panting, fists clenched, sweat clumping his fringe.

Kakashi: on his back in the dirt, looking a little offended about it.

They were working with Taijutsu only, on Kakashi's insistence. Gai knows this isn't a real victory. Kakashi is just being kind, by giving him a chance. But even with that handicap, Gai has lost every single time before.

Not today, though.

Kakashi recovers quickly. He hops up to his feet, squaring up, eyes narrow and cold.

"Again," he says.

Gai has won before, but only in non-combat challenges. Who can eat the most dango. Who can write mission reports fastest. Jan Ken Pon. Kakashi usually just shrugs like he couldn't care less and walks away. This time, it seems he wants a rematch.

This is new, this is special. Gai nods, his grin bright as the splash of blood on his bust lip.

"Yosh! I will give you a chance to even the score!"

Sure enough, Kakashi evens it, with interest. Gai peels himself out of the tree he was kicked into, wheezing hard. Pain throbs out from the impact point, where the sole of Kakashi's sandal met his sternum with as much force as the average chidori.

Gai loves it. His grin is brighter and bloodier than ever.

He raises his fists, and his eyebrows. "Again?"

Kakashi sighs, hands in his pockets - that's his rival; always the epitome of cool! "You don't know when to quit, do you."

"Indeed, never giving up is my Nindo! And - look, I beat you, once! I'm improving."

"Lucky fluke," says Kakashi.

That stings. Gai lets it. Swallows it down, squashes that snide jab down into his belly, along with all the rest. Subjects it to immense heat and pressure until it turns to diamond.

"Ha! You wish, rival! Let me prove otherwise!"

Kakashi blinks at him, and though his eyes are still lazy half-moons, Gai gets the sense he's being studied with as much intensity as Kakashi usually gives those awful books he carries around. "Sure," he says. "Whatever."

It's a draw. Almost. Gai holds out as long as he can, but when his vision goes grainy and gray at the edges, he slaps three times at the arm locked around his throat. Kakashi lets up immediately - to which Gai ceases his attempt to reverse the wrestling hold, and flops out starfished on the ground.

"You win," he croaks, and he can't quite keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Good match, rival."

There's silence for a few seconds. Kakashi moves back, just far enough to put an inch of space between them, but not so far that Gai can't hear the faint rasps of his breath. Elevated. That's something. At least he's improved enough that he makes Kakashi work up a sweat.

Gai expects him to leave without another word. Yet he lingers, his shadow falling over Gai, his face unreadable in a way Gai can't blame on that ever-present mask. Gai eases gingerly to sit.

"I guess you were right," he offers, as Kakashi seems disinclined to conversation. "It was just lucky fluke this time - "

"No."

"But I will make it my mission to ensure that the next time I defeat you in battle, it is on the merit of my own skill, and - " Gai's mouth catches up with his brain. "Um. No?"

"No," Kakashi repeats. Now he pushes to stand, glaring out away from Gai. Speaking less to him, more to the cliffs of Konoha that eclipse the distant, wooded horizion. "It wasn't a fluke. You're better than you used to be."

Anyone else, Gai might presume they were lying to spare his pride. But Kakashi doesn't do that. Which means...

"You mean that? Rival?"

Kakashi turns his back on him fully. "Well, you couldn't exactly get worse."

Gai laughs. He's not wrong.

He still thinks of that day often - one of their earliest encounters, when Kakashi saved him from the chuunin who'd been punching him because they were scared, for all their cruel words, to punch his father. When Gai hadn't bothered to fight back.

He fights back now. Every day of his life. It's his Nindo, his drive, his determination - but here, looking up at Kakashi, silhouetted against the evening sun, he realises just how much his rival has helped to forge that Will of Fire in his chest.

Kakashi makes him better. He makes him want to be stronger, faster, more. Gai can't imagine life without him. Even as their classmates fell around them in the war, even when Kakashi lost everything - then lost it again, then again, then again - Gai couldn't comprehend the thought that Kakashi might one day be gone, too.

He wants to do this forever. He wants to be by Kakashi's side for forever. He's been saying as much since they were children.

But now, for the very first time, he looks at Kakashi's tense back and thinks about how much he'd like to run his hand down it, rather than driving his fist into his kidneys. What must it be like, to feel that tightness melt away? To feel all of Kakashi, hard and cold as his kunai, soften under his hands?

And - oh. Is this what papa told him about?

When you find your special people, you will know. You will know that you will do anything to protect them. They will make you stronger, because of your love.

Right now, Gai feels stronger than ever.

"I'll improve," he tells Kakashi, striving to sound mature and sincere, rather than giddy as the bubbles gathering inside his chest. Kakashi dislikes any overt displays of affection; Gai can't do as his heart demands, and shout from the rooftops of Konoha that for the first time in his life, he's in love. He'll save all revelations on that topic for tonight, when he visits his father's grave. To Kakashi, he just says - "I promise. You're my eternal rival, after all."

Kakashi gives him the tiniest grunt of affirmation and body-flickers away. Leaving Gai to flop back dreamily on the pulverised dirt of Training Ground 3, dry blood crusting his nostrils, and sigh.

This is a flash fic & entirely unedited, etc. dsfklghsdghskjdg

Plz excuse any errors T^T

#kakagai #gaikaka #my fic #bbb creates

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