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onmysluttyknees · 15 days

Text

Stockholm's Syndrome

Chapter 4

Pairing: Dave York x female reader.

Rating: E 18+ (minors dni). This is for mature audience only! By continuing reading you agree that you are over 18.

⚠️⚠️⚠️Warning! This is a fic about Dave York. Dave York comes with his own warning so do not say I didn't warn you. ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Words: about 2K

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Masterlist ✨

Dave had texted you the night of your birthday party, as he said he would. And over the last few days, you had texted each other every now and then. Mostly him asking what you were doing, though you were sure he somehow knew exactly what you were up to, almost at all hours of the day. Or you asked how his day was going and or if he wanted to stop by later that night. Most nights, he would stop by, either for a quick fuck but sometimes he would fuck you slowly and for hours. Learning what made you moan and what made you scream out his name louder than you had before. And he loved to make you scream; it seemed to only spur him on and fuck you harder and faster, or slower and deeper. Not that you were complaining. He always left you satiated and tired. But he did always leave. He never stayed the night. And you were too chicken shit to ask him to. Because hearing him say no would probably hurt more than him leaving after he had fucked you senseless.

Yet again, it had been a few days since you had seen Dave; he had said he would be going away for a few days, but that didn't stop you from missing him. You missed him more than you should have. You had tried not to fall for him; you really had. But it had been futile to resist. He consumed your every waking hour. You found yourself daydreaming about him on numerous occasions.

Even as you were walking down the aisles of the grocery store, you thought about what it would be like to be walking next to him, picking out items to put in the basket for you to go home together and cook a meal before devouring each other afterwards. Against your better judgment, you pulled out your phone and sent him a quick text. It couldn’t hurt now, could it?

When will you be back?

A low buzzing sound sounded out from an aisle or two behind you. And for a split second, you hoped he was there at the store, but you shook your head as if to clear that silly thought out of your mind. He wasn't here; why would he be here? Your phone pinged, and you scrambled to open the text message, hoping it was from Dave.

Sooner than you think. Be patient.

A big smile spread across your lips as you read the text over and over. Your only thought was, how soon was soon? But you refrained from sending another text asking just that question and put the phone back in your purse as you walked into the next aisle.

Stopping in front of the shampoo section, you couldn't reach the higher shelf where your favorite shampoo was. It never failed to surprise you why they insisted on putting it so goddamn high up! It wasn’t like you were abnormally short. You were 5 feet, 3 inches. That wasn’t short. But they insisted on stocking some of your most parched items on the highest shelves. And it never ceased to annoy the living hell out of you. You were just about to give up or maybe even climb the shelf when you felt a presence behind you, but you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You already knew exactly who was standing behind you. He moved closer until he was flushed up against your back, his cologne wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, and you leaned back onto him as his hands snaked their way around your waist. His hard cock pressed against your ass. And a smile spread across your lips just at the thought of him getting hard at the sight of your back. Sure, the short sundress you had on probably helped—probably not a dress to be going shopping in at this time of the day—but it had been another excruciatingly hot day, and even wearing only this, sweat still coated your skin. The only slight reprieve from the heat was being in the AC-controlled store.

“Did you miss me?” He asked, his voice low, and his breath fanned over my neck and left side of my face as he leaned in and planted a soft kiss just below my ear. He groaned in your ear and pushed himself harder into you. Letting you feel his hard cock pressing into you. A soft moan slipped from your lips.

“Yes,” you said, already breathless and your breathing becoming labored. Just having him close to you again, you sighed a breath of relief. ”What are you doing here?” You asked and turned your head slightly to look at him over your shoulder.

“I had to see you. I just got back into town. Now be a good girl and don’t move.” One of his hands slid from your waist down to your thigh. The store wasn’t that crowded, but there were still some people walking up and down the aisles. You wondered if you should tell him to stop. But the idea of getting caught—the idea of him taking you right then and there—was too thrilling to refuse. Not that you were sure you even had it in you to refuse him. If this was what he wanted, then this was what he would get.

You spread your legs slightly as his hand moved up your thigh, closer to your aching core. Where you needed his touch the most. His finger grazed over your clothed pussy, and he pressed down on your clit, causing a moan to escape your lips.

“We don’t want to attract any attention and get kicked out before I’ve made you cum, now do we?” He asked, his lips closed to your ear, and his teeth grazed gently along your ear. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin at the sound of his voice and the way his fingers kept sliding up and down your pussy. You could feel the wetness growing on your panties as your slick began to trickle out of you. He had you turned on and wet beyond normal within mere seconds.

“No. I’ll be good. I promise.” You vowed. Sliding your panties to the side, he let one finger slide in between your wet lips.

“Already so wet. Fuck, this turns you on, doesn’t it? You want me to fuck you here in this store right now, don’t you? His voice was low and almost threatening, but it was like music to your ears. That was exactly what you wanted. What you needed. You needed to feel him inside of you now. You didn't want to wait until you got back to your apartment, or fuck even out to his car if he had it parked out back. You needed him to take you here now, with the risk of getting caught only spurring you on.

“Yes, please, Dave, fuck me here, now,” you pleaded with him. Begged him to give you what you so desperately needed.

“You’re so goddamn filthy and depraved, and I fucking love it. Bend over and show me that sweet ass of yours, and I'll bury my cock in your deliciously tight pussy.” Without any protest, you did as he asked, bending over slightly and pushing your ass out and into his now rock-hard cock that was pressing against his lacks.

As one hand kept sliding up and down your slit and every now and then pressed against your throbbing clit, his other hand left your waist and you heard the telltale sound of a zipper being unzipped before he lined himself up with your hole and pushed all the way inside in one slow thrust.

You gripped the shelf in front of you for support as he began to move in and out while his fingers still pressed and circled your clit. The tightness within began to build fast. And you knew he would have you cum within mere moments.

“Say my name,” he demanded, his voice strained from thrusting into you hard and slow and from him holding back. “Tell me who makes you feel this good.”

“You, oh fuck. You Dave, only you,” and that was the truth. Ever since your first encounter, you hadn’t even looked at another man and found them attractive. All you ever thought about was Dave. How he knew just how to make you melt into putty in his hands. How he managed to make you do things you had secretly always wanted to do but had always been too afraid to ask for with any previous partner. He just knew what you wanted and needed without you having to ask.

“Fuck, your sweet pussy is squeezing me so damn tight. I’m going to need you to cum. I won’t last long.” His hot breath on your neck as he kept thrusting into you in slow and hard thrusts was like throwing gasoline on an already smoldering fire. “Cum for me, baby.”

That last sentence—him calling you baby and him pressing down while circling your clit is what finally sent you. The rush of sensation hit you hard and fast as you came. You bit down on your lower lip to keep from screaming out his name. Though you were sure he would have loved that. You, however, would have never been able to show your face at this store again, and it was the one closest to your apartment.

“Fuuuck!” He gasped and pushed as deep into you as he could, and then he came too. Pouring himself into you. His cock twitched a few times before he stilled, and he leaned his head against your shoulder as he breathed slowly. “You will be the death of me.”

He pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants after he had repositioned your panties back into place. You turned around to finally look at him.

“Me? You are the one who snuck up on me while I was just minding my business, shopping,” you said, smiling sweetly at him. “How is it that you knew exactly where I was, by the way?"

“I may have put in a tracker on your phone,” he confessed. He looked you up and down before meeting your eyes. You didn’t care that he had done that; to be honest, the moment you realized he was behind you, that had been your first thought—that he may have actually been spying on you and keeping track of you. And you found it cute in a sick and twisted way. But then again, nothing about whatever this was that you had with Dave was normal by any measure.

“Hmm… I thought you might have.”

“You’re not pissed?” He asked and looked at you, almost shocked. Like he had expected you to lose your marbles when you found out.

“Nope, and just so you know, I found the cameras in my apartment too, and no, I’m not mad about them either. I find it kind of endearing that you went through all that trouble just so that you could keep an eye on me.” You wanted him to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you did not care or were mad at him about it all. No matter how messed up it all was or how you two had stumbled upon each other, you were glad you had.

“Wow, you’re almost as fucked up as me, aren’t you?"

“Almost,” you agreed.

He grabbed your hand and started to pull out towards the exit.

“But my groceries!” You called out.

“Fuck the groceries. You can come back tomorrow and finish your shopping. I’m taking you out to dinner, then we’re going back to your place, where I tend to have my desert in private."He smirked at you as he looked behind him to see your reaction. A big smile grew on your lips as he continued to pull you by your hand out of the store and over to where his car was parked.

When he reached his car, he walked with you over to the passenger side and opened the door for you.

“Such a gentle man,” you mocked, but not in a mean way. In a playful way. Because the first time he put you in his car, you had been unconscious. And you were almost sure he had put you in the trunk that night.

"Oh, I most definitely am not, most of the time. But for you, I am willing to make an exception,” he replied with that half smirk upon his lips that sent a shiver down your spine and had your body humming again. Desperate and wanting for more and anything this man would give you. And now he wanted to take you out for dinner. But after that, you were sure he was going to give you the best night of your life.

------------------------------ The End--------------------------------------

Masterlist

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bbangsoonie · 3 years

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just u

member: sunwoo genre: fluff word count: 1,903 synopsis: sunwoo thinks you’re a flirty drunk but doesn’t notice you only flirt with him.

a/n: oc’s facial flush after drinking alcohol is mentioned once in the fic

Eric: giant sleepover at hyunjae’s tonight

Hyunjae: this is news to me ??

Eric: be prepared to pull an all-nighter because we are doing everything from watching movies to playing games to ✨drinking✨

Sangyeon: his house is also my house ???

Eric: y/n, can you pick up some snacks and drinks with sunwoo?

You: sure

Sunwoo: this is news to me as well ?

Eric: see you all at 6! i know no one has classes today and tomorrow’s saturday so i expect full attendance :)

Juyeon: again, our house is not just solely hyunjae’s ???? younghoon and i live here as well ;-;

Eric’s impromptu gathering was in no way organized but he knew everyone would go along with it. Your group of friends consisted of the most spontaneous people you’ve ever met. They were always down for anything, anytime.

That was how you ended up going grocery shopping with Sunwoo and Haknyeon after you stopped by campus for your professor’s office hours. You ran into Haknyeon there who wanted to tag along to make sure you bought his favorite snacks.

“Any requests for chasers?” you called out to the boys who were an aisle away. You scanned the shelves of sodas in front of you, trying to recall who liked what drinks.

“Chasers are for babies,” Haknyeon scoffed as he made his way over to you.

“I’m baby,” you proudly pointed at yourself.

“Are you referring to the Kirby meme right now?” he blinked. When you nodded, he pretended to gag, making you slap his back.

“Do you guys think this is enough alcohol?” Sunwoo arrived with a cart full of bottles. You almost laughed at the amount of cases. Anyone passing by would think you were shopping wholesale. Which honestly didn’t sound like a bad idea for a group of 12.

“Should be,” Haknyeon shrugged, taking over the cart. “Now time for the good stuff!”

You and Sunwoo watched as he threw in bags of chips and jelly into the cart. You only picked out one or two for yourself since Haknyeon was essentially just getting everything. There was a wide variety for you to choose from anyway. Sunwoo had to physically stop him from adding more stuff, insisting that there’d be dinner as well.

With Hyunjae in charge of ordering food, it was no surprise that you walked into his house smelling like chicken. Eric greeted you from the kitchen and you hollered out a “hey” before joining Changmin and Chanhee in the living room. They were in the middle of an intense round of Super Smash Bros and by the looks of it, Changmin was winning. When the game finally ended, Changmin shrieked with laughter while Chanhee dejectedly collapsed onto the sofa.

Jacob and Kevin walked in not long after, exchanging greetings with everyone else. Sangyeon, Juyeon, and Younghoon emerged from the staircase after finishing their assignments upstairs in their own respective rooms. With the whole group together, Eric gathered you all in front of the TV to have a Super Smash Bros tournament.

“Only people who suck at playing games pick Kirby,” he yelled as you picked up a controller.

“I do admit I suck at games and love Kirby,” you stuck your tongue out as you chose your character, making Chanhee groan.

“All you do is spam down b!” Kevin whined.

“Well no one wants to teach me other moves or how to play other characters,” you shrugged.

“I tried,” Hyunjae sighed. “You’re an impossible student.”

“That’s because everyone kills me off while I try to learn!” you huffed.

To your amusement, you won the game by avoiding everyone in the air while they battled amongst themselves. Then you constantly attacked Younghoon with the same move until he eventually died. He screamed in frustration when your victory flashed across the screen.

Unfortunately for you, everyone decided to target you in the beginning for the next round. After easily finishing you off, they enjoyed what they called a “true fight” that Eric ultimately won.

The long night officially began with the mountain of boxes of chicken in the kitchen. It was easily demolished before Changmin won rock, paper, scissors to put a horror movie on. Before the film was even chosen, Sunwoo was complaining about how he hated jump scares.

“Bro just say you’re afraid and move on,” Eric snickered.

“I’m not scared! I just don’t like being surprised,” Sunwoo insisted.

“Pft, if you’re a true man you can watch it,” Chanhee teased, unaware of his embarrassment to come.

The next couple of hours was chaotic. Chanhee screamed at every noise, making everyone else scream as well. Haknyeon and Sunwoo ended up watching the movie with their ears closed and Jacob gave up entirely by trying to nap instead. You had the unfortunate seat next to Younghoon and became his ragdoll that he clung onto and shook every time he got frightened. You didn’t even get to react to the movie because he kept screaming and grabbing onto you.

Eric and his mischievous instincts spent the whole time trying to startle Juyeon who ended up chasing him around until he promised to stop. Changmin, Sangyeon, Hyunjae, and Kevin were the only ones who truly enjoyed the movie.

When the lights came back on, Chanhee and Sunwoo pretended that it wasn’t scary at all. Hyunjae laughed, reminding them of their reactions to which they feigned oblivion to.

“I need a drink,” you groaned. “Younghoon stressed me out more than the ghost did.”

“Everyone go slow and steady,” Eric warned. “I want to be playing until the sun comes up.”

“My body is too old for this,” Sangyeon mumbled as he began taking the alcohol out of the fridge.

“Hey, Y/n, can you pass me a bottle?” Sunwoo asked. You felt your heart skip a beat when his fingers brushed past yours to take the drink from your hands. The exchange made you blush and you quickly took a shot to mask your tinted cheeks with the flush of the liquor.

Spending the night with your friends meant that you would be spending it trying hard to not fall in love with your budding crush. You tried your best to keep a safe distance from him, relying on Chanhee to be your trusty barrier.

After a series of drinking games (that mostly resulted in your loss), you were beginning to feel the effects. With Chanhee and Haknyeon by your side, you were slightly swinging in your seat. You were all sitting on the floor in the spacious living room to start whatever game Hyunjae had suggested. His words had gone in and out of your ears while you were finishing your last punishment drink.

“So basically one person will ask another person a question and that person will say their answer out loud. The answer has to be the name of someone in this room. Those who are curious about the question will drink to hear it,” Hyunjae explained.

“Can I go first?” Kevin excitedly asked. With the majority agreeing, he happily went up to Jacob to whisper in his ear.

After hearing his question, Jacob thought for a second before saying your name. The boys teasingly “ooh”ed, making you roll your eyes. Sunwoo, Eric, and Changmin were the only ones curious enough to drink for the answer.

“Aw, Y/n, you don’t wanna know why he picked you?” Kevin pouted.

“By the look on your face, I think I get the gist,” you chuckled. “Any questions involving girls only leaves me as an option. And to be brutally honest, I don’t really care what he thinks of me.”

Jacob, faking pain, clutched his heart.

“Ouch,” he joked.

Jacob asked his question to Younghoon, who answered with your name again. This time, you were slightly intrigued.

“Me again for the second time in a row? Now I’m kinda curious,” you pretended to think hard.

Eric drank again and eagerly asked for Jacob’s question. Trying to elicit a response from you, he acted shocked and grabbed Younghoon by the collar. Laughing, you gave in and drank to hear the question.

“He thinks you’re gonna be the first to get cuffed,” Jacob whispered to you.

“Ah, unfortunately no,” you shook your head at Younghoon, sitting back down.

This time, Younghoon asked you a question. He asked who you would date if you had to choose from the friend group.

“Sunwoo,” you said almost immediately. His jaw dropped at how fast you made your decision and he gave you a smug look.

Again, Eric couldn’t hide his curiosity. His reaction made the rest of them interested and everyone ended up drinking to find out what Younghoon had asked you. Hyunjae hooted but the alcohol in your system left you unphased by all their teasing.

After their excitement died down, the game continued until each person had a turn. It ended with Eric drunk crying thanks to Juyeon picking him as his most cherished friend. Seeing him cry made Sunwoo cry as well and Changmin was having a blast laughing at them both.

Not wanting Sunwoo to also turn into a crying drunk, Sangyeon took his cup away from him. He reminded him to keep his pace, prompting him to sulk. As soon as Sangyeon looked away, however, Sunwoo stole it back and downed the rest of his drink.

“Sunwoo, no,” Sangyeon groaned.

“Sunwoo yes!” Sunwoo exclaimed with glee.

The group then split off into subgroups to take a break from drinking. You, Younghoon, Juyeon, Changmin, Sunwoo, and Eric propped a phone up to make TikToks together. Meanwhile, the rest of the boys were just chilling on the couch, laughing as they watched you embarrass yourselves.

Subconsciously, you ended up with your arm wrapped around Sunwoo’s neck for most of the stupid 15 second video. You honestly weren’t sure what you were filming or why you were so close to your crush but you were having too much fun to care.

Chanhee, on the other hand, definitely noticed. He smirked as you rested your head on Sunwoo’s lap and Sunwoo’s face reddened. He nudged Jacob to point it out and made fun of how oblivious you two were.

Before reconvening, you stepped outside to get some fresh air. When you didn’t return after 10 minutes, Sunwoo was sent to retrieve you. You lit up seeing him join you on the veranda and beckoned for him to sit down next to you.

“It’s cold out here,” he said. “Let’s go back in.”

“So then you should hold my hand to keep me warm,” you giggled, holding out your hand.

“You’re drunk,” he commented as he raised an eyebrow.

“Drunk on you,” you winked, making him shyly look away. He cleared his throat to rid himself of the awkward tension between you.

“You know, you’re a flirty drunk,” he mused.

“Only to you,” you shrugged. “Haven’t you ever heard of drunk actions reflecting sober thoughts?”

Taken aback, he stared at you in silence. You pouted at his lack of response and got up to go back inside. Before you could open the door, he finally spoke up.

“I’ll think about it if your sober actions reflect your drunk thoughts,” he said.

“Really?” you beamed.

“As long as your drunk self is only flirty with me,” he teased.

“Oh please, have you ever seen me like this with the other guys?” you laughed. “I only like you. Just you.”

#the boyz #sunwoo #the boyz sunwoo #the boyz fluff #sunwoo fluff #the boyz sunwoo fluff #tbz fluff #tbz sunwoo #the boyz fic #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #sunwoo fic #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo imagines #tbz fic #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines

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cali-holland · 4 years

Text

Hubby- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Requested by Anonymous: Hello my love! can I get a cute request? just super cute domestic Tom and y/n. Because we all know love isn't just about the grand gestures, but the simple moments or giggling together and making faces in the mirror as you brush your teeth, him stealing a slice of veggie off the chopping board as you get dinner ready, him complaining that you like too many cushions on the bed, the little mumbled 'love you' as you both go to sleep. I'm down for reading anything like that . love your writing :)

Prompt: Tom makes even the simplest of days amazing.

Word Count: 4800

Warnings: Swearing, sexual jokes/innuendos, some pain (Tom gets hit in the balls at one point), LOTS of fluff

A/N: this is for the lovely @cunaeparker ‘s writing challenge, the prompt is in bold! I combined it with the request because it just went so well with all the fluff!!

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

The familiar sound of a cell phone buzzing drew you out of your deep sleep. With your eyes still closed, you cuddled closer to Tom’s chest, hoping that the phone would quit ringing soon. He shifted underneath you as he tried to reach his phone on the nightstand, but seeing as you two were tangled up on your side of the bed and there was basically a mountain of pillows on his side, he couldn’t quite grab it without moving away from you.

“Just leave it.” You mumbled, not wanting him (a.k.a. your pillow) to move.

“Love, it’s my mum.” He laughed lightly, the vibrations running through his bare chest to your cheek. He pressed a kiss to your head, before you shifted off him so he could get his phone. He picked up the call and resumed his position as your morning cuddle buddy. You wrapped an arm around his waist and laid your head back on his chest. His free hand mindlessly found its way to play with your hair.

“No, you didn’t wake us.” Tom told his mother, but the raspiness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by her. He laughed, “Okay, yes, you did.” He paused and you could hear her voice coming through the phone. Tom looked down at you for a moment, “Are we still on for the barbecue this afternoon?”

“We can be?” You answered. You both knew he obviously forgot to mention how his mother invited the two of you to a barbecue.

“Yes, mum, we’ll be there. What do you want us to bring?” He spoke back into the phone. “Vegetables? That’s not broad at all.” You lightly smacked his chest at his sarcasm, and his free hand came down to hold the hand that just hit him, “Okay, yeah we can do a salad.” There was another pause as she spoke to him before he replied, “Y/N would love to make some dessert.” Hearing him sign you up for food, you playfully glared at him. He said goodbye to his mother and tossed his phone to the side. You sat up and straddled his waist on your knees, your hands falling by his head to keep your face above his.

“Looks like we’re going grocery shopping.” Tom smiled up at you innocently, his hands resting on your hips.

“When were you going to tell me your mum invited us over?” You asked.

“Now, I guess,” He shrugged slightly. With his thumbs drawing light circles on your hips, he teasingly added, “When were you going to give me my morning kiss?”

You shrugged in return, but leaned down to kiss him nonetheless. He smiled into the kiss, moving a hand to cradle the back of your head, keeping you in place to continue kissing you.

“Your morning breath’s shit.” He laughed, pulling away from the innocent-turned-a-bit-heated kiss as you sat up straight.

“Yeah, well you have the ugliest bed head I have ever seen.” You teased, ruffling his hair. He caught your wrist, pulling your hand down to in front of his face.

“I believe this hand’s the culprit of that.” He joked, pecking your open palm.

“You weren’t complaining last night.” You shuffled off of him and got out of the bed. Walking over to your shared closet, you started to plan out a nice outfit for the day. “Come on, we gotta go grocery shopping.”

“Wanna shower together? Save time and save water?” Tom suggested, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“You get so horny in the morning.” You laughed.

“I’m needy, not horny.” He insisted before pressing a kiss to your neck. “We’ll be conserving water. C’mon, wifey, think of the planet.”

“Alright, go start the shower.” Both of you knew you would cave like almost every morning, but it didn’t stop him from letting out an excited cheer. He pecked your cheek and left to go warm up the water.

Once you two were showered and dressed, you went to make some bacon and eggs for breakfast while Tom made you both a morning cup of tea.

“Bacon,” You stated, holding out a piece of bacon from your spot by the stove as he fixed you some tea at the island. He leaned over and ate the bacon from your fingers.

“Tasty.” He hummed, turning back to his task.

“It’s bacon, duh.” You laughed, eating a piece of bacon yourself.

“Shit. We don’t have any more milk.” Tom sighed, looking at the blank spot in the fridge where the milk would normally sit. He looked at the two mugs of tea and the bowl of sugar on the counter; without milk, it just wouldn’t be right.

“Did you finish it off?” You asked, knowing he made himself a cup of tea late last night before you two went to bed.

“Damn it, I did.” He let out a groan.

“So we need milk.” You noted, taking out your phone to create a legitimate list for the store; it’d be too long for you to remember everything. “What do we want for dinner tomorrow?”

“Wanna try that lamb recipe you found last week?” He suggested.

“Yeah, can you check what we need for that?”

“You got it.” He nodded and pulled out his phone. You’d sent him the recipe just last week, saying that it looked good and that you two should try to make it sometime. He’d never made lambchops before so he was a bit skeptical, but agreed with you nonetheless. He walked through your kitchen and pantry, searching to make sure you had all of the ingredients, while you continued to finish cooking the eggs and bacon.

“Breakfast done yet?” He asked, finishing his search.

“Yep,” You replied as you dished up the food.

“You’re the best, darling.” Tom beamed, giving you a quick kiss. You grabbed both plates while he gathered the silverware and you both sat down at the small table in your kitchen nook.

“If only we had milk.” He pouted, eating a bite of the eggs.

“Hey, you drank the rest of it.” You reminded him.

“If I remember correctly, you said it was the best cuppa I’d ever made and you drank a good half of that.” He corrected you, but you just shook your head. “Wanna make that chocolate cake for dessert? I know Harry and Sam are going to be expecting it.”

Homemade chocolate cake- your ‘signature’ dessert that all of the Holland boys loved. In fact, it was that very cake that made Tom fall in love with you. The way to his heart was truly through his stomach.

“Why isn’t Sam making anything? He’s the chef.” You laughed, thinking about how Sam was insistent on being the head chef of the family.

“I think he’s actually making bread with some sort of dip.”

“Sam’s making us bread?” Your mouth was already watering at the thought of fresh homemade bread.

“We should try making bread sometime.” Tom offered. You nodded in agreement, you’d never made bread before but it’d be interesting to attempt it with Tom.

With breakfast over, Tom started to load up the dishwasher with your plates and the frying pans while you made your way into the bathroom to start on your makeup. By the time he’d finished and come into the room, you were just about to start your mascara.

“Can I do it?” He asked, an eager smile on his face.

“Don’t poke me in the eye, Holland.” You said, trying to sound threatening. You sat on the bathroom counter with your legs spread so he could stand between them. You handed him the mascara tube. He had done your mascara a couple times before (because he just really really wanted to try to do your makeup) so you trusted him to do it, for the most part. As long as he didn’t stab you somehow, then you were fine. You sat still while he applied the makeup to your lashes.

“There. Does that look good, wifey?” He stepped back enough for you to turn and look in the mirror. It was even, you had to give him props for that, but it was almost nonexistent. He was still trying to find the happy medium between applying too little and applying too much.

“You did great.” You gave him a quick kiss and hopped off the counter to full face the mirror again. You applied some more mascara on your lashes quickly and he shook his head.

“I’ll get it one day.” He stated, getting out the toothbrush as you laughed lightly at him. Tom grabbed your toothbrush and his, running them under the sink before applying toothpaste to them.

“Thank you,” You smiled as he handed you your toothbrush.

“Can we get bananas and macadamia nuts too?” Tom asked, half muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth as he stopped brushing. You spit out the toothpaste into the sink, looking at him through the mirror.

“You want me to make banana nut bread again?” You questioned, before continuing to brush your teeth.

“It’s the best.” He nodded.

“Okay, we’ll get the stuff for it.” You reassured him. He pulled out his phone, looking at a text he’d received as you eyed him through the mirror. Even when doing something as simple as brushing his teeth, your boyfriend was just breathtaking and you felt so lucky to have him. He noticed your gaze and pulled a funny face- well, as best he could while brushing his teeth. You laughed and leaned over the sink, spitting out the mixture of toothpaste and saliva in your mouth as you coughed. If it was anyone else beside you, you would’ve been embarrassed by the unattractiveness of the scene, but it was Tom, your loving boyfriend of four years.

“God, you’re making me choke on spit.” You laughed, cleaning off your toothbrush under the faucet.

“Spitters are quitters, babe.” Tom teased you and you playfully elbowed him in the torso, causing him to yelp in surprise. You stepped aside so he could use the sink. After spitting into the sink and rinsing out his mouth, he turned to you with a cheeky grin, “I know, I know. I of all people should know you’re not a spitter.”

“Fuck off.” You rolled your eyes at him, spraying some of your perfume onto your neck. Your collection of perfume sat in the corner of the bathroom counter, right next to Tom’s own collection of cologne- ironically (but it was totally expected actually) he had more.

“By the way, my mum asked if we could host the barbecue here? Apparently my dad forgot their barbecue was broken.” He asked you as he put on cologne.

“Did you forget to tell me that too?”

“No, no, I swear she just now texted me about it.” He insisted, slipping on a watch while you put on some jewelry. The two of you maneuvering through the bathroom easily in your morning routine.

“That’s fine if we host, but that just means you’re helping me clean.” You stated.

“When do I not help you clean?” He smiled at you innocently and you narrowed your eyes at him. You both knew exactly how much he helped you clean. In all honesty, he would genuinely help you clean for a solid hour, but it was around hour 2 of cleaning that turned into a dance party for him, which turned into him distracting you from cleaning. “I can always ask if Harry could host it, but then Harrison would be there.”

“Oh no, definitely can’t handle Harrison showing up.” You sarcastically rolled your eyes. It was a running joke between the three of you that you and Harrison were competing for Tom’s attention. Harrison was like a brother to you, and there really wasn’t any competition going on, but it was still funny to joke about. “Your mum probably invited him already.”

“She probably did.” He laughed. He shoved off the numerous pillows on his side of the bed, except for the one he actually sleeps on at the head of the bed, “Do we really need that many pillows?”

“They’re comfy!” You insisted, pulling up the bottom sheet on your side as he mirrored your actions across the bed.

“I’m your pillow, you don’t even use them.”

“You’re not wrong, but we’re keeping them.” You smiled while the two of you finished making the bed.

After you two went to the grocery store (and Tom just about dropped most of the groceries while unloading them because he was carrying like ten bags between his two hands since “multiple trips are for the weak, love”), he put away the groceries while you started the laundry. While it wasn’t something his family would actually see when they came later, it’d been piling up for days and you just really needed it to get done.

“What do you want to listen to?” Tom asked as you came back into the kitchen. He sat perched on the kitchen counter with his phone in hand, small bluetooth stereo sitting beside him. Just as you opened your mouth to suggest an artist, he cut you off with a grin, “No One Direction.”

“Shawn Mendes then?” You teased, stepping between his legs.

“Nope.” He shook his head.

“Why’d you ask me then, hubby?” You laughed, taking his phone from his hands and stepping away from him.

“Hey, that’s mine!” He jumped off the counter, trying to grab his phone back.

“Too late.” You smiled as the familiar opening to “Steal My Girl” played over the speakers. You queued a few more random songs on his Spotify and handed his phone back over to him, “Now, you’re on vacuum duty.”

“You said ‘duty’.” He giggled like a schoolboy.

“Thomas,” You sighed.

“You lined that one up for me!” He gave you a quick kiss. You shook your head at your crazy boyfriend as he wandered off to the closet where you kept the vacuum.

“Everybody wanna steal my girl, everybody wanna take her heart away,” Tom shouted along to the chorus from the other room. “Couple billion in the whole wide world, find another one ‘cause she belongs to me!”

You sang along to the song while you worked on the cake. Once it was in the oven, you started on cutting the array of vegetables for the salad. You weren’t far into the process of washing and cutting the different vegetables before Tom came into the kitchen vacuum in hand.

“Do I get some?” He asked, spying the cucumber you were currently cutting up. He walked over to you, mouth open wide wanting a slice. You gave him a piece of the cucumber and he hummed in content. He cracked open the oven slightly to smell the cake baking in there, “Damn, I should wife you up, you’re great in the kitchen.”

“Uhuh,” You laughed at his comment. While you two called each other wifey/hubby and make “wife me up” jokes, neither of you really were ready for marriage and neither of you felt any pressure to get married. “I left the beaters out for you.”

Tom smiled as he grabbed one of the chocolate covered beaters, licking it like a little kid with a lollipop. The song changed to “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” and your boyfriend wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Don’t go breaking my heart,” He started singing into the beater (that had been mostly licked clean by that nice tongue of his), nodding at you encouragingly to keep singing.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” You sang back, unable to hide your smile at his antics.

“Oh honey, if I get restless,”

“Baby, you’re not that kind”

He set the beater aside to take your hands in his, pulling you in to dance with him. Your little impromptu dancing and singing party ended when the song changed and you pulled him back to the reality that was cleaning. While Tom finished vacuuming the house and cleaning the tables outside, you completed the salad and cake and cleaned the kitchen.

“Wanna watch something until my parents show up?” Tom asked you from his spot on the couch in the living room as you began to move the laundry.

“Sure, just fold these.” You said, walking into the living room. He frowned, hoping he was done with household chores. Seeing his reaction, you emptied the laundry basket of clean clothes on him.

“Hey, I’m layin’ here!” He did in his best overdramatic New Yorker impression.

“Fold the laundry, Dustin Hoffman.” You shook your head at him before leaving to finish moving the laundry around. You called back to him from the other room, “When is your family coming?”

“About twenty minutes?” Tom replied, checking his phone quickly to look at the time.

“Did you see if Haz was coming?” You asked, coming back into the room to help him fold the clothes.

“Why? You wanna see Haz that desperately?” He joked.

“Oh obviously. What’s the point of moving in with you if I can’t show off to Haz that I’m winning?” You teased. Tom threw a sock at you, shaking his head with a laugh.

“Yeah, Harry said he’s coming. We’ve got an even number for football now.” He smiled, ready to play against his brothers.

“I’m so going to kick your ass after what happened last time.” You stated.

“Darling, you know that was an accident.” Tom insisted, still feeling a bit guilty about the incident. Last time you were playing football with him, his brothers, and Harrison, he accidentally kicked the ball in your face while you were even on the same team. Luckily, there was no mark, but Tom was even clingier than usual as he felt incredibly guilty about it. It occurred a month ago and you were ready for payback.

“I’m just teasing.” You smiled, leaning over the pile of laundry to give him a kiss. The two of you worked silently on finishing up folding the clothes until Tom’s eyes landed on your lacy black underwear, cheekily smiling at you while he held it up.

“Your boyfriend must be so lucky to see you in this.”

“Oh those? Didn’t buy ‘em for him.” You teased, taking the underwear from his hands and putting it aside. Tom’s hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you into his lap.

“I’m so lucky to have you. You’re my favorite person.” He said as you rested your forehead against his.

“You’re my favorite person, too.” Your hands rested at the back of his neck as you leaned in to kiss him. With your fingers scratching the nape of his neck lightly as they played with his hair there and his hands bringing you even more tightly against him, you two started to get caught up in the moment; nothing lustful, just passionate and romantic. You broke the kiss, your nose resting against his as you looked into his eyes, both of you a bit breathless.

You jumped hearing the doorbell ring. His family was here, and that meant the laundry needed to be off the couch and hidden in your room. As Tom went to answer the door, you hurried to move the laundry to your room, quickly folding the last few articles of clothing.

“Smells clean in here, must be Y/N.” Sam teased his older brother as he walked into the house with Tessa at his feet. He held a container of the freshly baked bread while his parents and Paddy came in behind him, bringing in the uncooked main course. Tom rolled his eyes at Sam’s comment, leaning down to give Tessa some well deserved love. You had lived with Tom for almost two years now, and his brothers still loved to poke fun at how organized and well-decorated his house is. Harry and Harrison trailed shortly after them, holding a ball for later and a case of beer as their contribution for the evening. You came out of the bedroom, having put the laundry away enough for now, and greeted your second family.

“Were we interrupting something?” Harrison snickered, spotting the underwear you had accidentally left on the couch.

“It’s laundry day. Get your head out of the gutter.” Tom quickly grabbed the offending undergarment and haphazardly threw it in your room before closing the door.

“Gross.” Harry gagged.

“So no sitting on the couch.” Sam laughed.

“Don’t sit anywhere then if you’re so concerned.” You smacked your boyfriend for his teasing comment that wasn’t completely untrue. Though you loved the Hollands and they loved you, you still weren’t comfortable with the sex jokes in front of his parents, that’s just never a good topic.

“Sam, that bread smells heavenly.” You told him, effectively changing the topic.

“Thank you. I tried a new recipe to make the artichoke dip to go with it.” He explained as you all moved out of the house to the outside table. He set the container of the table and opened it up so you could see (and smell even more) the bread.

You got wrapped up in a conversation with Sam and Nikki as you pet Tessa, who sat happily at your feet. Tom and his dad got the barbecue together while the other three boys started to kick around the ball on the grass.

“Wanna be on my team, wifey?” Tom asked you, walking up behind your chair and resting his head on your shoulder, letting his hands fall to your lap.

“Hell no, I told you I was getting payback.” You replied, making Sam laugh while his older brother pouted.

“Pwease?” He grabbed your hands in his, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Too late, she’s on my team.” Sam piped up, despite the fact that teams hadn’t even been discussed yet.

“We’re stealing your girl.” Harry said, kicking the ball over to Tom. You unwrapped yourself from Tom’s arms to stand up as his pout grew bigger.

“Aw, you’re breaking his heart. Does this mean I’m the favorite now?” Harrison asked with a hopeful smile.

“Only if we win.” Tom stated, picking up the ball and walking over to the far side of the yard with Harrison and Paddy.

“So that’s a no.” You smiled at Harrison. Tom set the ball between the two teams, in the middle of the two ‘goalposts’ (a.k.a. the cones Tom set up on either side of the yard months ago).

The game began and Harrison was doing his best to block you from getting the ball (and keeping Tom from getting distracted by you). The Hollands were, of course, getting a bit more physical than regular football, kicking each other and shoving a bit, as brothers do. The game was 2-0 with you and the twins winning. When Paddy passed the ball to Harrison, you managed to swipe it from him. You sent it over to Sam and Tom basically slide tackled his brother to get it.

“That’s a foul!” You shouted as Sam landed on the grass with a soft ‘thud’.

“Nope!” Tom exclaimed, kicking the ball through Harry’s legs and into the goal. He cheered with Harrison and Paddy while you helped up Sam, who was fine and used to the physicalness of it all. This time, you started off with the ball and Harrison tried to steal it back, but you were too fast in swiftly kicking it to Harry, who Paddy was trying to block.

“Elbow him!” Tom called out, running about in front of Sam to block him.

“Tom,” Nikki said in a warning tone when he started to push Sam back a bit.

“I need to win!” He replied. Harry passed the ball back to you and you dribbled it down the makeshift field.

“Go away!” Sam shoved his older brother, trying to get him out of the way.

“Fine!” Tom huffed, running over to you. Harrison took it as a sign to go block the open twin.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” You asked your boyfriend as he attempted to kick the ball out from your feet, but your movements were too quick for him. You nutmegged him, sending the ball straight through his legs to Harry. Your perfect pass was defeated by Paddy stealing the ball from him. Before you could move to block him, Tom picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

“Go Pads!” He cheered, holding your waist as you kicked your feet in the air.

“Tom, put me down! This is cheating!” You shouted. You felt Tom’s hand shift subtly more to your butt than your hip, making you slap his back. With you caught up with Tom, Paddy scored the goal easily.

“Hey, now, no inappropriate touching in front of the Padster.” Harry teased, seeing his brother’s hand placement.

“Shove off!” Paddy threw the ball over to his curly haired brother.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tom chuckled, setting you down.

“You’re going to regret that.” You told him, before Harry kicked the ball to signal the game was back on. Knowing his distraction would most likely not work again, Tom switched places with Harrison, going back to beating up Sam.

“Food will be done in two minutes.” Dom announced and you all knew that meant this was the speed round. The stakes were high with both teams tied. After a few minutes of Tom basically playing keep away when he finally got the ball, he kicked it over to Paddy. Harry elbowed his brother and sent the ball to you. Not even stopping it to gain control, you kicked it straight at their open goal.

It would’ve gone in and you would’ve won if Tom hadn’t jumped in the way to save it.

“Ah, fuck!” He shouted, grabbing himself while the rest of the boys grimaced and laughed. Even you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing a little at his mistake. Seeing an opportunity to make a goal with everyone paused, Sam kicked the ball in and he and Harry cheered- you won.

“Baby, you alright?” You asked, going over to Tom who was still bent over in pain.

“God, you really were going for payback.” He groaned, but nodded that he was okay.

“We won!” Sam and Harry cheered as everyone sat down around the table with Dom serving up the food.

“I’m sorry you got in the way of my glorious kick.” You told Tom, holding his hand in yours.

“Yeah, it was a really good kick.” He winced a little.

Dinner and dessert with the Hollands + Harrison (the honorary Holland) went on without any more injuries (unless you count Harry shoving a piece of cake in Paddy’s face as a joke). Goodbyes went all around as they left later, and Tom did the rest of the dishes while you cleaned outside.

“You feeling better?” You wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, once you finished outside. He stopped his work at the sink.

“Better. I thought you broke it for a few minutes there.” Tom laughed, washing his hands and drying them before turning around in your arms.

“Oh no, we wouldn’t want that.” You teased, “I’d have to go find another dick until it healed.”

“Is that all I am to you? A dick appointment?” He asked with a small laugh, pulling you in closer to him by your waist.

“No, you’re my favorite person in the world.” You smiled at him tenderly as he ran a hand through your hair and rested it on your cheek.

“You’re my favorite person, too.” He leaned down to give you a soft kiss.

The romantic, sweet moment was cut short by his next teasing comment, “You know, that kick was really great. I’m still impressed. You really know your way around balls.”

“Shut up and kiss me, hubby.”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #saws300followerwc

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orenjineki · 3 years

Text

Dabi the house-elf

Summary:When you don't get your Hogwarts letter at 11, you spam Hogwarts with letters until they get pissed of and send you a human Dabi who thinks he is a house-elf. And he's always naked and hung. Crap.

Warnings: Dub-Con, Dubious Consent, R18, Minors DNI

Notes: I am so sorry but I saw this tiktok by @savs_creates where Dabi is a house-elf and I just couldn't stop myself. https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMerqQ5Dc/

I thank @mangospams who is my greatest inspo when it comes to Yandere Dabi.

You had a house-elf. As a muggle. A house-elf. The size of a grown, human!, man with a sizeable…erm, well size. Not only his frame was decently sized but also his private parts, as you liked to call them in your mind when you happened to accidentally see them from the corner of your eyes when the brown bedsheets you had given the man? elf? once again did a terrible job at covering him.

Which you did not want to see since you were still unsure about his race. To be fair, you were unsure about a lot of things since you turned eleven. Up until your 11th birthday you were convinced that you would get a letter from Hogwarts, be declared a witch and go on a great many adventure with your new, magical friends in a school that was essentially a death trap for children. (They have a forbidden forest with giant spiders, that can and will eat you, unless you raised the og spider because you thought it was a cute pet!). The thought that Hogwarts was not real, merely a product of fiction, did not occur to you. And why would it, since quirks were real, why shouldn't magic be?

And so you waited for your letter, standing on the doormat of your home, looking for owls. But none came. But they had to! And so you waited. And waited. With the interruption of school, food and sleep. But not a single bird, not even a pigeon, dropped a letter with a red wax seal in front on your feet. But you never gave up hope, maybe they just got lost on their way?

You waited so long that you eventually turned twelve. Angry about this unreliability and with a feeling of betrayal, you decided to take matters into your own hands and write them a letter instead, ha! And so you did, every day, complaining about the fact that this magical institute had the audacity to not send you your magical letter! Heck, even an email would have been fine! Your parents tried to stop you at first but since you were somewhat decent at school, they let you keep your paper intense hobby. When you had sent your 6666thletter, way past your 18th birthday, you finally got an answer!

''Dear Ms. …,

We have received your thousands upon thousands of letters, demanding to be announced a witch and allowed into our school. However, we are glad to inform you that you are, through and through, a muggle. Usually we would ignore such profligate attempts at gaining something which you do not deserve but the amount of paper you have wasted for your letters poses a threat to the environment which muggle folk already treat with so much disrespect. Therefore, as a reimbursement, and a desperate attempt to get you to stop writing us, we will send you a human who thinks he is also a magical being without a trace of magic in his veins. In this case it is a human man who got hit with a confundus charm as a child and is convinced that he is a house-elf. When you finish reading this letter, you will find him standing in your kitchen, awaiting your orders.

Sincerely, the secretary of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.''

Wait, so Hogwarts is real? And you have a house-elf/human now? What? You drop the letter and rush into the kitchen to see a man, with white hair, piercing blue eyes and piercings on…anyway. You couldn't decide what was more confusing about the situation. The fact that he appeared out of nowhere, the fact that large parts of his body were burned or the fact that he was naked. You decided to accept this new version of reality by staring at him incredulously for a good five minutes, in which he did not blink once, staring back at you.

Since he didn't say anything and you started to feel a little drowsy from this… revelation, you decided to end the day early and go to sleep in your one-room apartment. Sadly, your apartment was too small to hide in another room, hoping that he would be gone, only a really weird dream, when you woke up and entered the living room the next morning. Sadly, your living room was also your bedroom and your kitchen and so you could only turn around and stare at the wall incredulously until you fell asleep. The next morning you woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed, since your apartment was always too cold to catch a good night's sleep. But somehow you felt really warm, as if you had shared the bed with another, very warm body.

…

Was that breathing you heard near your ear, right behind you? You turned around in a millisecond and went right back to incredulously staring at your house-elf-human. Holy shit, he was still there. And naked. And now he spoke, making it even harder to ignore his existence. ''Is master mad at Dabi? Should Dabi burn himself as punishment?'' He raised a hand and a very hot and very scary looking blue flame emerged from it. Great, so you had a crazy human who was convinced to be a house-elf with a fire quirk in your very small and very expensive apartment. Just great. You decided to pretend this was real. Maybe if you went along with it, he would be revealed to be a figment of your imagination and someone would send you to a mental hospital where live might be a bit more normal than this. ''N…n…no, please don't! I'm just confused, it's fine, you did nothing wrong.''

And so you had a human house-elf. You tried really hard to convince him that he wasn't an elf, but his believe in his magicalness was as unyielding as 11 year old you's. You decided to just treat him like a really confused roommate. Very, very confused. He kept standing or laying as close to you as possible, staring at you so hard you worried he would set you ablaze with his eyes. Those eyes…

They were always on you. If it wasn't such a weird situation, he might have been your type, though more ''normal'' in his speech patterns preferably. The scars didn't look ugly, just saddening when you wondered about the pain his quirk must have caught him. In order to give him and you more privacy, you gave him an old brown bedsheet as clothing since he refused anything that was new and without holes. He was actually quite helpful around the household, watching you doing daily chores and picking them up immediately the next day until all you had left to do yourself was work and grocery shopping.

He did however always manage to make you slightly uncomfortable with the way he would stare at you whenever he had nothing to do but you had to write a paper or watch a cat video. And he was absolutely horrible when he interacted with other people, other men to be exact. One time, when you forgot to tell him to hide under the blanket when the doorbell rang, the delivery man had been visible from the kitchen unit and he stared at him, an eerie smile on his face, and a blue flame in one hand. You decided to push the delivery man out of his view, grabbed the package and slammed the door shut. After that you had a serious discussion about ''politeness'' with Dabi and he just kept insisting that ''Master doesn't need anyone else, only Dabi''.

You tried to talk him out of this worldview, but every time you even remotely disagreed with him, the room suddenly got very hot and smoke poured out of his ears and you decided to drop it. Maybe you should get a post office box instead.

From that day on everything seemed mostly fine, until you came home from work, very exhausted, with a sore neck. You yawned a lot more than usual when you tapped away on your phone and stretched your arms and moved your head around in a desperate attempt to ease the pain. Suddenly, two very warm hands found their way on your shoulders and a very hard and apparently large cock pressed into you from behind.

You gasped in shock, your breath stopping. Soft, white hair tickled your neck when your ''house-elf'' whispered into your ear: ''Does master need help relaxing? Dabi saw some of those massage videos master always watches at night on her phone. The humans in the videos look very calm after the massage.''

Your eyes widened in realization and horror, your ''house-elf'' had found your browser history. Great…

You tried to wriggle free from his hold, but only managed to rub your ass into his hard, and pierced, member, making the ''house-elf'' groan softly. The deep noise made your legs quiver and pulled a pathetic whimper from your lips. To your own shame, the most recent ''massage video'' you saw came to your mind and you wondered if he would really go this far. Before you could form another coherent thought, he let go of you to grab a glass of coconut oil from the fridge, melting it's content in his hands.

Then, his oily hands wandered, one under your shirt to softly massage your left nipple and make you whimper, the other under your waistband, inside your panties, to softly rub at your clit. Apparently, he had seen one of the more ''romantic'' videos, because you also felt his lips press soft kisses all over your neck and collarbone. Maybe he was really a magical creature, since the way he played with your admittedly very single body wiped all coherent thought from your mind. He kept rubbing and rubbing your clit until you came with a very embarrassing, very high-pitched moan.

''Don't worry master, Dabi will make you feel even better''. Before you could really grasp what he meant, something warm, hard and big was slowly pressed into your now soaked pussy. An even bigger, even more pathetic whimper left your lips. At your very audible reaction to his actions your ''house-elf'' stilled inside you once he bottomed out and laid his chin on your shoulder, looking at you with the widest eyes you ever saw on him. ''Is Master in pain?''.

You shook your head, bit down on your lip, and realized that you desperately needed him to pound you against the kitchen counter. ''I'm…I'm fine, please just move''. The desperation was very audible in your voice and the look of concern disappeared from Dabi's face. Instead, he licked your ear and whispered:'' Only if you Master admits that master belongs to Dabi''.

''W…what?!''

''Say it or Dabi will burn the next man that tries to sneak into master's home with a package.''

''O..ok, whatever. Master belongs to Dabi''.

The reaction where a dark chuckle and a kiss to your ear before he pulled out of you completely to thrust back in. When you didn't protest and your moans only grew in volume, his hands wandered and he started to squeeze each breast with a very large and warm hand. For the second time that night you wondered whether he actually was magical, since this felt like a very ''magical'' experience. Definitely fantastic with the way the various piercings battered into your g-spot and your clit, making you moan and whine just as loud as the women in your ''massage videos''. When Dabi saw your head fall back on his shoulder and your tongue roll out, he decided to make sure that everyone could see you were his and bit down on your neck, hard. You yowled out in pain but he compensated for it by rubbing your clit and thrusting so hard that you came on his cock half a minute later. The sensation of your walls squeezing him tightly and your cute whines also pushed him over the edge and you could feel his warm seed trickle out of you once he slowly retreated.

The house-human picked you up and held you bridal style in his arms before you could collapse. You still groaned softly from the overstimulation and he carried you to your very small shared bed. After carefully tucking you into bed and pulling you into his naked chest, he softly pushed your hair out of your face and gave you a number of soft kisses all over you face, on your nose, cheeks and mouth.

Before you managed to fall asleep, completely exhausted, you could hear him whisper into your hair after kissing your head:

''Now Master is Dabi's mate. I love you master, but if I ever see another man at the door I will turn him into a pile of ash''.

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi smut #mha smut #mha crack #dabi crack #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #mha yandere #yandere mha #dubcon #dub-con #tw dubcon

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steviespanties · 3 years

Text

Special Treats For Good Cat Boys on AO3 for full tags. 2.6k, Rated E. Unapologetic smutty fluff with a chubby catboy!Steve in panties, pregnancy kink (without mpreg) and a very successful Valentine’s Day date night~ Fitting for the @harringroveheart-on prompts Lingerie, Champagne and Date Night and a belated b-day present for @rvspberryjvm 😊💗💗

It’s the second week of snow coming down on the city, covering houses and streets in sheets of white over and over again until all sound is muffled when Steve walks outside. Even with his sharp hearing, face wrapped in his favorite scarf, he has to strain his ears to not get surprised by people coming around corners.

Icy wind bites into his cheeks and once again he’s grateful for the incredibly fluffy knit hat Robin sent him for Christmas. It’s got holes for his ears to poke out in perfectly placed spots- something Billy sneakily helped figure out for her, she’d admitted on the phone.

“Good thing I convinced you to buy the more expensive winter coat, huh?” Next to him, wrapped in said coat, a blood red scarf, his hat and mittens, Billy looks a lot less grumpy when he doesn’t have to complain about freezing his ass off. Steve snickers at the glare thrown in his direction.

“How could I’ve known that winter in Michigan is even worse than Indiana?”

Steve laughs. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe someone tried to warn you in advance and you turned deaf all of a sudden?” He gets an adorable pout in response that Billy will deny up and down ever showing. He wants to reach out and kiss the corner of Billy’s pouty lips till he can’t help but react with a grin.

Bags full of groceries swing between them as they bicker back and forth. At a street crossing Billy reaches out and carefully brushes snow off Steve’s ear. He smiles back in thanks.

Steve’s ears have become extra fluffy this winter, with a thick undercoat that keeps the snow from melting and seeping into his skin. It’s like his body knew it had to prepare for the more serious cold. Billy can’t keep his hands from petting the new softness of Steve’s fur, taking every opportunity to brush his equally floofed up tail and give him head scratches. Steve’s started to feel very spoiled lately.

They arrive home to a warm apartment and close the door with relieved groans behind them, both glad to have escaped the cold. As they peel off their many layers of clothes, Steve sneaks a glance at Billy. He looks so beautiful when he’s flushed, his tan faded, but his freckles even more visible due to the winter sun. It’s not like Billy isn’t aware that he’s beautiful. Despite getting a bit soft around the middle, he’s still proud of maintaining his muscles. Gives himself finger guns and winks at the mirror when he’s all primped. But he’s also pretty. Long lashes and soft lips, a shimmery fuzz of golden hair on his body that Steve constantly wants to rub himself against. In the dark grey henley he reveals under his coat, he looks effortlessly stunning.

Of course, he catches Steve staring and throws him a smug grin.

“Ready for some food?” Steve nods and grabs his share of grocery bags to follow Billy into the kitchen.

“Starving,” he says. As they unpack, their limited counter space soon overflows with the clutter of their united assembly of their dinner: A spread of baguette slices with cream cheese, topped with caviar or smoked salmon. Cucumber salad, dark grapes and strawberries. Sliced-open croissants stuffed with bacon and scrambled eggs. Ice cream waiting in the freezer. And, of course, two bottles of champagne, already cooled in the fridge and now fizzing enchantingly in two glasses. Steve’s tail swishes excitedly at the mouth-watering smells and it takes a lot of self control not to sneak a bite. Still, Billy seems to have a sixth sense for Steve getting too riled up, because soon enough he bumps their shoulders together. “Why don’t you go ahead and get settled. Put on some music for us while I clean up.”

Steve bumps right back into him. Enjoys the way Billy barely even moves, unbothered and rooted firmly in place. “That sounds good. Thanks.” He can’t resist placing at least a quick kiss to Billy’s shoulder. This close, he can catch a good whiff of Billy’s scent, warm and a little woody because of his perfume. Billy playfully swats at him, which Steve evades in a fluid motion and a with laugh before he slips into the living room.

They’ve spent all afternoon working on a blanket fort that looks even more cozy and inviting than when they left to go grocery shopping. All the lights in the room are covered in red cloth, bathing the place in muted, warm light. Where their sofa usually stands, they’ve turned the entire thing around, thrown a futon in front and surrounded it with pillows and cushions. The cushy interior is flanked by chairs they’ve thrown a massive white sheet on top on, which trails over the back of the sofa and is illuminated by fairy lights on the inside. The mountain of blankets Steve insisted on adding might be a bit overkill, but his stomach gets all fluttery with elation when he looks at it. Like they’ve built their own little nest that calls for him to curl up between soft blankets where he can wait for Billy to join him.

So he hastily selects something sappy to softly play in the background: A REO Speedwagon album that Billy would never admit to liking, but that he has also never protested listening to when Steve's put it on or insisted on turning off either. Steve slips out of his pants, places them behind a cushion where he’s also snuck a bottle of lube and then quickly dives under a blanket when he hears Billy’s approaching footsteps.

“Hey there, kitty cat.” Billy comes into view holding a whole tray with their food, cleverly arranged so he can carry everything in one trip while an ice bucket with their champagne bottles dangles on his arm.

“Here, let me get that.” Steve leans up, careful not to let the blanket slip to reveal his surprise. He takes the tray off Billy’s hands and carefully lowers it to the ground. No snacks directly in the blanket fort if they want to sleep in here tonight. Billy huffs as he puts the bucket down. Lifts his head to make eye contact with Steve, just long enough to notice the mischievous glint in his eyes- and then he leaps forward with a whoop.

Steve yelps at a sudden armful of heavy, cackling boyfriend on top of him. Billy's happiness is infectious and he quickly feels himself join in on the laughter. It's Billy's turn to kiss him, just a lightning-fast peck on the lips that makes Steve wish he'd linger just a bit longer.

They share their first glasses of champagne that tingles on Steve’s sensitive tongue, making him chase its lightness into Billy’s slick mouth. There’s the explosion of briny, salty caviar and mild cream cheese in Steve’s mouth, more sips of champagne followed by cool, smoked salmon. The sensation of the tips of Billy’s fingers against his lips when he feeds him a bite. Holding a strawberry against Billy's lips in turn, he's enthralled by watching sharp teeth pierce the red flesh. Each sip of champagne slips down his throat easily, a perfect, decadent balance to all the different flavors that have danced over his tongue- none quite as addictive as the taste of Billy, though.

And suddenly, their tray is shoved to the side. Shirts are thrown off and Billy’s pants shoved down. The second champagne bottle is halfway empty and Steve’s belly is pleasantly full and warm in satisfaction, making him wriggle in satisfaction. Next to him, Billy inches closer. Crowds into his space until Steve leans back into soft pillows, ears standing up at attention. There’s a different kind of hunger in his eyes, now.

“I got a surprise for you,” he confesses in a hushed voice and slips the blanket down to reveal his present.

“Is that for me?” Billy’s words are smooth whiskey. Sweet and sharp and running over Steve’s body in an intoxicating caress that makes him squirm in place and his tail swish in gleeful anticipation. Billy’s hands close around his soft hips and tug him closer. Thumbs dig into the recently added softness of Steve’s tummy, all plumped up for the winter. He really feels like a spoiled and pampered housecat now, all drunk on treats and alcohol and skin contact.

Billy’s eyes are dark with want when his gaze catches on soft pink lace panties that finally show in all their glory when he fully slips the blanket off.

“You take such good care of me,” Steve says quietly. He wraps his arms around Billy to pull him in and feels a thrill run through him when Billy’s erection brushes against his leg. Clearly, the surprise is a success. “I figured this would be a nice gift.” A tender kiss to his neck.

With a teasing smirk, Billy looks down at the panties. “Oh, I’m very happy.” He snaps the waistband against Steve’s side, making a shocked mew slip out at the sting and his dick respond with a twitch. “But don’t pretend you’re being all altruistic here, babe.” A finger runs over the rapidly hardening outline of his dick and comes to rest right at the head. He pushes down, enough to give a tiny drop of pressure that makes Steve writhe in place, unable to open his mouth and ask for more. There’s just Billy’s warm hand on his hip and that unrelenting point of not-enough-contact. Steve moans.

“Ah, so- so what, not like we can’t both enjoy me dressing up for you!” For a moment, the pressure lets up.

An agreeable hum. “True. You sure enjoy being my pretty boy, though, huh?” And the pressure is back again, just at the sensitive underside of the head of Steve’s dick. That place is like a switch where he’s quickly set on fire just by Billy’s fingers and knowing eyes drinking him up. A small wet spot starts to form where a splash of precome gets trapped between his dick and the fabric of his panties.

“Yeah,” Steve admits as he rolls his hips up. Seeks the pressure and attention as another drop of precome pushes out. “Would enjoy it even more if you fucked me.” That gets him a small laugh.

“Someone’s been getting too spoiled.�� Billy sounds positively delighted at Steve’s whining. He can’t help it! He’s spent most of the day opening himself up as sneakily as possible whenever he could get away with it, has made himself drip with lube until his hole has felt open and tender for way too long. Especially now, with Billy hovering above him, he feels himself want a reward for putting in all this extra preparation. He blindly gropes for the lube. Smacks Billy’s hand off his dick and the bottle into his palm and then pulls the fabric of his panties to the side to reveal his twitching, loose hole.

The frown he throws at Billy’s wide-eyed expression might be more of a pout than an intimidating glare. At least there's no protest from Billy, just a determined set to his jaw as he slicks up his fingers in a practiced motion. He shifts from confusion to palpable excitement when first one, then two fingers sink inside Steve with almost no resistance.

“Oh baby,” he croons and leans even further into Steve’s space. Kisses him slow and deep as he presses his fingers in and out in a pleasant drag that finally comes close to what Steve’s been craving all day. He grabs Billy’s arms and luxuriates in the indulgent slide of their tongues against each other and the sting of Billy’s teeth at his lip. He undulates his hips to meet Billy’s movement inside him, chasing the elusive need for more.

When they separate to breathe, he groans a desperate “Come on, I’m ready” into Billy’s ear. No matter how much of a hardass Billy likes to think he is, the strung-out tone of Steve’s voice never fails to give him a palpable full-body shudder that Steve triumphantly notices.

“Fuck, fine.” Billy looks flushed, all gold and pink and glowing in the soft light surrounding them.

The panties are stretched taut over Steve’s dick. Divine, almost too much pressure that makes him squirm as he watches Billy slick himself up. Being trapped drives him a little crazy and makes it impossible to fully hold still, even as Billy clearly tries to go slow while he savoring the sight of Steve all laid out in front of him. He doesn’t want to wait anymore till Billy finally decides they’re ready and shoves his hips down. Pops the thick cockhead inside and makes them both moan at the way Steve hole flutters around it.

“You’re so goddamn hungry for my cock, huh?” Billy thrusts deeper, clearly losing composure. “Pretty princess gagging to be filled up.” Steve helplessly moans as heat pools at the base of his spine and in his belly. He desperately meets Billy’s hips and lets out a long, drawn-out whine. “Bet you can’t wait to get pumped full to carry a whole litter of kittens for me.”

It’s like Billy has found the string he needed to tug on to open the floodgates to fill Steve with an overwhelming, fierce need. To open himself up even more for Billy to claim him inside and out, deeper even than Billy’s cock thrusting into him where it drags at his insides. “Billy,” he sobs, barely coherent, and clings to his back. Digs his fingers into skin and feels strong back muscles shift underneath his hands.

A rising pressure of something primal, inexplicable pulses through him. He drinks in the sensations- of Billy’s body heat and sweat-slick skin rubbing against Steve’s. Billy’s scent that makes Steve salivate for a taste of him. His hair falls down in soft, wavy strands that frame his face and tickle Steve's skin gently. A hand lands on his soft belly, above his trapped dick steadily pulsing hot precome into tight fabric. Billy's claiming where he’s warm and soft and still desperate for more of his touch.

“Or maybe,” Billy breathes against his ear, makes his breath ghost over the sensitive fur. His hand presses down a little harder. “Maybe you’re already carrying.”

He can’t breathe. He’s blinded by the fireworks going off behind his eyelids, unable to keep them open any longer.

There’s just Billy. Inside and out. And the thought of Steve's belly, carrying a small piece of both of them.

It’s too much. He comes, orgasm rolling over him relentlessly. He cries. Scratches at Billy’s back and pushes himself into Billy’s hand, consumed by his cock spreading him wide open, lost in the thought of more. His panties are filled with pulse after pulse of warm, sticky come, trapped mess turning into a feedback loop of shivery, delightful aftershocks.

There’s the most feather-light kisses on his eyelids. Billy’s thrusts slow to an intense, shuddering grind as he empties himself deep into Steve, all satisfied moans and grunts. Finally, there’s air in Steve's lungs again. He fills his nose with deep inhales of their satisfied scents all mixed together.

They rest. Clean up a little. Put on The Breakfast Club while they wrap around each other as they trade kisses and sips of leftover Champagne. Steve’s tail is curled around the arm Billy has thrown over his hips and he purrs in sleepy contentment while his ears are being pet. “You’re gonna be such a good parent” Billy teases at some point and earns himself a light smack to the shoulder that makes him hiss in mock-hurt. Steve places a kiss where he hit to ease the light sting anyways.

#harringrove #harringrove heart-on #harringrove fic #lingerie #bottom steve #catboy!steve #pregnancy kink #(without mpreg)

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thelemmerpie · 3 years

Text

You look at your watch, and the same question since the beginning of the school year crosses your mind.

Why having classes on saturday morning?

Everyone is tired, except the teacher. Everyone will have to work this weekend. Students never have a vacation, only stolen time paid from sleepless nights.

Whatever. Since you know Mandy, your saturdays to you two are as free as possible and almost nothing prevents you from seeing each other. Every week, you end up in your favorite italian restaurant for a dinner, often accompanied by a night of pleasure in your flat, or hers. Even if it's still impossible for you to live with each other, spending the weekends together is not uncommon. So much that she has clothes and toilet stuff in your appartment, and vice versa.

You thought about her face floating above a table, lit by candles. It perfumes your spirit and you quickly forget the courses. Gracious, her smile revealing so cute dimples, her long and willowy hair tumbling down like a waterfall made of the most sleeked mirror on her oppulent chest, more or less revealed according to her mood...You're already on a cloud only by thinking about her. The day is beautiful, your eyes closes while you're smiling, and nothing can lift you out of your contemplation.

-Mr. Johnson seems already on weekend. Unless he's still in dreamland?

Almost nothing. The comment is as striking as a bucket of iced water. You turn your head to the old vulture who serves as a teacher. The bun as tight as her thin pinched lips, she looks at you with eyes ready to throw lightning. You stutt.

-Sorry mam'. Tiredness.

-Think about sleeping at night, young man.

As if you could afford it...This first year of master's degree in plastic arts, sculpture course, is more exhausting than expected.You wish you could rest your head every night on Mandy, which is impossible. Since she obtained a bachelor's degree and works on the other side of the city, she had to take a flat. You, you stayed on the campus. Life is good inside it, but not as much as with her.

The rest of the class is deadly boring, but you strive to make as many notes as you can. Finally, after what seems like hours, the old harpy frees you by asking you to return a project for the next time.

You turn on your phone and the notifications appears. Mandy sent you a text. You open it right away, hoping for a soft message to wait until tonight.

"I'm sorry, I have to cancel dinner tonight"

A fleeting moment passes, then an immense disappointment falls like a hawk on his prey (and on your heart. And on your libido). This is not the first time that one of you cancels at the last moment, but it's always unpleasant. Nevertheless, you decide to not hold it against her, even if it saddens you.

"Too bad :'( All you alright? I miss you so much ".

The answer doesn't take long to arrive.

"Yes, I'm fine, but I really cannot go out yet."

She doesn't give you more details, which worries you a bit. Usually, you immediately tell to the other the reasons for the cancellation. You are puzzled, but you trust her and don't insist.

"If you need anything, I can go to your house tonight. Shop, or anything else. What about pizzas and a movie on the TV ?"

"Yes ! That would be wonderful, and much better ! If I can't go out right now, I can at least let you in ~~ I'm sending you a list."

It's autumn, but the heat persists and the blue sky makes you want a sandwich. You would like her to be there, by your side, lying in the still soft green grass, but she never liked the heat for a simple reason : finding suitable clothes to go out in such heat is almost impossible. Not because of being overweight, no. At least, not all over her body. It's a very local overweight: a macromastia.

As a teenager, her chest was already growing at an impossible rate. At 17, she was competing with the most buxom models you'd ever seen. Since then, her chest continues to grow steadily. Every four months, she is forced to buy new bras. Whole boxes of old underwear hang around her house.

She learned to do with it. As soon as she's back home, she unravels the torture instrument to free her chest. If it excited you at first, it fast becomed as common as taking off your shoes. Ignoring her chest is clearly impossible, especially when it jumps in all directions. But the moments you prefer are those quite ones where you are together to the couch, watching TV while behaving and more if you're in the mood. These moments are still too rare. You hope this will change one day. In such a big city, your respective obligations separates you and if you get closer, it would be your obligations that would be too far from you.

You sigh. In just over a year, you'll be able to live together. Her father has promised you a job in his molding company, and he already considers you two as married. Maybe you'll even be able to take up his business later. A clear path, a good job, a dream girlfriend, and a lovely family in law. It's well worth it to endure on saturday mornings with the vulture and work like a madman.

You finish your sandwich when your phone vibrates again. It's Mandy. A short list is displayed. She doesn't need much : food, some medicine...And new bras.

There, you frown.

She bought some two weeks ago, and they were already costing a fortune, in addition to being horribly uncomfortable. Having a big chest is considered as chance, but the bad sides can be counted easily : besides the expensive and inconvenient underwears, you can cite the look of others and the lustful solicitations from complete strangers when you go out in the street.

And yet, you've never seen her complain. No back pain, a body of foolproof flexibility, and an amused satisfaction when she surprises the eyes of others dive into her deep cleavage. She likes to seduce as well, but has always looked for someone who would consider her as something much than a toy for a titfuck. Her breasts didn't leave you indifferent, but you quickly became interested about her to the point that even naked, you can discuss with her as when she wears a triple layer of thick clothes, in autumn and winter, the only seasons where she can go out without problems. Her two favorite seasons have quickly become yours as she feels comfortable.

And yet, what a pair !

You could carve it from memory on pink marble, with all the details that her body offers. Round, no, a little oval. Glossy, smooth, plumped in her clothes, looking like a silicon bag that other women implant themselves. Except that she's natural. It's so unlikely that many people find it hard to believe, at the point that "fake boobs" yeled loudly always been an insult. Harassment, she knows that. But she has always been proud of her body, and you have always been proud of her. People talk, you live your love, that's enough for you two.

You keep thinking about your sculpture. Her tits would be nothing without gravity, of course. A challenge, to account for a chest so beautiful, so full, but that falls so little. Languid into the lustiness of her own pleasure, as she is after love. She's like her chest: proud, but so smoochy when she loves...

And the nipples, of course ! Small, discreet, as cute and innocent as infants. Two small chicks hatched by two aerolas, soft hen mums. Everytime, you vacillate between kissing them softly or sucking them. Everything in her is so perfect that to soil her would be a crime, if she wern't agree to welcome you near her and into her.

Nevertheless. New bras just two weeks after buying other is strange. Have they broke ? With a chest like hers, nothing surprises you anymore.Those before were worse than grandmother's bras. Thick sackcloths, oversized sports bras, with braces stretching out day after day, until her breasts overflowed and compressed her too much. A sexy photo later, you left to buy others. Shopping with her is always a pleasure, even if shops providing sizes at her convenience are increasingly rare.

You call her, and her voice soon rings in your ears.

-Hello, Danny ?

-Mandy, sweetie, I got your list. Had you not...already bought new bras recently?

It still gets you to be embarrassed to talk about her breasts, sometimes, and you must carefully prepare your words in order to not blush. You prefer to look at them and touch them, in silence, without any other noise than her pleasure moans.

-Sorryyyyyyyy ~~ . But I can't do otherwise. I can't go out with the old ones, it's getting worse and worse.

-Better and better, you mean ?

-For you, yes.

-And for you too. I know you love your breasts.

-Stop, she said, laughing. Or I could cancel the pizza tonight.

-You wouldn't dare !

The indignation in your voice is falsely exaggerated, which makes her laugh once again.

-If the handsome and brave knight carries out his mission and goes shopping, maybe the princess will send him a foretaste of what awaits him...

-An antipasti before the pizza, hm? I'll be curious to see what you're making...

-First, shop. I will prepare everything for tonight.

You're about to say goodbye to her, when a genius idea comes to you.

- What if I buy candles?

- What for?

- You know...candlelit dinner?

- For delivery pizzas ? No thanks. And then, I'm lazy to do the dishes. They have grown so much that I start having back pain...

-Really? In this case, prepare your oils for a long and good massage.

You hear hear murmuring with satisfaction.

-Very well, brave knight. If you manage to kill the hunchbacked dragon, the princess will offer you more than an antipasti.

-It's a great honor you give me, my lady.

-Come on, hang up. The shop will not make it himself.

- See ya, sweetie.

-See ya, cutie.

You hang up, a smile on your lips. Never in your life had you had such spars with anyone before. Each of her words brings you joy. Hurry the day you move in with her : your happiness will be complete.

But now, groceries. Your phone is vibrating again. It's a text sent by Mandy.

"I called Georgina this morning, you just have to take the package and pay. It's a huge lucky break, she has just renewed her supplies and agreed to take back those of two weeks ago. I will repay you".

The advantage of being a loyal and regular customer for out-of-the-ordinary clothing is that the ladies around the globe forms a small private club where they can discuss and exchange advice and services. The shop she usually goes to is far away, but it's a warm one and the woman who holds it is super great. Georgina, the manager, is a little old woman as wrinkled as an apple and had the same chest problems. She quickly decided to help women like her. If the bras remaines expensive, she gladly takes over the old ones to retouch them. She's even made customized tailor-made. But as long as Mandy's breasts will continue to grow at a breakneck pace, it will be useless and she clearly told you that : "I should take new measurements immediately after my work is done. I'd never seen that ! Go on like this, my little one, and congratulations, young man ! "

The shop bell tolls when you enter into it. Some times later, Georgina comes out of the back shop and greets you, delighted as you go forward the sale desk.

-Ah, Daniel ! I received Mandy's message. This girl beats all records, I made a new storpile just for her ! Only two weeks, and you'd think she took six months all at once !

-Thank you, Georgina, this is the first time that happens ...

-Tell me about it ! I've never seen that ! Fortunately, I have a good contact in England. Tell her to slow down, she never listened to me! It's not like you're not already happy with what she have, huh?

You try to show a neutral face, as every time Georgina talks about your relationship. Some grandmothers are discreet, but the old seamstress would be able to collapse buildings just by talking. Like every time, you fail and can only display a shy smile.

- I'll tell him, thanks. How much do I owe you?

The old woman sweeps the air with her hand and rejects the imaginary money.

-Nothing ! We'll see that when she returns the others. Knowing her, she didn't even touch it. She made her measurements, but I put her several sizes just in case. She will only have to bring me back as soon as possible.

-Thank you so much for your generosity. Without you, we don't know what she would do.

-Bah, we have to stick together! It was even worse when I was young.. Corsets that choked you even more than the things I'm selling today ! I say, I can't wait the day we can go out without it, half naked, like you men, without being attacked at every street corner! It's not Mandy that would bother ! Beautiful melons as big and as firm as the pectorals of my late husband !

You agree, but you don't know what to say. You may have an empty look, because Georgina allows you to leave.

-Ah, you men ! Go find your beauty and make us beautiful children, it will make my pleasure !

-Yes Ma’am. Thank you Ma’am.

You leave the shop, a second opaque plastic bag in your hands. Even through it, you can feel the fabric of the cup. The more Mandy's breasts grow, the less they seems thick, padded, comfortable. As for the shoulder's straps, they must be tight to cut off her skin. You can't wait the day she'll be able to wear custom made bras for her ease. You send her a text.

"I have groceries and bras, Georgina didn't charge me and she added several sizes just in case."

The answer is quick to arrive.

"Really ? Wonderful ! I'm gonna jump on her neck when I see her. How long before you get in?"

"An hour, I just went out"

"Too looooong..."

You strat to write, but another one appears.

"Here's a little something that will make you want to come even more faster..."

A few seconds later, your reward appears on your screen. It's been a while since you're used to her chest, but your mouth is opening and it takes little to make you drool.

She never sent photos of her completely naked, preferring provocation in exciting clothes. Sometimes she sends you her pretty face. Sometimes full body in a simple, wise, accompanied by her long hair that always makes you fall in love with her when you gaze at them. This time, they are tied over her head, revealing her neck, shoulders and thin arms. She seems to come out of the shower, a few drops still bead of her soft skin A new pair of diving breasts, with monstrous cleavage, overflowing beyond a towel about to explode.

You totally understand the need for new bras. At sight of the nose, only the widest will fit.

And sh's only 21 years old. And she has not finished her growth yet.

In size, yes. Not in cup size.

A new text appears.

"Have you choosed your pizza yet ?"

"I don't know, I'm in a mood for a snack right now. A stuffed sandwich, if you know what I mean ;-)"

“I thought you was in a romantic mood ? Candles of for lightning, not for BDSM, we agrée ?”

"You're impossible, as your jokes"

"No, I'm real. Why don't you touch me, if you don't believe ? I'm still waiting for my brave bra knight ;-) ".

The bus is here. You close your phone, ranks right at the bottom of your pocket so that no one can suspect your activities, and you sit down in a quiet corner.

Something tells you that you will not have time for eating tonight.

__________

Model is MandaDawn, on Patreon and Onlyfans. That photo is clearly not the best, from two or three years ago when she was on tumblr, but I don’t know why, it inspired me with the force of a train. I barely touched her story since her breasts are effectively still growing, for an actual X cup.

#MandaDawn #Story #BreastGrowth #BreastExpansion

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Sugar and Coffee [18]

Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 18.5 OR Chapter 19

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

It’s funny how things come and go in life. The longer you live and the more things you experience, you realize just how fickle living can be. The events that you anticipate the most come and go while the ones you dread linger. The people you expect to stay with you leave — and the people you expect to leave end up staying. Similarly, the internship that you had been so worried and excited for was finally finished. It was sad to say goodbye and to leave the shop behind. You genuinely loved being there, learning and spending your time perfecting your craft. Even bratty Yuna was sad to bid you farewell — the two of you had grown fond of each other over the months, so you sent her a card right when you got home yourself and you heard from Namjoon that she had pinned it on her wall. Luckily, you knew that this goodbye wouldn’t be a permanent one. It was different to other goodbyes you’ve had in the past. Namjoon and Sejeong assured both you and Jungkook a million times that it was only temporary — that they’d be happy to hire you back after your schooling is finished if you so happened to choose to work for them again. And it’s a proposition that still interests you greatly. You’re not sure what Jungkook wants to do — but you know you’d love to return and continue making wedding cakes under their mentorship someday. But for now you had to return on your path. The end of Summer was quickly approaching, and you find yourself coming back to where it started. Well. Sort of. In actuality, you were standing on Jungkook’s parents’ doorstep. Suitcase in hand. Full of hesitance and uncertainty. Fingers kept away from the doorbell. You’re not sure if this is a place that would welcome you again. But Jungkook had insisted. He pressed on, insisting that you should visit his family again, to at least come see him for a few days with the Summer that remained left. He whined about how much he missed you. And you had to admit, you missed him too. So here you were, like a complete idio— “God, okay! I’m throwing out the trash now!” The door opens. The boy freezes. He stares at you with rounded eyes as you stare back at him. He’s dressed in a worn t-shirt and gym shorts, flopping hair sticking out in all directions like he just woke up even though it’s well past noon. One hand is on the handle, the other is holding a black garbage bag. Slowly the corner of your mouth quirks. “Hi.” A stupidly big grin plasters across Jungkook’s face and spreads into his cheeks as his eyes light up with mirth. Jungkook’s voice softens. “When’d you get here?” “Just now.” He drops the garbage and is about to come and hug you, but something shoots out from between his legs to engulf you in a tight embrace instead. “Y/N!” Eunbi’s summer dress flutters in the breeze and you lift her up as best as you can with a smile. Lia follows quickly behind, wearing a big smile and she turns over her shoulder. “Y/N’s here!” “She’s here?” Someone comes stumbling from the kitchen, throwing her kitchen towel aside. Jungkook’s dad comes out from the backyard, having heard the ruckus. “She’s here.” “She’s here!” Eunbi repeats in giggles and your arms widen when Lia joins in greeting you with a hug. Jungkook sighs wistfully, separated from you by his overbearing family members. Yet, all the worries you had about being welcomed or not instantly vanishes. They greet you warmly — Jungkook’s dad asking how you’ve been, how exams and classes and the internship was. You’re bombarded with curious questions and enthusiastic answers, only spared when Jungkook’s mom pulls you to the kitchen where she has a whole countertop of food prepared. She wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, so she made everything she could when she heard you were coming and you can’t find it in your heart to reject her hard efforts. So you consume as much as you can before Eunbi tugs you aside to join her tea party with Lia. You find out their parents have gone for a last-minute trip, so they’ve been staying at their aunt’s and uncle’s, obviously having a blast by the looks of it, especially now with you here. It’s only when Jungkook turns on a Disney movie and makes them sit down to watch that he’s finally able to sneak you away. “Sorry about that.” He shuts the door to his room, sighing at how difficult it was to get a hold of you in his own house. “It’s okay. I love your family.” “That makes one of us,” Jungkook mutters and sulks. “You try spending twenty four hours a day seven days a week with them and see how they can drive you nuts.” “Aww, poor baby. Your family cares about you, how horrible.” Your voice drips of sarcasm and you feign sympathy, reaching over to pat him on the back. Jungkook scoffs but takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you. He leans down enough to accommodate for the height difference and he props his chin on your shoulder. His nose digs into your hair, breathing in. You’re ticklish from his grip. “Jungkook…” “I missed you.” “It’s only been what?” You rest your head on his shoulder, giving into his warmth. “Two weeks?” “Long enough.” “School starts in another week. If I didn’t come, you still would’ve seen me.” “Yeah, but what if I died before then and couldn’t see you ever again?” he whines and it’s hard to resist the small smile tugging at your lips. But you manage to pull away from him and roll your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.” The boy grins and takes a seat on his chair by his old computer desk while you plop down onto the edge of his bed. “So….what have you been up to?” “You act like we haven’t called and texted each other every single day.” “Yeah, but I don’t know what the trip was like up here.” “Fair enough,” you hum. “I guess all that really happened is that I sat next to this really handsome man on the bus here who shared my interests and hobbies. And we had a hot, passionate summer fling and we decided to make this a long-term thing, so we’re getting married. Sorry to say, Jeon, but you’ve lost your chance.” You laugh and his eye twitches. In an instant, you’re being pinned to his mattress with Jungkook hovering above you. His knee wedges between your legs, hands pressed flat next to your head. The dark strands of his hair grazes against your forehead and you sink deeper into his pillows. But even in such a compromising position, you can’t help but muse how cute he looks feigning anger like this. “I’m trying to be nice here, but you’re always testing my patience, brat. You really think I won’t kill you one day?” “You wouldn’t.” You quirk your head to the side, hands grasping at his forearms. Your eyes glimmer with a challenge before they flicker up to the posters lining his wall. “Not with IU watching.” He grins, a small laugh coming from his nose. “Jieun would understand.” You snort and he helps you sit up. “Do your parents know…?” “No. Otherwise, you’d be on the phone with my grandma right now. They’re overbearing enough as it is.” You nod. “They don’t think it’s weird that I’m here?” “No.” Jungkook scoffs. “God, they love you. Isn’t it obvious? They think you’re a ‘good influence’ on me. Better than Taehyung and Jimin are, at least. Those two are just idiots no matter where they go, so my parents are always concerned that all of us will get into fender benders.” He uses air quotes when he says ‘good influence’ and you bat his arm. “I am a good influence on you.” “Uh-huh.” Jungkook eyes you skeptically. “They should see you when you get mad—” “I don’t get mad.” “—and when you start swearing. Or the amount of dirty, dirty things you can say…” “Jungkook,” your whine tapers off when he suddenly lays a hand on your upper thigh. Jungkook’s half-lidded eyes and heavy gaze flickers down to your lips. He starts to lean in, head angling and your breath catches in your throat in eager anticipation. Your eyes flutter shut. But you never feel the velvet texture of Jungkook’s lips against yours. Instead, there’s a loud knock that startles you both to death. Then, the door opens. And the boy, whose lap you were nearly perched on, is already back on his desk chair, whirling around. “Hey, Y/N.” Jungkook’s dad is smiling wide. “What are you guys up to?” “We’re just talking,” his son deadpans. “Is there something you need?” “Nope.” The middle-aged man who uncannily has Jungkook’s eyes leans on the doorframe with arms crossed casually. “Just thought I’d pop by, see what’s going on, let you know your mom thinks you two can bring Lia and Eunbi into town to pick up some groceries….” “Okay. We can do that later.” There’s a terrible, awkward silence as Jungkook’s dad hangs around. It makes the younger frown. “Is there something wrong?” “No.” He shakes his head, slowly starting to turn away before Jungkook dies in modification. But then he stops and looks back with a smile playing at his lips. “You guys should keep the door open though. House policy. Not mine but your mother’s. You know...she doesn’t want any funny business happening.” “Dad.” “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” His hands are lifted up in the air and he laughs it off. The older man pushes the door so it’s wide open and then waltzes away. Jungkook’s sigh is long enough to empty out his lungs and you giggle at their interaction. The walk to town is lovely. The end of Summer keeps the weather from sweltering or being uncomfortable. It’s warm with a brisk wind kissing against your cheeks. You consider just how cozy this town is, small houses and big lawns, white picket fences and scalloped shingle rooftops. The grocery store is modest too and several people greet Jungkook when he enters, asking how he’s been and if you're someone special to him. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone and it’s cute. You never considered Jungkook to be a small town boy, but it’s somehow fitting. “We need to get apples, cucumbers, scallions….” He flips over the list, trying to discern his mom’s chicken scratch as he pushes the shopping cart. “Uh…..that either says potatoes or tomatoes.” “Can we get this?!” Eunbi holds up a box bigger than her body. The doll inside is smiling. Jungkook doesn’t even glance at it. “No.” “Awww.” The four of you walk down the cereal aisle and Jungkook stops for a detour. He picks two to compare and concentrates too hard for such a menial task. “I didn’t know cereal was on our list,” you say while peeking over his shoulder. “I like cereal,” he mumbles. In spite of taking a full minute on deliberating what brand he wants, Jungkook ends up settling for both. He places them into the cart and continues pushing it down the aisle while humming. You keep a watch on Eunbi in the meanwhile to make sure she doesn’t get lost, but soon Lia comes back with something in hand. “Y/N, can we please make this together?” The seven year old has a bright, red box of chewy fudge brownie mix. Automatically, you and Jungkook’s faces twist in abhorrent disgust. “It says we just need...egg, water, and oil!” she reads off of it proudly. “No, we don’t need a box to make brownies,” you coax with a smile. “We can make it fresher. A few more steps and it’ll taste worlds better than the box.” “Really?” “Really.” “Yay!” Eunbi’s loudly cheering in the middle of the grocery store, arms in the air and hopping up and down. “We get brownies!” “What’s even in here?” Jungkook takes the box and flips it around. His eyes narrow in on the tiny letters of the ingredient list. “Sugar, enriched bleached wheat flour? What’s carrageenan? Pft, artificial flavour?” He arrogantly tosses it aside. “We don’t need that. We’re professionals.” You snort. “Uh-huh. A professional who doesn’t even know how to make a moist cake.” “At least I can temper chocolate,” he bites back without skipping a beat — without blinking or taking a breath. When Jungkook sees your shocked expression, he laughs heartily and throws an arm over your shoulder, nuzzling into you. “I’m kidding. Kidding.” You scoff, throw his arm off of you. “No, you aren’t.” “Are you fighting?” Eunbi grabs a hold of your shirt, tugging lightly. “Only because Jungkook is mean,” you tell with an exaggerated pout. It’s his turn to be offended. “You just said my cakes weren’t moist!” You ignore him. “Let’s go, children. We don’t interact with bullies.” Lia and Eunbi giggle, happy to go along with you and leave Jungkook in the dust, scrambling to roll the shopping cart behind you. Eventually, the groceries are paid for and the walk back turns out to be equally enjoyable. Once the four of you arrive back to the house, his parents are out working in the garden, so you and Jungkook put away the groceries together and pull out the necessary ingredients for brownies. “We can probably make two batches.” “I wanna do it with Y/N!” Lia immediately exclaims, jumping to your side. She leaves her younger sister frowning and on the verge of tears. “No, I wanna!” “How about me?” Jungkook stands in the middle of his own kitchen at a complete loss. It causes laughter to bubble from you. “Okay, all three of us can do it together and we can verse Jungkook. How about that?” They nod and Lia tells her cousin that he’s going down, teasing him mercilessly and you indulge them about how you’re better than Jungkook in everything at school — something he adamantly protests about. Soon, all of you get to work. You teach them how to preheat the oven, grease the pans, and watch as the half cup of butter is melted in a saucepan. Lia and Eunbi help you measure out one cup of sugar and they each crack an egg into the butter. Three quarter cups of cocoa are shifted into the mixture along with a half cup of flour, a quarter teaspoon of salt and a quarter teaspoon of baking powder. You show the two girls how to fold the ingredients gently together and you catch them a moment before they’re about to spoon the batter into their mouths. They give stretching smiles and you help them spread it into a pan instead to bake. It’s put in for half an hour, slightly underdone so it’s sweet and still gooey. “It smells wonderful in here,” Jungkook’s mom gasps as she enters, taking off her garden gloves and wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Did you make something special?” “Look auntie!” Eunbi is jumping, hands jittery, on a sugar high. “We made brownies!” “Did you now?” She peers over the counter, brows raising. “My goodness, they look amazing.” “We helped make them with Y/N,” Lia announces, mouth smeared in chocolate. “Did you thank Y/N yet for showing you how to make them?” Both girls instantly whirl around, thanking you with bashful and shy smiles. In the meanwhile, Jungkook’s mom is unable to resist and reaches over for a brownie. She groans at the taste and smacks her lips together. “Don’t eat too much or it’ll ruin your appetite,” she says — much like how Jungkook often reminds you — and ironically bites into her brownie again. The woman turns to you. “These are delicious, dear.” “They weren’t too hard to make.” “You should show me the recipe, I’d love to bake these again.” “I’ve made these before!” Jungkook complains in a higher pitched voice, eating his own brownies when no one takes them out of his pan. But no one pays mind to him. Not his mother or his twirling cousins. “Of course, I can.” You, on the other hand, do pay attention to Jungkook. You grin at him as he glares. And only later when there’s a moment of privacy will he tickle you as revenge for making his entire family love you more than him. It’s then that he finally gets the chance to kiss you too. // Dinner with the Jeon family is as you would expect it to be. Everyone inhales all the food and chit chats with one another. There’s warm banter shared across the dinner table as his parents make him talk about the trip to Tahiti, how the internship was and if he was on his best behaviour. He gives you discreet, defeated looks to show how he’s so done with them and it’s hard to stifle your giggles. Afterwards, you help him do the dishes as his cousins turn on a movie to watch and his parents finish off the brownies you made. Not long after that, everybody begins to retreat to their rooms. “Aw, do we have to go to bed?” “Yes. Don’t you want to help plant the flowers tomorrow?” Jungkook’s mom smooths out her hair. “Only big girls can help and you can only get big if you sleep and get strong.” “Okay.” Lia sulks. “But can I at least say goodnight to Y/N?” “Yes.” The older woman offers a rather maternal smile. “You can.” Lia runs to you down the hall right as you leave the bathroom with your toothbrush in hand, catching you off guard. She hugs you tight. “Goodnight, Y/N!” Eunbi is hot on her sister’s heels and you stumble back when she throws herself at you too. “Night, night, Y/N!” “Goodnight, you two.” “Can we play tomorrow?” You ruffle the five year old’s hair. “Course we can.” She beams and hops back, following her aunt. Her uncle is already inside their room, holding up books. “Who’s ready for story time?” “Me!” Lia runs off and waves to you. At the same time, Jungkook leaves his room to see their retreating forms and scoffs. “Wow, are they not going to wish me a goodnight?” You slap his arm, laughing. “Stop being so jealous all the time. I can’t help that I’m so lovable.” He scoffs and affectionately pokes your forehead with his index finger. “I can’t even argue with that.” The corner of his mouth curls and you grin. Jungkook has that look in his eyes — the one you’ve learnt to recognize. He looks like he wants to kiss you, like he’s about to do it too, but the pair of you are interrupted by someone lingering in the hallway. “Y/N, you’re sleeping in the guest bedroom, right?” His mom looks at you and you nod quickly. “Yes, I am.” “Good.” She relaxes and bobs her head. “Jungkook, you go back to your room now. There’s a long day tomorrow.” He sighs, but doesn’t argue. Jungkook turns right back around into his room and keeps the door slightly open for a second, enough to give you an incredulous look. It makes you smile and mouth ‘goodnight’ to him before he shuts the door. His mom brings you to the guest bedroom, helping you set up for the night and asking if you need extra blankets and pillows. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” “Yes, it is. Thank you, Mrs. Jeon.” “If you’re ever cold, feel free to grab anything from the closet.” When you nod, she gets to the door. Jungkook’s mom is about to turn off the light, but lingers. She twists around to share a smile with you. “Thank you for coming, Y/N. I’m glad to see you again.” “No, thank you.” You’re caught off guard by her words of gratitude. “Honestly, I didn’t want to be such a bother.” “You aren’t. Trust me.” She laughs, a tinkling sound emitting from her chest. “I’ve always wanted a daughter like you. Jungkook is two more handfuls than I can handle sometimes, especially when he was young.” The older woman shakes his head with a fond expression. “He might not look like it but he’s still very much a child. I worry about him being gone so far for so long out of the entire year. So, I’m glad there’s someone like you looking out for him.” You’re touched by her sincerity, but you can’t help but feel like she’s gotten it wrong. You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the other. “Mrs. Jeon—” “You can call me auntie, if you’d like.” You nod timidly. “Jungkook actually looks out for me a lot more than I do for him. He really helped me through a lot of tough times, so really, I should be the one thanking him….” She smiles, the wrinkles around her eyes creasing. “Then I’m even more grateful that Jungkook’s not hopeless. It’s good that the two of you have one another.” Part of you wants to tell her that you’re unequivocally in love with her son. But by the twinkle in her eye, you get a sense that she already knows the true nature between you and Jungkook. You don’t need to say it aloud or make any announcements. Her smile becomes more tender in the small silence and then she finally bids you a goodnight, flicking off the lights in the room. You end up laying there for a while. You receive Jungkook’s text telling you this is so dumb and you laugh. The bright lights of your phone eventually burns your eyes too much, so you throw it aside, opting to stare at the ceiling and listen to his house. You can hear doors closing, footsteps, the flicker of the hallway light turning off and more doors closing. Silence settles in for a good ten minutes, but before you can completely drift off to sleep, your door cracks open. A familiar boy sneaks into your room with a soft sigh. He shuts the door silently and nimbly avoids all the creaks in the floorboards, knowing where each of them are after growing up and spending his childhood in these four walls. “You’re not supposed to be here.” You sit up, covers pooling around your waist. His feet slide and the mattress dips underneath his weight. “And I care because…?” You scoff. “Rebellious, aren’t you, Jeon?” “You don’t even know the start of it.” He grins. “I just want to lay with you for a while. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” “But your parents don’t know that. What happens if they catch you here?” you ask while peeling back the covers anyhow, happily inviting him in. “Nothing will happen. It’s okay.” “Yeah, but they might hate me...for tainting their son.” “Impossible.” Jungkook settles in and pulls the covers up to keep you warm. You cuddle yourself into him and he props his chin on top of your head. “And they don’t care about that. They just don’t want any Jeon grandkids, or at least not until we graduate.” “Psh. You’re going to have to prove yourself before you implant anything in my uterus, Jeon.” His nose wrinkles at your euphemism, but then he pokes your side, making you squirm. “Prove myself? Haven’t I already?” “Just cause I let you kiss me a few times doesn’t mean I have plans to make this long-term,” you tease and this time he’s the one scoffing. Jungkook rolls on top of you, pinning you underneath him. The soft glow of the lamp posts outside on the suburban street comes through the window and when your eyes adjust to the darkness, you’re able to discern a few of his features — especially that sulking expression of his. Jungkook’s such a baby sometimes. Or at least he likes to be babied by you. Yoongi, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin would shit themselves if they saw him now. But it makes you happy to be the only one who can see this endearing side of him. “What more do you want to put me through, hmm?” You cock your head to the side. “Who knows, you might just get bored of me in a few weeks, Jeon. Better not to jump the gun.” “I don’t think so. What do you take me for? Someone with that low of an attention span?” “Well…” You draw out the syllable. “Last I checked, you still don’t know how to make flowers with gum paste.” His tongue clicks in annoyance and he starts to tickle you again at your weakest parts. You squirm underneath him, giggling as your legs kick to no avail. It makes the bed squeak, the headboard hitting against the wall and Jungkook laughs and quickly lets up. He covers your mouth with his palm. “Shush! You’re going to wake them up.” You peel off his hand, harshly whispering, “You started it.” Jungkook’s smile is big enough to make his cheeks hurt. He missed you — your company, warmth, the teasing banter. It’s hard to fathom that his best friend is actually here with him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Jungkook leans down, locking his lips against yours. Your soft mouths slots against each other like it’s the way it always should have been and he relishes in the groan you release. It’s a gentle kiss, one that merely tests the waters and then he pulls away. You blink up at him, breath leaving through your parted lips that now taste like his vanilla chapstick. “No funny business, remember?” “I know.” Jungkook gets off of you, resuming his place by your side. “But I wasn’t planning any ‘funny business’. Where has your mind gone too?” Your cheeks heat. “I’m just saying.” He chuckles softly, arm slung across your waist. You’re pulled close as he nestles in. It’s easy to relax and your hand lifts to wrap around his back. The both of you hold each other for a while in the comfortable darkness underneath the cozy covers. You’re lulled in his company. “Jungkook.” “Hmm?” “You can’t fall asleep here.” “I know,” he mumbles. But contrary to Jungkook’s words, he does fall asleep with you — sharing the same bed like those nights in Tahiti. Only in the morning, when dawn breaks and the morning light comes through the glass windows are you both naturally shaken awake. It’s then that Jungkook scratches his bed hair flopping in all directions, eyes swollen as he stumbles back to his own bedroom. And you drift back to sleep with a softened smile on your face.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #bts reader insert #jungkook reader insert #btsboulangerie #LET'S GO Y'ALL

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anthonyjlockwood · 3 years

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Friend 👀👀 5 or 7 (definitely with lukebobby) on your prompt list!!!

Hey Lilly! I chose prompt 5 (Reggie is banned from the store Bobby works in, for Reasons, so he asks Luke to flirt with him so he’ll let him back in.)

read it on ao3 here!

“How exactly does someone get banned from the grocery store?”

“I don’t know, Alex!” Reggie wailed. He plopped down onto the couch in Alex and Willie’s shared apartment with dramatic flair.

Alex, who’d been sitting on the middle cushion with his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder, shoved him aside. “Get up, you’re being dramatic.”

“The cashier was just so attractive,” Reggie whined. “I had to do something cool, ‘cause I wanted to ask for her number, so I took a Sharpie and wrote ‘I think you’re dairy cute’ on a carton of chocolate milk, so she’d see it when I went to check out! I didn’t think I’d get caught, and be thrown out of the store for vandalism!”

“You really thought that would work?” Alex asked.

“Hey, Alex. I think you’re ‘dairy cute,” Willie smirked, earning an eye roll from his boyfriend.

“Well, Reggie… I think it was a thoughtful gesture,” Julie called from the kitchen, “but why couldn’t you have just written your number on a piece of paper like everybody else?”

“Because! Go big or go home, Julie!” Reggie insisted.

“So, how are you gonna get Miss Dairy Cute’s number now?” Luke wondered, from deep in the refrigerator. He pulled out a package of string cheese and tossed it across the room, where Willie caught it from the sofa.

“I don’t know,” Reggie whined. “This is so unfair! It should be illegal to ban someone from a grocery store, anyway-- how am I supposed to buy food?”

“I’m sure you won’t go hungry,” Alex deadpanned. “There are like, six other grocery stores within driving distance.”

“But Cute Girl works at that grocery store!” Reggie huffed. “This sucks. And that manager probably thought he was sooo cool, and... responsible, kicking me out like that.”

“I have an idea!” Willie perked up. “Why don’t you get someone who’s not banned to go give your number to Miss Dairy Cute for you?”

Reggie wrinkled his nose. “Nah, I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s gotta see me, dude. I have to sweep her off her feet!”

“Well what other options do you have?” Alex asked. “Get someone to flirt with the ‘cool’, ‘responsible’ store manager and convince him to let you back in?”

Reggie’s eyes widened. He slapped Alex’s chest with the back of his hand energetically. “Dude, you’re a genius!”

“Wait, I was joking!” Alex screeched. “That’s a terrible idea!”

“The worst,” Luke agreed, laughing. “You gonna beg someone to be your wingman, Reg?”

“What’s that, folks?” Reggie put a hand to his ear and leaned forward theatrically. “Do we have a volunteer?”

“No!” Luke wrinkled his nose. “I don’t wanna go make an ass of myself at the grocery store,” he complained. “We’re supposed to be having a movie marathon tonight! Can’t you get someone to flirt with Mr. Responsibility tomorrow?”

“Oh no… I forgot to buy popcorn!” Reggie exclaimed, with exaggerated alarm. “We need popcorn tonight if we’re gonna have movie night. What a shame. Too bad I’m… banned from the grocery store.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Luke meaningfully.

“God, you’re annoying,” Luke complained.

"Off you go,” Reggie shooed him away.

“Ugh, fine,” Luke hefted himself up off the couch and grabbed his keys off the kitchen island. “Anyone wanna come?”

“Nope!”

“No, thanks!”

“I’m good right here!”

Luke groaned. “You guys are the worst. Don’t start the movie without me!”

When Luke entered the grocery store, the first thing he noticed was an old lady, angrily waving her cane at a guy in a vest. “This is unacceptable!” she was saying. “I’ve been coming to this grocery store for fifty four years!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the guy in the vest said, “but this coupon expired in 2004. We can’t accept it.” He turned away from her, towards Luke, and disguised his eye roll by pretending to scratch his temple. Luke saw the gesture and grinned.

This must be Mr. Responsibility, then. He did look pretty full of himself, Luke observed. His nametag was fastened securely to his blue vest-- Luke couldn’t read the name from this far away, but he did see that the guy had a set of keys, hanging from a lanyard around his neck. He stood with authority, but the fact that he looked about Luke’s age, and the fact that his professional facade was slipping so easily, made Luke feel like the whole “stern manager” shtick was just an act.

Luke picked up one of the magazines on the rack by the registers and pretended to leaf through it, so he could eavesdrop as the lady continued to tear into Mr. Responsibility. She said some intense-sounding stuff, like how she was going to call corporate, and she was going to complain to the manager-- “I am the manager,” the guy had replied contently-- and how she’d never shop there again. When she was finished, she stormed away, and Mr. Responsibility let out a huff.

His eyes once again found Luke, still laughing into the latest copy of National Inquirer. “Can I help you?” he asked, sounding mildly annoyed.

Something about Mr. Responsibility made Luke want to joke around, a little bit. He didn’t know what kind of sense of humor the guy had-- but he’d just gotten annoyed at a customer with a coupon almost old enough to go to prom, so Luke couldn’t resist making some sort of comment. And besides, he reasoned, Reggie had sent him here to flirt with this guy. Go big or go home, right?

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’ve got a coupon from 2005-- will that work?”

“Do you need help finding something?” Mr. Responsibility asked, through gritted teeth.

“Relax...” Luke examined the boy’s name tag, fixed to the center of his blue vest. “Robert. I’m just asking a question. Where’s your sense of customer service?”

“It’s Bobby,” the boy grunted. “The name tag machine is broken so I can’t make a new one. Do you need help finding something?” he repeated. “Or were you just gonna hang out by the magazines, acting all suspicious?”

Luke grinned. “Sorry. I’m just messin’ with ya. Actually…” Maybe he should see what Bobby knew about the cashier that had stolen Reggie’s heart. That was the end goal of this mission, after all-- Operation Flirt Reggie’s Way Back Into The Grocery Store So He Can Sweep Attractive Cashier Girl Off Her Feet. (That name would definitely have to be reworked.)

“My friend-- great guy, real hopeless romantic-- was here earlier today,” Luke said. “He was trying to make this grand gesture to win over one of your cashiers, but he got kicked out before he could give her his number. You know who he meant?” Luke’s eyes trailed along the registers, trying to sense which girl Reggie had fallen for.

“Oh, yeah.” Bobby rolled his eyes. “The guy that defiled a perfectly good carton of chocolate milk. I told him to get lost.”

“I think that was quite unfair of you,” Luke said matter-of-factly. “Also not the type of customer service I’d expect from you-- maybe I should be the next call to corporate, right after Coupon Lady.”

“Yeah?” Bobby’s eyebrows shot up. “What kind of service do you expect, then?”

“Well,” Luke started, putting the copy of National Inquirer back on the shelf, and leafing through the other options. “You were really good with Coupon Lady. Very professional. Very mature-sounding,” he crooned. “How come you can be nice to some customers, and not others?”

Bobby blinked rapidly-- he seemed unsure how to react to Luke’s compliments. “‘Coupon Lady’ wasn’t a hooligan drawing on milk.”

“Ooh, ‘hooligan’?” Luke repeated, grin forming across his face. “Fancy vocabulary you’ve got there. But I’m not just talking about Reggie.”

“What?” Bobby looked confused. “Who else, then? Was it another one of your friends who caused the spill in Aisle Five before?”

“No!” Luke rolled his eyes. “I meant me. I’m a paying customer, and you’re not being very accommodating.”

“I don’t see you paying for anything.” Bobby raised one eyebrow. “Actually, you reading that magazine without buying it first could be considered stealing.”

Luke winked at him. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of payment agreement.”

Bobby froze.

Luke was thoroughly enjoying Bobby’s reactions to his flirting-- plus, his satisfaction grew with the knowledge that he’d have Reggie back in the store in no time.

He ruffled his hair and gave Bobby his most persuasive smile. “Please tell me why you threw Reggie out of the store?” He batted his eyelashes, too, for dramatic effect.

Bobby blinked again, momentarily flustered. “Uh-- well… he was drawing on the milk carton! And he couldn’t explain why-- when I asked, he… he just kept going on about ‘the pretty self-checkout girl’.”

“There are lots of pretty people working here,” Luke commented. He maintained eye contact with the manager and watched his cheeks bloom fuschia.

Bobby opened and closed his mouth for a moment, struggling for words-- he looked kind of like a fish out of water, gasping for breath.

“Do you know who he was talking about?” Luke continued innocently.

Bobby swallowed, looking relieved that Luke had said something he could actually respond to. “He must’ve meant Kayla-- she’s in charge of that today.” He pointed to the self checkout lanes, where a pretty Asian girl stood behind a podium, scribbling onto a clipboard. Turning back to Luke, realizing the other boy’s eyes had never left him, he straightened up, fixing his shirt collar. “Tell your friend he’s got no shot, though. Kayla hasn’t said yes to a guy in months.”

“You don’t know Reggie,” Luke argued. “He can be very persuasive. He’s a real catch, too.”

“You trying to set your friend up with Kayla, or me?”

For some reason, Luke was enjoying pushing Bobby’s buttons. It wasn’t really like him to go around flirting with random grocery store workers-- but this was his mission, after all, and Bobby seemed like he really needed to loosen up a bit. And if there was one thing Luke was good at, it was making people forget about their responsibilities and do what he wanted. Reggie wasn’t the only one who could be persuasive.

“Definitely Kayla,” he said. “But, seriously, bro. Reggie totally didn’t mean to ‘defile’ your milk.”

“Yeah, well, he’s still banned,” Bobby said. “Can I get back to work now?”

Luke reached out to stop Bobby from pushing past him. “Hey, wait.”

“Yes?”

Operation Get-Reggie-Back-Into-The-Grocery-Store was not going to plan. Luke took a deep breath; it was time to switch tactics.

“You know, Bobby, the way you handled Coupon Lady was pretty admirable,” Luke commented. “You’re a great manager.”

Bobby eyed Luke skeptically, taking in his tank top, his beanie, and the way he leaned precariously against the magazine stand, threatening to send it toppling over. But Luke kept a genuine-looking expression plastered on his face, and eventually Bobby’s ego gave in and he accepted the compliment. His shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Thanks.”

“How long’ve you been the manager, anyway?” Luke asked.

“I’m... actually the assistant manager,” Bobby rubbed the back of his neck. “That guy’s the manager.” He nodded to the wall in front of them, where there was a framed picture of an equally stuffy-looking man, wearing a tie. A plaque underneath the framed photo said “Walter, Store Manager.”

“Oooh, where’s your picture?” Luke teased.

“I-- I don’t have one,” Bobby stammered.

“That assistant manager promotion didn’t come with a framed photo?” Luke raised his eyebrows. “That’s a shame. Y’know, the store would look a lot better if it was you hanging up there instead of… Walter.”

“...You think?” Bobby puffed out his chest.

“Definitely,” Luke grinned. “I’d totally put a call in to the higher-ups about that one.”

There was a line building at the registers, now, but Bobby didn’t seem to notice. Luke could tell that the man was starting to warm up to him.

“So, anyway, Bobby… My friend Reggie’s really upset about not being allowed back in here,” Luke said with a sigh. “D’you think there’s anything we could do to un-ban him?”

“That depends…” Bobby started. “Is he gonna harass my cashiers if he’s allowed back?”

“Absolutely not,” Luke denied. “Reggie wouldn’t hurt a fly. Like I said before; total catch, remember?”

Bobby still hesitated.

“And maybe…” Luke suggested with a smirk, “maybe if he actually gets your self checkout girl’s attention, we could go on a double date sometime?”

Bobby gulped. There was a brief period of almost-awkward silence until…

“Y-yeah… yeah, maybe. Just-- just make sure he doesn’t write on any milk this time.”

Luke’s thousand-watt grin lit up his face once again. “I’m gonna need your number, if we’re going to make this happen.”

Bobby wiped his hands on his pants leg and took his cell phone out of the pocket of his vest. “Here.”

Luke tapped his number into Bobby’s phone, and saved his contact information under the name “Hooligan.” He passed the phone back to Bobby, still smiling.

Bobby glanced down at the phone screen, and finally rewarded Luke with his first laugh ever.

“Your turn,” Luke said, passing over his own phone. He watched Bobby type for a moment, and when he got the phone back, he saw that it said, “Customer Service.”

Luke stepped into Alex and Willie’s apartment with a smug grin plastered on his face. At his entry, Reggie hit pause on the movie-- which they had started without Luke-- and ran to meet him at the door. “Well? Am I in?”

“You’re in,” Luke laughed. “And if you really can sweep Kayla off her feet, we’ve got a double date.”

“Double date?” Willie asked. “You met someone at the grocery store, too?”

“Leave it to Luke,” Alex laughed. “Goes to get Reggie a girlfriend and comes back with a date of his own.”

“Turns out Operation Flirt With The Manager worked wonders,” he said. “His name’s Bobby.”

“See, Alex? I told you it was a good idea,” Reggie grinned. “I’m gonna go there right now-- gotta catch Dairy Cute before she leaves!”

“Her name’s Kayla!” Luke called after his friend, as he ran out the door.

Three weeks later, Reggie’s short-lived relationship with Kayla had fizzled out, but Luke and Bobby were still going strong.

They were sitting on the living room couch in Bobby’s apartment, on their fifth official date, having a movie marathon of their own.

“Hey, Bobby?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember when I said that it was unfair of you, banning Reggie from the store?”

“Yeah,” Bobby scoffed.

“Well, I was wrong,” Luke admitted. “I don’t actually blame you-- Reggie’s a total mess sometimes. I’d probably have banned him, too.”

Bobby laughed. “If he ever lets go of that grudge he still has on me, I might tell him you said that.”

“But… I’m actually kinda glad that he wrote on that milk carton,” he admitted. “‘Cause if he hadn’t, I probably never would’ve met you.”

“That’s dairy sappy of you, Wilson,” Luke smirked.

“Oh, shut up,” Bobby replied. He pulled the other boy close, and connected Luke’s lips with his own.

#i feel like the ending of this is super rushed asdfglksd #but i hope you like it!!#thanks for the prompt!#julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanfiction #lukebobby #lobby #luke patterson #bobby wilson #bobby jatp #chickwiththepurpleguitar

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onmysluttyknees · 3 months

Text

Stockholm's Syndrome

Chapter 4

Pairing: Dave York x female reader.

Rating: E 18+ (minors dni). This is for mature audience only! By continuing reading you agree that you are over 18.

⚠️⚠️⚠️Warning! This is a fic about Dave York. Dave York comes with his own warning so do not say I didn't warn you. ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Words: about 2.2K

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Masterlist ✨

When will you be back?

Sooner than you think. Be patient.

“No. I’ll be good. I promise.” You vowed. Sliding your panties to the side, he let one finger slide in between your wet lips.

“Yes, please, Dave, fuck me here, now,” you pleaded with him. Begged him to give you what you so desperately needed.

“Say my name,” he demanded, his voice strained from thrusting into you hard and slow and from him holding back. “Tell me who makes you feel this good.”

He pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants after he had repositioned your panties back into place. And you turned around to finally look at him.

“Me? You are the one who snuck up on me while I was just minding my business, shopping,” you said, smiling sweetly at him. “How is it that you knew exactly where I was, by the way?"

“I may have put in a tracker on your phone,” he confessed. He looked you up and down before meeting your eyes. You didn’t care that he had done that; to be honest, the moment you realized he was behind you, that had been your first thought—that he may have actually been spying on you and keeping track of you. And you found it endearing in a sick and twisted way. But then again, nothing about whatever this was that you had with Dave was normal by any measure.

“Hmm… I thought you might have.”

“You’re not pissed?” He asked and looked at you, almost shocked. Like he had expected you to lose your marbles when you found out.

“Wow, you’re almost as fucked up as me, aren’t you?"

“Almost,” you agreed.

He grabbed your hand and started to pull out towards the exit.

“But my groceries!” You called out.

When he reached his car, he walked with you over to the passenger side and opened the door for you.

The End

(Drabbles and one shots is likely to cum)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Masterlist ✨

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years

Text

May I?

Bard x Reader

Breasts are natures greatest built-in hand warmers, and somebody wants a turn.

Cringy summary warning.

Why must this god forsaken town always be so. Damn. Cold. The winter is bad enough, but even in the spring and fall it is usually much chillier than it has any business being.

It probably has to do with the high altitude and waters that surround your town, but even if it does make sense doesn't mean you have to like it.

You own a simple shop in the Laketown, you home since you were but a child, and in this shop you sell a small variety of different things.

Some of the things you vend include spices, sometimes baked goods, and individual ingredients like flour and butter as well. You're inventory is mostly kitchen goods. The payments you accept consist of more than just money, too. You barter your things in exchange for services and other goods that you need. For example, if someone comes in and they don't have enough, they offer a trade of your things for a service or something that they may sell depending on if they own a shop.

This is common practice here in Laketown.

For the most part, you gather your own ingredients for spices and concoct original blends for both sweet baked pastries and savory meats, and yo usually go out on weekly trips to collect more of the herbs, fruits, and other plants you need.

Your biggest problem in the beginning was finding a mode of travel out of the town, but that all changed after you met Bard.

Well, you actually met his children first. Tilda, Bain, and Sigrid. They were out getting the groceries when they came across your little home-stationed store. They were browsing around and you got caught in a pleasant conversation with Sigrid, and when you mentioned needing to find a boatman for hire to leave the next day, she positively lit up.

"My Da has a boat! He goes out of the town all the time, and I'm sure he'd be happy to take you."

Suffice to say you sent them home with a nice basket full of things from your store.

Later on in that same day their father entered your store and greeted you very nicely. He told you his name, Bard, and thanked you for all the things you gave his children.

At the time you laughed, "It was purely selfish, I'm afraid. Your daughter, Sigrid, informed me that you're a Bargeman."

And then you offered him a very generous price to take you across the lake each week, and, for some reason, he declined payment and agreed to do it all the same. This arrangement has been going on for quite a few months now, and it didn't remain strictly business for long.

Anyways, brining you back to your current problem with the cold.

You are seated just to the left of Bard on a small box, relaxing as he steers the two of you through the calm waters. Your fingers are freezing and stiff from reduced blood flow, and your nose feels as if it's about to fall off.

With a glance up at Bard you can tell the weather doesn't bother him quite as much, so you don't bother complaining and instead move to rummage through the covered basket you'd brought with you.

"The waters are rather calm, why don't you take a seat and come see what I've brought." You state suddenly, tilting your head up to look at him again.

His gaze flickers to you from the open waters ahead, then back, seemingly considering your suggestion. "As much as I'd love to see what spoils you've brought, I think it would be better if we land first." His eyes flicker to yours then back again, "You can wait 10 minutes, sweetling, can't you?"

A small, childish pout shows your displeasure, so nudges your knee with his foot to grab your attention. "Come on now, do not look at me like that." He says with a contagious smile. You can't help but to grin back.

"Fine. I'll be patient."

---

His promised time is rather accurate, you find, when not even 15 minutes later he's bringing the boat to shore and tying it down firmly.

Once he's done securing the vessel, he steps back in and settles into a crouching position in front of you. "Alright, now show me what you've got there."

Despite your stiff fingers you still manage to open up the basket rather quickly from excitement to present your items.

Inside the basket you stored a newly baked loaf of bread, various fruit pastries, some seasonings and spices, and, finally, some fancy butters and spreads you managed to snag from a woman the other day who traded you for a few things from your shop.

Once he registers all the things in the basket he looks up at you in shock. "I cannot possibly accept all of this!"

You narrow your eyes at his bafflement and reach over to pinch his cheek. "Well, you don't let me pay you, and I know that your children love my baking. If you refuse to accept my gift then I will only bring it by your house later on."

Reluctantly you release his cheek, his face is much warmer than your own and it feels nice on your frozen fingertips, and smooth your hands down your skirt to flatten out the waves.

"The warmth you provide my bed at night is appreciation enough, but if you still think you're lacking then by all means come and show me how thankful you are again." He tells you slyly, a smirk on his face as he wraps one of his arms around your waist.

Your face heats up at the very clear implications behind his words, though it's true, and playfully smack his arm. "You absolute scoundrel! You're corrupting me, I swear."

He laughs good-naturedly and releases you, moving to sit with his back leaning against the side of his ship.

The basket creaks as he lifts it up and places it on his lap, it seems he's no longer rejecting your gift, to look through the assortment of pastries and condiments you gave him.

While he sorts through your basket you look down at your hands and flex your fingers to try and increase the blood flow, frustrated at how the cold almost burns you. The cold even seeped in through the thick material of your jacket, though to be fair to it's quality, you are wearing a rather thin blouse.

You open and close your fist a few times, then reach up and unbutton the first few buttons of your jacket. Then you shove your hands down your shirt and curl your frosty fingertips under your breasts and have your thumbs press against your palms.

The stark contrast in temperature of your hands versus your chest makes you squeeze your eyes shut for a second, but it doesn't last long so you look back over at Bard who is, now, looking at you with a weird look on his face.

His gaze drops to where you've situated your hands, and you glance down as well.

"My hands are cold." You say shyly, returning your attention back to his face.

He raises an eyebrow at you in questioning, but doesn't verbally respond.

"Oh come on, I'm not trying to seduce you by warming up my fingers. It's warm in here and I am not ashamed of my nature-given hand warmers." You grumble, still quite embarrassed despite your words insisting otherwise.

Bard moves the basket to rest on the ground again and scoots forward, "If you're so cold then allow me to warm you up." He suggests mischievously, clearly teasing you.

"No thank you, I'm quite content with what I've got here." You reply, lifting your hands a bit to jostle your shirt.

"If it's as warm as you say, then I would like a try." Comes his arbitrary request.

Your face heats up at the nonchalant way he says this, and while the warmth is nice, you're still quite flustered. "You would l-like a try?" You stutter out, watching that devilishly handsome smirk appear on his face.

"That's what I said."

Gosh, his confidence is sexy.

You drive that thought away quickly, slipping your hands out of your tucked in blouse and letting them drop to your lap.

His eyes follow the movement of your hands, then looks at your face again expectantly.

"Fine. But if you pull anything I will take that basket and tell your children not to allow you to have even a crumb." Your threats only make him chuckle, and you can't help but to smile in return.

He wraps his hands around your waist and tugs your towards him, turning you so your back presses against his chest and you're seated between his legs.

First, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and crosses his wrists, simply messing with the fabric of your blouse for a few moments.

You grasp the bodice of your shirt and pull it forward, dipping your head down briefly to invite him in already. And he takes that invitation swiftly.

He pushes his hands into your shirt and you shift around at the temperature difference (though you were expecting it). His right hand rests on your left breast, and his left hand lays on the opposite.

Now, you'd never admit it verbally or anything, but you actually quite like it. The cold contrast of his palms pressing into your heated skin creates a whole new sensation you're not used to, and the strength you know those hands have only make the gentleness of his hold so much sweeter.

You bend your knees and press them against your blouse and hand clad chest, then lay your head back against his shoulder.

His own legs come up and bend at the knees much like your own, but he instead presses his knees into yours and presses you tighter against him while also moving his head down to nuzzle the junction between your neck and shoulder.

The moment is intimate, but in a way that isn't quite sexual despite the current location of his hands and the way he presses his nose against your neck.

The two of you sit just like that for who knows how long, and you love every second of it. Though eventually you simply have to ask, "Are you hands warm yet, my dear?"

He doesn't reply right away, and for a moment you wonder if he's fallen asleep, but a gentle squeeze of you bosom tells you that he is, in fact, very much awake.

"What did I say about funny business, Bard?" You scold, though the annoyance doesn't actually fill your voice.

His chest practically vibrates against your back as he laughs, and he presses a light kiss to your neck. "Forgive me, I have trouble controlling myself when such a wonderful woman is within my grasp."

Oh this man is a complete flatterer.

"I'll allow this infraction to pass, but one more slip up and you'll really be in for it." Once again the threat has no actual success in intimidating him, but that's alright.

"We should probably get to work, now."

#the hobbit #fluff #bard the bowman x reader #bard x reader #bard the bowman #bard #the hobbit fanfiction #romance #reader insert #reader #cringy summary but decent story

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the-black-birb · 4 years

Text

3. Puberty Strikes

pairing: Ennoshita x Reader

masterlist

synopsis: Ennoshita begins to realize that you are a woman and doesn't know how to handle that information.

Junior high was a doozy.

You liked the word doozy; you'd learned it from Chikara. Although it meant “something extraordinary,” it was usually used to mean “something troublesome.” It sounded funny and rolled off your tongue easily. But you didn’t want to think about Chikara, not now. He was the reason why junior high was a doozy and why you kept saying the word doozy and frankly this was getting out of hand.

You groaned, staring at the blank page in front of you. Write about how your junior high experience shaped you. It was a strange question for a high school admission sheet but you hadn’t thought to question until now, wondering what words you could string together to sound meaningful.

***

Primary school had been easy with Chikara at your side, always helping you along the way. You didn’t question it (didn’t want to question it, really) until you were in your final year. He’d promised you when he went away to junior high you two would still talk, even if you weren’t able to share mornings together. On days when he didn’t come by for dinner, Chikara would still find time to meet you at his window with paper and sharpie in hand.

You didn’t mind it at first. Spending less time with Chikara meant the moments you did spend together were extra special. Every smile he sent your way or rock hitting your window (it was a wonder neither of you had broken them yet) was even more important. You swore you didn’t mind it.

Yet inevitably, school got busier for him. There were less late nights and colorful notebooks (reading was easy now so you’d taken to drawing out stories and making him guess). You could see his light on from his room, undoubtedly keeping him up while he studied intensely, but his attention was no longer on you.

You hoped in vain that you’d be able to return to your morning walks together when you got to junior high but there was no such luck. Your parents placed you in a school of their choice, which was conveniently in the opposite direction of Chikara’s. If you were lucky, you’d see him in the morning when you left the house and spare him a wave. He’d always smile charmingly, in a way that made it feel like he’d saved this moment just for you, and then in a few seconds, he’d be gone.

As school went on, it only got worse. You were an above-average student, keeping in mind all the rigorous habits Chikara had enforced in you over the years. You tried not to think too much about where you learned to study since thinking of the boy simply made your chest ache. Although you’d crawled out from your shell and no longer had issues making friends, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was missing. You’d watch as the girls in your grade talked about guys and crushes, pointing out the cutest and most athletic, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take part. Your mind was elsewhere.

Often, you’d scold yourself for letting him affect you. Your parents were overwhelmingly proud of your grades and the friends you’d made, truly there was nothing for you to complain about. But every morning, you’d leave your house feeling disappointed.

It started during your second year of junior high, and Chikara’s last. Finally, you’d figure out his schedule and made an effort to leave at the same time (you weren’t stalking him, just being observant!) so you could relish in the thirty-second greetings you’d share. You’d changed up your uniform, switching to the summer style without a vest because your friends had insisted it was the cuter version. There was nothing stopping you from having a great day, you were sure of it.

Nothing except Chikara.

You’d walked out of your house gleaming with confidence, even more so because you saw Chikara had left his house at the same moment. With practiced grace (you’d grown out of your clumsy phase) you made your way down the steps of your porch adorning an inviting smile.

“Morning, Chikara!” you greeted. “How’ve you been?” You quietly hoped your cheerful disposition hid your desperation. Whenever you spoke to him lately, your palms would sweat and you’d feel your heart beating in the back of your throat. Your nerves, you’d assumed, were because you hadn’t spoken to him casually in such a long time, and you were starting to forget how. You just wanted him to smile back at you and tease you like he used to.

Instead, you saw red creeping up his neck. Did I make him mad? You’d wondered.

“[L/N]!” he exclaimed, voice cracking. “Good day to you!” was all he had to say before he was turning on his heel, shoulders tense and ears crimson.

You sighed defeatedly. After spending far too much time thinking over your interactions with him, wondering what you’d done wrong and how to fix your relationship, you were about ready to give up.

Your interactions with Chikara (pardon, Ennoshita) remained largely unchanged. On the occasion you saw him, you’d do your best to be civil and greet him with a smile, but he’d often run off in a similar fashion. Once, you’d seen him wait to leave his house until he knew you were gone. You’d daresay he was even trying to avoid you.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it. Had you been too clingy? Was he tired of trying to amuse you? You certainly didn’t want to make an enemy of him, but the way his whole face got red whenever you were around you could only assume he was furious with you.

The tensions eased your last year in junior high. Ennoshita was too busy with high school to see you in the mornings (your mother, who still spoke with his parents, had politely informed you that he had volleyball practice in the early morning. You rolled your eyes at the thought. Of course it was volleyball) and often stayed late at school (“Chikara is such a diligent worker!” your mother crooned. You could care less). Fortunately, you had far less embarrassing encounters and on the occasion you were forced to see him (dinners, grocery shopping, spring cleaning), he seemed far calmer.

It was a relief to see him relax around you again. Finally, he regained some of the familiar energy that made you feel safe and sound, knowing he was there. Still, you were nervous around him, worried one of your actions would set him off again. You’d never really understood why Ennoshita got so flustered around you, after all.

Your worries were put to rest when his schedule suddenly changed. You were surprised, one spring afternoon, when you found him sitting on the doorstep of his house with a notebook in hand. Usually, he’d have practice right now and you knew from your mother’s constant babbling that Ennoshtia never skipped. Quietly, you debated calling out to him. He’d been far more polite lately and you’d even gotten him to talk with you about comics last time his family was over for dinner. But you still weren’t certain you two were in good standing, so you tried to test the waters.

“Locked out?” you called to him from in front of his house.

His eyes fluttered up to meet yours and a lazy smile decorated his face (how you missed that smile). “Yeah,” he chuckled. “Didn’t expect to come home so early and I forgot my keys.” You didn’t miss the pink tint of his ears as he explained his embarrassing mistake.

“Well don’t be a stranger, you can wait in my house for your parents to get home,” you offered, gesturing for him to join you. You weren’t certain what possessed you to say that, but the urge to talk with Ennoshita again and reform your friendship kept gnawing at you.

He hesitated for a moment and it was the first time you let yourself wonder if being alone with a boy in your house would make your parents suspicious but you brushed your worries aside. It was Ennoshita, he’d been like a brother to you! You stared at him persistently, and soon he found himself entering your house with his bag in hand.

“Sorry to intrude,” he apologized with a small bow, taking off his shoes.

“It’s no biggie,” you smiled, praying you didn’t seem too excited. “Mom would have my head if she found out I just left you out there,” you joked. She had always liked him, after all.

The two of you settled side by side at your counter, doing your work in silence. You shifted in your seat awkwardly, wanting to break the silence but scared of coming off as too desperate. Your throat was parched, nervousness sinking in.

“Lemonade?” you asked, getting out the pitcher your mother had made and pouring a glass for yourself.

“Sure, thank you,” Ennoshita smiled, realizing you’d already grabbed a second glass for him before he could respond. No one ever said no to your mother’s lemonade.

“You’ve gotten awfully good at literature,” Ennoshita noted, leaning over to look at your notebook as you grabbed a few pretzels to go along with your drinks. You smirked.

“Well, I had an awfully good teacher,” you responded proudly. You sat next to him again, drinks and snacks in hand, and let your thigh bump against his. Playfully, Ennoshita pushed back at you and you found yourself falling into a familiar banter. It was as if you’d never entered into junior high and instead you were back to walking together after school, entirely comfortable in one another’s presence.

You were almost sad when his parents came home and he bid you goodbye.

The next day you got home a bit earlier, just in time to see him walking into his house. Disappointment sunk into your chest as you realized days like the previous were likely few and far between. Maybe it was your own fault for getting your hopes up, but you didn’t want to let him go so easily.

“You know,” you called out, unaware of where your sudden confidence came from. “It’s awfully lonely to be home by myself.”

Ennoshita turned from his door, smirking at you mischievously. “Well, we can’t have that,” he quipped, all too eager to grab his bag and head towards your house.

The next day, he even waited outside for you, patiently reading on your doorstep. You welcomed him in without hesitation, letting yourself be distracted by the sudden company. For almost a whole week you continued this, falling into the habit of seeing him. Although something told you there must obviously be something wrong for him to suddenly show up, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him why. After almost three years of avoiding you, why now was he waiting on your doorstep? Why wasn’t he at volleyball practice, even though your mother swore he was dedicated to it?

You were too afraid to ask, worried that you’d make him angry or uncomfortable and you’d no longer be able to sit next to him at your counter, blissfully sipping on lemonade without a care in the world. But after a week of spending time with him, you couldn’t stop your curiosity.

“Why aren’t you at volleyball practice?” you asked him, interrupting a rather intriguing argument on why Shakespeare is definitely overrated (“It’s just dick jokes!” Ennoshita insisted, to which you replied “But they’re funny dick jokes!”).

He paused to stare at you. The familiar sensation of fear resting in your stomach swallowed you whole as you were quick to apologize for the question. You’d figured volleyball would be the safest topic to ask him about, something your mothers spoke about. But his hesitation proved you wrong.

“It’s okay,” he calmed you. “Just...embarrassing, I guess.” Ennoshita laughed to himself, but you could tell something was amiss. He smiled wearily, and his eyes seemed to be looking worlds away from you.

“I’ve been skipping out on practice,” he explained to you, staring into his lap. “It got really difficult and I guess I needed a break.” He sighed, exasperated. “But that’s no excuse. I’m just scared.”

You were a bit taken aback with his honesty. To you, Ennoshita had always been someone who could do no wrong and make no mistakes. He wasn’t perfect, but he was damn near close to it. It wasn’t often that you were the one comforting him, and now that you had the chance you were at a loss for words.

“It’s pretty embarrassing to skip practice,” you agreed. Ennoshita winced before laughing it off (“yeah, I deserve that.”) “But isn’t it lamer to not go back at all?”

“Huh?”

You turned your seat towards Ennoshita so he could get your full attention as you stumbled over your words. “I mean, we all need a break sometimes,” you explained. “Like if all I ever read was Shakespeare-” Ennoshita laughed at you, all you had read that week was Shakespeare. “I’d get sick of it sooner or later. So I read some Hemmingway and some Euripides, but I still go back to Shakespeare.” You sighed, shaking your head.

“That analogy doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled, twiddling your thumbs. Seeing you nervous had Ennoshita relaxing in his seat. “You seem like you miss volleyball. What’s stopping you from going back?”

“Pride?” Ennoshita offered.

“What pride?” you snickered. “You’re already skipping.”

You wondered if that was too much teasing for someone you were trying to be cautious of. Ennoshita was awfully sweet, after all, and you didn’t want to offend him.

Your worries were met by hearty, full laughter and crows feet dancing at the corner of Ennoshita’s eyes. It was the first time he’d seemed so unhinged since he started visiting after school. You were glad for it -- after all, you wanted nothing more than to see him happy. But there was something in you screaming that you didn’t belong beside him. That you shouldn’t be allowed to indulge in his laughter or the way his face lit up as he wiped the tears away from his eyes.

“Thanks, [L/N],” he heaved.

We’re barely even friends. You swallowed away your concerns. It didn’t matter, did it? Friends, acquaintances, neighbors. You didn’t need an excuse to sit next to him and smile.

Before you could respond, the familiar sound of car doors locking rang from outside. You and Ennoshita sighed in unison.

“I guess that’s me,” Ennoshita sighed, standing and grabbing his bags. “Thanks again, [L/N].” There was a newfound conviction in his voice that had you sighing fondly. He sounded so grown up.

“Anytime,” you muttered, watching him walk away to his house.

The next day, Ennoshita didn’t show up to your doorstep, but for some reason, you didn’t mind.

***

It was a nice consolation after spending all your time in junior high worried over some boy to finally get to a point of normalcy with him, but it didn’t change the fact that your memories of junior high were too clouded with worry to really leave you feeling content.

Write about how your junior high experience has shaped you.

In the back of your mind, you wanted to talk about how your relationship with Ennoshita changed and grew. There were so many lessons you could include. How sometimes people just need time to be comfortable with you. All the ways he taught you to study. Or maybe, you could write about picking yourself back up again even when you fall down. Writing about him was undoubtedly the most honest way you could talk about your junior high experience.

You laughed dryly. Write about a boy? That’s too embarrassing.

In the end, You wrote about your “favorite teacher.” It was probably more convincing, anyway.

It was a relief to finish all the paperwork. You knew highschool was important and all, but it was really such a pain with all the prep work you had to do. You were all too happy to be able to turn in admission sheets.

Taking one final look over your papers, you heard you friend ask “Why Karasuno?” as she peeked at your forms. “You could probably get into Shiratorizawa with your grades.”

“Well…” You had plenty of reasons you could give. It was fairly close to your house, and not a bad school at all. Their girl’s track team was really good, and you had thought about joining. But you know the only real reason you wanted to go was the image of a boy at your doorstep. “I guess I like the uniform the most,” you smiled.

Your friends laughed at you, telling you how weird you were for your choice but smiling along nonetheless as you handed in your forms, without even looking back.

Taglist: @yogurtkink @scrooodles @heccingdead @unhappyraspberry @desi-studys @fait-de-fleurs @adoring-obi-wan @ryuujisblog @hqkeiji @babiekeiji @kefakiran @glisteningeclipses @svtbitch @ladyinmoon (send an ask or message me to be added <3)

#lemonade #ennoshita x reader #ennoshita chikara x reader #haikyuu ennoshita x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu x you #haikyuu ennoshita chikara x reader #haikyuu fluff

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smkkbert · 4 years

Text

Time for a story - Brotherhood

Glancing at his watch, Oliver hurried towards the front door of the Reeds. He had been supposed to be here twenty minutes ago to pick up Tommy from his playdate with Hank already. Since the meeting at City Hall had taken a lot longer than planned, Oliver just hadn’t been able to make it in time, so he was taking two steps at a time now.

“Oliver.”

The door opened before Oliver could knock. Mrs. Reed stepped out, smiling at Oliver in that way that always made him take a step back. He linked his fingers behind his back and smiled at Mrs. Reed politely, trying to not show how uncomfortable he was feeling at the way she looked at him.

Oliver was happy that Tommy had found a good friend like Hank. The two of them reminded Oliver a lot of his own childhood when he had spent as much time as possible with Tommy. They had imagined what it would be like to be in their fathers’ position one day, being at the head of big companies and living life to what they had believed was the fullest. Of course they had thought more about money, power and maybe even a little bit about girls rather than they had considered the work behind that.

At least when it came to that, Tommy and Hank were fundamentally different. When Oliver had listened to the two friends last week, they had talked about sticking together through college. Tommy wanted to become a doctor. Hank wanted to become a lawyer. They obviously had the better friendship and life goals.

Now, if there was one thing that Oliver didn’t like about their friendship, it was the fact that he had to run into Mrs. Reed every once in a while. He was usually the one to pick Tommy up from playdates because his schedule wasn’t as unpredictable as Felicity’s, at least it wasn’t that unpredictable whenever Tommy was here to play with his friend. Unfortunately, Mrs. Reed liked to have him show up at her doorstep a little too much. He could see it in her eyes because they lightened up whenever she saw him.

“Mrs. Reed.”

“Mayor Queen.” Mrs. Reed looked him up and down, almost making Oliver feel like a piece of meat that she wanted to devour with a nice glass of her best red wine in the light of some warm candles. “It is very nice to see you.”

Oliver chuckled almost a little nervously at that. As McKenna had recently pointed out to him, he always reacted defensively when women complimented him or even just said something very nice to him. He couldn’t prevent it. If Felicity was standing next to him, he’d step a little closer to her, making sure that nobody missed he was completely hers.

The truth was that Oliver knew exactly where his place was. He wasn’t scared that any woman could make him forget that and seduce him. He just didn’t like to be reminded of his past when he had flirted and slept with whatever woman had offered herself to him or when being with one woman hadn’t been a reason to devour another. That was not him anymore, and he didn’t want to give anyone – no other woman, no other person, no media – a reason to think something different.

“It’s nice to see you too.” Oliver’s smile was probably a little too wide. “Is Tommy ready because we have to-“

“Coming!”

With his backpack hanging over one shoulder loosely, Tommy came running out. Oliver brushed his fingers through his son’s dark hair and took the backpack from him although he doubted that it was heavy enough to bother Tommy.

“See you, Mrs. Reed.”

“See you, Mayor Queen.”

Oliver shot her another brief smile before he turned around. Taking Tommy’s hand, he started walking down the steps towards his car. Still, he could feel Mrs. Reed’s eyes on the back of his neck. It caused his heckles to rise.

“Did you show Mrs. Reed your candy?”

Stopping still at the foot of the stairs, Oliver turned around to Tommy. He frowned at him, looking at him with slightly narrowed eyes. He knew that Tommy was certainly not trying to say what his question might sound like. The only question here was what Tommy really meant to say.

“What do you mean, Buddy?”

“Mommy said to Mrs. Reed that she can eye your candy, and then Mrs. Reed keeps away Mrs. Martin.”

From the expression on Tommy’s face, Oliver could tell that his son had no idea what he was saying there. He just repeated words he had heard or words he had thought he had heard at least. He didn’t really understand what was going on though.

For Oliver on the other hand the pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place. He guessed that his wife – God, he loved her so much that even just thinking about her made a smile spread on his lips now – had treated him, aka the eye candy Tommy hadn’t quite gotten, against some rest from the head of the parents’ committee of Tommy’s school. Mrs. Martin loved to annoy Felicity with all the tasks she could still take to help the school when he and Felicity already did a lot to make sure that the school got everything they needed to give the kids a good education.

Chuckling, Oliver lifted his gaze towards the sky and shook his head. He’d do anything to protect Felicity. If she needed him to use his body to protect her from the parents’ committee which was indeed quite annoying at times, he’d do it. He was a husband like that, and he was sure that he could use this new knowledge to have some really lovely hours in bed with Felicity. Once the kids were in bed, he should maybe make sure that she found out that he knew about her little deal with Mrs. Reed.

“We gotta take a little detour to the supermarket before we head home, Tommy,” Oliver said with a smile, opening the door to the backseats of the car for his son, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No,” Tommy replied, shaking his head with a wide smile on his lips, “of course not.”

Oliver chuckled. Of course Tommy didn’t mind because he knew that he could put so many things into cart. The kids just loved joining their parents when they were shopping groceries. With five kids, a trip to the supermarket could quickly get stressful and quite expensive. With one kid, it was like a cakewalk.

Directing the car out of the parking lot, Oliver switched on some music. A quick glance into the second rearview mirror that was directed at the backseats, so he could always keep an eye on the children, made him see Tommy resting his head against the doo with a deep sigh. The boy seemed to be exhausted from his play date.

It wasn’t long after they had started driving that the music was interrupted by Oliver’s ringtone. Oliver lifted his head from the window pane immediately.

“Is it mommy?”

Oliver shot a brief glance at the display of his phone. He would have bet that it was indeed Felicity as she usually called after her last appointment to tell him that she was on her way home, but some other name was displayed.

“No,” Oliver said, “it’s not mommy.”

Oliver took the call. “Anatoli.”

“Uncle Toni!”

Tommy seemed utterly excited about Anatoli’s calls. Although Emmy and Tommy had been too young to remember Anatoli and neither of the other kids had ever met him, they all loved their Uncle Toni. He was the nice uncle that sent expensive gifts all the way from Russia for the holidays and birthdays. Through the years, he had always stayed in touch with the family. He had even helped Felicity to find him when everyone had believed he had died.

“Ah, my favorite Tommy-American is on board,” Anatoli said, reminding Oliver that the kids were all first on that list, “how are you doing, young man?”

“I’m great!” Tommy laughed happily. “How are you?”

“I’m perfect,” Anatoli laughed, “but I am glad that you asked.”

Oliver couldn’t help but be amazed how even the darkest criminals and the broodiest guys turned into putty around his kids. Then he remembered how dark he had used to be too and how easily his children had wrapped him around their tiny fingers, and he knew that kids just brought that kind of light everyone felt drawn to, especially the ones living in darkness.

“Oliver, speaking about your kids when is number six finally coming?” Anatoli asked. “You still need a boy with a strong Russian name like Sergey or Rasputin. He could be the next Pakhan.”

Oliver chuckled. Since Emmy had been born, Anatoli insisted that they needed a baby with a Russian name. He had come up with ideas again and again, even sending them a little book of Russian names to inspire them. He just loved the idea a little bit too much.

“What happens if it’s going to be a girl?”

“We have great names for girls too,” Anatoli replied easily, “like Anastasia or Svetlana. And the Bratva loves it tradition if that rings a bell for you – pun included – but we go with the time. Strong female leaders will certainly enrich our brotherhood.”

Shaking his head, Oliver chuckled once more. He knew that Anatoli was mostly teasing him. Still, the bare idea that one of his children would be at the head of the Bratva made a tight knot form in the pit of his stomach. There were things that he wanted to keep his children away from. The Bratva was one of those.

The knot became even tighter when Oliver thought about the baby he and Felicity still might want to have. He had told her that maybe he wanted to have another baby a while ago. He just hadn’t hade the final decision yet, so he and Felicity had never really talked about it again. Maybe one day.

“Why are you calling?”

“I’ve got some problems with friends in Staling City and I thought you might want to know about that, but it’s not for children’s ears.”

“I can keep a secret,” Tommy complained, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he felt truly offended. “Tell me.”

“This is not about the fact that you cannot keep a secret, Buddy,” Oliver told Tommy comfortingly, “because we know that you can keep a secret. After all, you have never told anyone that I am the Green Arrow. This is a secret between brothers though like you and William have secrets too.”

Tommy didn’t seem particularly happy about the answer. He grumbled some words to himself and looked out of the window.

“If it’s about our group of Chinese friends, they have already been called on my radar.”

The Triad was indeed planning something. Oliver couldn’t say what it was, but Felicity’s surveillance system had shown some unusual movements and strange late-night meetings. They were up for some big crime, and the team was currently trying to find out what it was and how to stop it.

“I’ve got some information on that,” Anatoli replied, “but I guess I will just call my second favorite American then.”

“I thought I was your second favorite American.”

Anatoli snorted. “Not anymore. It’s now Felicity.”

Oliver chuckled, shaking his head. “I knew I would regret starting a family one day.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” Oliver agreed with soft voice, “not even a bit.”

Oliver smiled, letting the words sink in for a moment. Nothing could ever make him regret starting a family. Getting married and having kids had given him so much. There might have been a time that he had thought having kids wasn’t fair to the kids that were born into a dangerous life. He knew now that his life also gave a lot to the kids though. They were happy and as safe as possible given the circumstances. That was really all that mattered.

“Bye, Anatoli, and thanks for calling.”

“You’re welcome. До свидания, Oliver!”

“До свидания, Anatoli.”

“Bye, Tommy.”

“Bye, Uncle Toni.”

Oliver ended the call just when he was directing the car onto the large parking lot before the supermarket. Hand in hand, he and Tommy walked to the entry and strolled through the aisle of the supermarket.

There had been three things on Oliver’s list, all supplies for the dinner he was planning to cook once he and Tommy had retuned home, but the cart was filled with all kind of different stuff by the time he and Tommy arrived at the checkout counter.

When has was taking the kids shopping, he could count on the fact that he would buy a lot more than he had planned to. Since the kids had this generosity of not only buying things for themselves but for the entire family, Oliver let them though. Today, for example, Tommy had put a bottle of Felicity’s favorite bath additive into the cart, saying mommy looked a little stressed lately, and she might need some relaxing hours in the bathtub. He had also asked Oliver to order a chicken wing at the meat counter because Hawk had been such a good boy lately. How could Oliver possibly say no to that even though he knew that they still had two bottles of that at home and Hawk had an entire drawer full of treats in the kitchen?

When it was their turn to pay, the cashier, an elderly man with grey-peppered hair, lifted his gaze and smiled warmly. Oliver had seen him a couple of times already when they had been shopping. He was always very nice, especially to the kids.

“Good evening, Mayor Queen.” He lowered his gaze to look at Tommy. “Good evening, Tommy. You’ve got glasses now. They look great.”

“Thank you,” Tommy said with a wide smile, “so do you think I look like Harry Potter?”

“I think that, if they’d do a remake of the story, they should hire you.”

“Thank you.” Tommy smiled proudly because he loved to be compared to Harry Potter. “How are you doing today?”

The cashier smiled at the sweet question. He was probably not asked this by a lot of customers. Shooting a look back over his shoulder to all the people that were playing with their phones while they were waiting. The cashiers probably didn’t have many customers talk to them at all.

“I have a really good day,” the cashier answered, starting to scan the articles, “and you?”

“I have a great day too,” Tommy replied, “thank you.”

“Such a polite boy.”

Oliver chuckled. “He is on his best behavior today it seems.”

The cashier smiled and shot Oliver a meaningful glance. Oliver understood immediately and nodded his head. The cashier stopped scanning the articles to reach under the counter. He lifted a lollipop and smiled at Tommy.

“Do you want one?”

“Yes, please.”

Tommy grabbed the lollipop eagerly and turned it in his hands. He was taking it in intensely like he wanted to see absolutely all of it. Oliver didn’t know if maybe he expected a hidden secret or something there, but Tommy really took his time.

Oliver cleared his throat. “What do we say?”

Immediately, Tommy lifted his head. He glanced at Oliver before he looked at the cashier and asked, “Can I have more please?”

Oliver slapped the back of Tommy’s head playfully, barely enough to make him feel the touch of his fingers at all. Tommy looked at his father like he had no idea what he had done wrong, but Oliver perked up his eyebrows expectantly. Saying please and thank you were one of the first things he and Felicity had taught their kids.

Quickly, Tommy turned back to the cashier and explained, “I have siblings at home. I don’t want them to be sad because I can’t share.”

Oliver regretted the playful slap on his son’s head now. His fingers brushed through Tommy’s hair, and he smiled at his son warmly. The love his children had for one another was beyond beautiful. It warmed him from the inside out.

The cashier handed Tommy another four lollipops, and Tommy pushed them into the pocket of his jacket quickly. As soon as he had zipped the pocket, he smiled at the cashier.

“Thank you.”

“You are very welcome.”

While Tommy drove the cart outside already, Oliver quickly paid the articles.

“Have a nice evening,” he wished the cashier, “and thank you.”

“You seem to have a really nice family.”

Oliver smiled, nodding his head. “I am blessed.”

* * *

@fannaz @promiseyoullbepatientwithme @bytemegeekette @felicity-said-just-in-case @phanseptiic @orangeisorangeok @mspotatohead14 @whentheheavenfades @emmaamelia95 @smoakingskye @seaolicity @ourwritinginvein @1022bridgetp @felicityqueenforever @leagueofolicity17 @yryssss @myhauntedblacksoul @sherlock44 @sinceriouslybea @olivyflavescentdeer @olicitys-castle @ofnothingcharming @vaelisamaza @smoakedandcharmed @alexisa1206 @mysaudadespt2 @florence-bubbles @addictiontelly @queens-of-arrows @memcjo @hysterical-for-joshifer-blog @oswinelevenforever @olicitylovemaking @bandanab310 @mymusiclove101 @lynslogic @scarletqueen23 @olicityshipper19 @alex-wesley @arrows-4ever @unabashedlynerdypatrol @louehmysoul @ligiapimenta @chattyyana @charlie-leau @coal000 @samcrowleys @ishippolivia @julianegomesqueen @malafle @miriam1779 @charlinert @melaux @ontheolicityship @myshipperlife @wrightainsley @lexi9515 @ladygreenwood @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl @morinamel @mje-thomas @kebarry @canadianheartgirl @nannett2307 @almondblossomme @kathrynelizabeth89 @imdfabulous @mrt2501 @arsipaci14 @salasvia @brandis91 @cainc3 @morganmiguess @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl @iamisalima @nessafrancis-blog @jonhdiggle @niki-is-amazing @universed-posts @hopeful-warrior @senoritaswiftie @bellemmie @green-arrows-of-karamel @iheartarrow @olicityovereverything @oliverfel4 @olicity-in-the-heart @fullychippedcreation @geemarie @everything-but-normal-cat @myarroworld @tjmartinez @pleasantfanandstudent @j69confessional2 @scentedcolorpirate @icanica74 @tjmartinez98 @certainmentalityface @tatianadamaceno @ryelew @wildwillowzepplin @missafairy @letsplaymurde-r @lipizette @positivepiper @nuttymilkshakehologram @laksagirl @turnupthemusicandscream @pumpernickle93 @onceuponanolicity @1106angel @jaspertown @fadinglands @morganashimi83 @mochababychristy @omglovechrissie @mariejr88-blog @thetaufactor @onceuponanolicity @speakandseethetruth @bri206 @aglasgo @geemarie @pineprincess @nerdgirljen @eternal-olicity14 @allyouhadtodowas-stay-stay-stay @lovelycssefan @tsseract @flowerandsunshine @dcnmarvelgamergeek @blondeeoneexox @monetsmark @bb-olicity @mashamarty @rulerofsilence @erika-amber @nothingmorethanmyotps @kayleenyc @tonto16 @olicityfluv @olicitea1990 @haahaaa2408 @pattid1 @faegal04 @24karatgem @wrldtravler @readerkas @olicity-beliver @greencoffeecups @snorlaxishere

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#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #time for a story

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justlookfrightened · 4 years

Text

Second Zimbits bingo post #4

Start reading from the beginning

“Stay over”

Jack left shortly after Shitty did, leaving Bitty alone with Lardo for the moment.

“You’re sure he doesn’t mind?” Bitty said. “I can go back to the Haus and make something real quick and bring it back, then get out of here. I mean, he doesn’t seem to like me much.”

“Dude,” Lardo said. “What makes you think he doesn’t like you?”

“He leaves as soon as he can after I show up,” Bitty said. “He hardly talks to me, and he barely had half a slice of my pie. Maybe I should have just gotten out of his hair. Sometimes I can’t help putting my foot in it.”

“You don’t know Jack,” Lardo said. “He talks more to you than most people, especially people he just met. I mean, he owns this shop, and he hardly talks to anyone. He only works the counter when no one else is here, and he’d actually prefer to run the errands than be left to talk to customers. He invited you to stay last night, and probably tonight too, it sounds like. I think he likes you fine.”

“I don’t know,” Bitty said. “It seems like he asked me to stay against his better judgment, like he couldn’t bring himself to send me away. It’s not like I can complain — it was great to have a warm bed last night — but I don’t want to be in the way.”

“In the way of what?” Lardo said.

Bitty shrugged, then stepped aside as a gaggle of customers came in.

He moved to look at the bookshelves that lined the walls while Lardo took care of them.

He stopped at the sight of an old copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Holy cripes. It was a 1961 copy, first edition, but in anything but mint condition. It had been well loved by someone, with food stains on some pages and penciled notes on others.

Bitty was still absorbed when Jack came back, carrying some kind of a salad with nuts and fruit for Lardo, chicken tenders and a grilled chicken sandwich.

“Which one do you want?” Jack said, holding up the tenders and the sandwich. “I’ll take the other.”

Bitty thought Jack looked a little relieved when he chose the sandwich, which was still hot. The lettuce was a bit wilted and the tomato was watery, but the bun was toasted and buttery and the chicken wasn’t dry.

“How much do I owe you?” Bitty asked, rooting in his pocket and coming up with nothing but his recipe book.

“You don’t,” Jack said. “I said I’d get lunch.”

Then Bitty was watching Jack walk away again. He was heading to the back, probably trying to find yet another country to order coffee from.

He finished his sandwich and returned Julia’s master work to the shelf where he found it.

Lardo was free again for a moment, so he approached her and said, “D’y’all know you have a first edition Julia Child on the shelf where anyone can get their grubby fingers on it?”

“I didn’t,” she said. “Jack might. He got all the books. But really, if it’s not about history or coffee, he probably doesn’t care. Or hockey. He still cares about hockey.”

Bitty raised a questioning eyebrow.

“He’s good at hockey, like really good,” she said. “Everyone thought he’d go pro, including all the teams who sent scouts to his games. But when he and Shitty finished their last season, and he had like four offers, he turned them all down, immersed himself in the lore of coffee and bought this place.”

“Which serves as a hangout and place of employment for his friends,” Bitty said. “See, I’m pretty sure it’s just me he doesn’t like.”

“No,” Lardo said. “He just has this thing about — I don’t know if protecting people is the right word. He likes to keep people safe. And he did invite you to hang out here.”

Well.That was true, but Jack was probably just being polite. But in Bitty’s experience, boys — men — like Jack didn’t much want boys like Bitty hanging around them, and Jack had already more than satisfied any obligation he had to keep Bitty from freezing to death.

Besides, Bitty wasn’t doing himself any favors by drooling over someone he couldn’t have. He’d take Jack’s advice, wander the town and maybe even the campus for a while, then go back to the Haus and bake. Maybe he could stop at the station and find out what time he’d have to be there to catch the last train out.

He reached in his pocket for his phone before remembering that he didn’t have one anymore. His parents paid for it, so he’d left it behind. Maybe as soon as he stayed somewhere long enough to get a job, he could get one on a pay-as-you-go plan.

No phone meant no map, but Samwell wasn’t so big that he got lost. After an hour of walking, he’d decided that Samwell was a cute little town. Or medium town, but not a city by any stretch of the imagination. The university campus looked like it had been designed to look good in college brochures, and Bitty found all the rainbow-colored signs and flags a little disconcerting. He’d commuted from home to Athens for school for two years, and he’d never seen anything like it. He even had to try not to stare, first at two girls holding hands as they strolled by, and then at a boy kissing another boy on the cheek before heading into a building. Instead, he watched the other people to see how they reacted and … they didn’t. They didn’t even seem to notice.

His life would have been different if he’d come somewhere like this right after high school. Sure, he’d have to tell Mama and Coach the truth eventually, but maybe by then he’d have friends, and a place to go if they didn’t react well.

He did make his way to the train station, which was further than he remembered, and discovered that the last train left at 8:32. That should be enough time to make muffins, scones, cookies … maybe even some mini-pies. If he got back to the coffee shop to ride back with Jack soon.

“Ready?” Jack asked, as soon as Bitty returned.

“Sure,” Bitty said.

“Oh, you left this.”

Jack was holding out Bitty’s recipe book, his only real connection to home.

“My gosh, I can’t believe I didn’t miss that,” Bitty said. “Thanks for keeping it safe.”

“No worries,” Jack said. “I wasn’t sure it was yours, so I looked inside. Those recipes are pretty old, aren’t they? Lots of them don’t even have amounts or anything.”

“I got most of them from my MooMaw,” Bitty said, like that explained everything.

Bitty didn’t get the quick start baking that he wanted to. First Jack insisted on stopping at the grocery to get fresh vegetables and fish for dinner. (“You can’t tell me you usually cook. I saw your kitchen.” “I don’t usually have guests.”) Then he wanted to know what ingredients Bitty needed to bake. Bitty wasn’t really sure, not without consulting his book, but he didn’t want Jack thinking too much about it.

“Um, flour,” he said. “Butter and shortening. Baking powder. Sugar. Maybe some chocolate chips?”

Anything else, well, it would be there if he needed it.

Jack headed upstairs for a nap when they got back to the Haus, and Bitty started baking. He’d only just got the muffins in when Jack clattered back down the stairs to say, “I called Johnson. He’s not sure when he’ll be back, but it won’t be tonight. You can have his bed again.”

“Really, I couldn’t,” Bitty said.

“What?” Jack said, looking at the ingredients spread on the counter. “We didn’t buy vanilla, did we? Or this cinnamon. Where did this come from?”

Bitty shrugged. “It’s your kitchen,” he said. “How about I get some biscuits going and we make dinner?”

That worked, for the moment,

Jack ate as soon as the food was done.

“Shitty’ll be back after he drives Lardo home at eight,” Jack said. “Maybe later, if he stays there. Ransom and Holster usually get back by seven, but they won’t expect dinner.”

“I’m sure there’s enough left,” Bitty said.

“Anyway, I’ll be back about the same time as last night,” Jack said.

As soon as Jack was gone, Bitty worked as fast as he could, turning out enough pastries, muffins and cookies to supply a full bakery counter. He put them on trays, covered them in plastic wrap, and wrote “For Jack” in big letters on paper towels that lay on top. He made a sign that said “For the Haus” to put on the cookies he made that morning, then put on his jacket and slipped out the back door as Ransom and Holster were slipping in the front.

He was pretty sure he could find his way to the station after his afternoon rambles, even if it would be at least an hour’s walk. In the dark, too.

But no one would notice he was gone until Jack, or maybe Shitty, got home, and he should be on the train by then.

Bitty arrived at the station with minutes to spare before the last train. Which was headed south, not where he wanted to go, but needs must. He bought a ticket, spending most of the money he had left, and sat on a bench to wait.

And wait. Because of course the one time he cared how fast he got out of town, the train was late.

Bitty had zoned out staring at the wall, fantasizing about what it would be like to live in Samwell (to even go to school at Samwell University …) when he was roused by pounding feet on the stone floor.

“Bittle!”

It was Jack. But he should have still been at the shop. It was later than this when Bitty made it there the night before.

“Jack? What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Jack returned. “I thought you were going to stay at the Haus.”

Bitty shrugged, looked at Jack, looked away.

“I was done with what I promised,” he said. “And there was no reason to trespass on your hospitality another night.”

“But … there was no reason you wanted to leave?” Jack said. “No one made you uncomfortable or anything, did they? Shitty told me you seemed a little mad at him this morning.”

Lord. This boy. Lardo was probably right — Jack was just awkward,. He really seemed to be trying.

“No,” Bitty said. “I mean yes, Shitty was a little pushy. But it’s not really his fault that I look twelve. And y’all have done more than anyone could expect to make me comfortable. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Then why are you leaving? And you must have spent so much to buy the ingredients for the food you left at the Haus.”

“I really didn’t,” Bitty said. “And I’m sorry, Jack, but I just don’t think it’ll get any easier to leave if I stay longer. Maybe y’all’ve been too nice. But I need to find a place to call home, and delaying it by staying here … It’s not a good idea.”

“Please stay over,” Jack said as the train finally pulled into the station. “So we can talk about it. I’ll drive you here myself tomorrow if you really want to leave, but it sounds like you want to stay.”

“I can’t,” Bitty said. “I don’t have the money for another ticket.”

“I’ll buy one if I have to,” Jack said. “To pay you back for the food. Just, please come back to the Haus with me? Or to the shop for now. There’s something I want to show you.”

Bitty gave a high giggle, because really? Jack had something to show him? Certainly not what Bitty wanted to see, though.

“Not another first edition classic cookbook?”

“Haha, no,” Jack said. “The kitchen. I was thinking — maybe if you stay a while, you could bake there? Make the food for the shop? We haven’t used it since we moved in. You can stay at the Haus. It’s not likely we’ll ever see Johnson again. He said he fulfilled his role in this narrative, whatever that means.”

By the time Jack stopped talking, the train was leaving and Bitty was still on the platform.

“Looks like I missed my train,” he said.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “But maybe … you found a home?”

“I wish it could be,” Bitty said. “But I’d always be wanting what I can’t have.”

“What?” Jack said. “If I know what it is, maybe I can help.”

“Jack, you know I’m gay,” Bitty said.

“Yeah?” Jack said, sounding almost offended. “Did someone give you a problem?”

“No, not here,” Bitty said. “But I learned a long time ago not to fall for a straight boy.”

“Straight boy?” Jack said, looking around like someone else had materialized next to them. “Who?”

Good Lord, Jack was really going to make him say it.

“You, Jack. You’re the straight boy.”

“No, I’m not,” Jack said. “Not straight, I mean.”

He paused.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “You have a crush on me?”

“See, I knew it would be awkward,” Bitty said.

Jack shook his head.

“Come closer,” he said, staring at Bitty’s face.

Bitty took one step closer, then two.

“Can I kiss you?” Jack said. “‘Cause I kind of have a crush on you too.”

#omgcheckplease #omg check please #zimbits bingo #my fic

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monabela · 4 years

Text

here's Tragic Werewolf Story ft the Finno-Ugric trio in which I borrow elements from various werewolf myths to make my own, mostly inspired by Sonata Arctica's Among The Shooting Stars, but honestly, they have a lot of songs about (were)wolves and I'm not convinced the singer isn't a furry (love you Tony). they're still my favorite band. this fic is named after the (non-wolfy) song of the same name! it’s set in the fifties for Some Reason. AND finished just in time for @fuckyeahaphestonia‘s eeweek! for Some Reason :P

Rise a Night

characters: Finland (Tuomi), Hungary (Erzsébet), Estonia (Eduard), and Ukraine (Iryna)

word count: 9541 summary: Six years after his brother’s death, Tuomi returns home, hoping to find some closure. What he and his sister find instead, defies all their expectations.

also on AO3

Eduard has been gone for six years, and Tuomi finally returns home.

He doesn’t think he’s ready, doesn’t think he could ever be, but he thinks it’s time.

As when he left, winter’s veil has cloaked the town. Coming home in another season would have been easier, when maybe every footstep in the snow, every light behind closed curtains, wouldn’t remind him of the night his only brother died. Tuomi has never been one to take the easy route, however. Winter is always going to come eventually, often sooner than expected here in the north; there’s no reason he should sit around and wait for it.

Besides, his half-sister still lives here. He hasn’t seen her since he left the town, and it will be good to be able to hold her again. They wrote, whenever Tuomi lingered in one place long enough, and he called sometimes when he had money to spare for it, but none of that is really a substitute. Two years ago, when Erzsébet got married in the summer, he’d been planning to come, but found that he still couldn’t. He’s only seen her husband in pictures.

Now, Tuomi crunches through the snow and the darkness of the late afternoon to his childhood home, where Erzsébet still lives. The blue walls are still familiar, still painful. It’s inconceivable to him that his sister has managed to stay here after everything, but he supposes he and Erzsébet just have different ways of coping.

When she opens the door, she looks good. A little older, certainly, and not nearly as radiant as in the wedding pictures she’s sent him—even in front of the two empty seats in the front row of the church—but healthy, and happy to see him. Without saying a word, Erzsébet pulls him across the threshold and into her arms, kicking the front door shut behind him while he drops his bag. Her grip is so tight it crushes the air out of Tuomi, but he hugs her back just as tightly, breathing in the scent of cigarette smoke and bread clinging to her blouse.

“It’s so good to see you,” she whispers into his damp coat.

Tuomi closes his eyes. Swallows.

“It’s good to see you too. Sorry it took me so long.”

Life just goes on, even when the last remnants of childhood are ripped away—the remnants no one even knew were left. That’s something Tuomi knows now, if he knows anything.

“Are you hungry?” Erzsébet is asking, already tugging him further into the house. She’s always been the pragmatist.

“Of course I’m hungry,” he replies. “Erzsi, wait, my coat is wet.”

She waits impatiently while he takes the coat off, taking it from him and hanging it up to dry on the door to the living room. The hall is just as narrow as he remembers, but it’s less cluttered now.

In the living room, a fire is crackling in the hearth, and nothing has really changed. Before, Tuomi and Eduard lived here together, while Erzsébet had stayed with their mother in her tiny new home until the day she died. At least, she didn’t have to know her eldest son didn’t make it past the following winter.

The room has a few new pieces of furniture—maybe made by Erzsébet’s husband, who, according to her descriptions of him, enjoys carpentry in his spare time. Speaking of him…

“Is the husband not home?” he asks, turning to his sister and realizing he has been silent for too long. Erzsébet smiles softly, shaking her head.

“He’s out in the forest. I’ll tell you about it later.” Now, she gestures him towards the dining table, and tells him to sit while she gets dinner. The table is new, but the chairs are the same. Tuomi forces himself not to imagine Eduard coming into the room, carrying some book or another and ready to discuss something he heard on the radio today. He’d have loved to see how more and more people are getting a television. Erzsébet doesn’t seem to have one yet, but Eduard’s beloved radio still has a prominent place in the room.

“Do you need a hand?” he calls out, but Erzsébet is already sidling back into the room, carrying a tray with a large pan on it. It smells good, and wafts warm air into Tuomi’s face when she sets it down on the table.

“I’ve got it.”

“I see.” He smiles at her when she sits down as well, handing him a plate and cutlery from the tray.

There is stew in the pot, which is great, mostly because it warms Tuomi’s chilly fingertips and nose. Erzsébet talks about pretty much nothing while they eat—the town gossip, as if he’s only been gone for six days. He appreciates it. It’s not that he doesn’t have things to tell her, but he doesn’t think he can yet. There will be plenty of time to make her laugh with the strange situations he’s found himself in these past years.

“What is your husband doing in the woods?” he does ask, during a lull in her monologue.

“He’s a hunter.”

He knew that, somewhere, but, “It’s not hunting season.”

She sighs. “There’s been some—there have been attacks. Some kind of animal, a wolf or maybe a bear. The winter has been quite harsh so far, so it’s probably getting closer to find food, and that includes our livestock.”

“So they’re going to kill it?”

“If it comes to that.” She shrugs, swiping her hair over her shoulder, although a strand of it catches on her orange blouse. It’s much longer than it was when Tuomi left. “They can’t find anything, so far. Maybe it moved on. There’s a lot of forest.”

Tuomi hopes so.

They sit around talking for a while, until he starts yawning, and Erzsébet insists he should go to bed, she can deal with the dishes herself.

“I wanted to meet your husband,” Tuomi complains, even as he hauls his bag up the stairs to his old bedroom. It’s a guest room now, although some of his old things are still there. He wonders what they’ve done with Eduard’s room. Doesn’t know what would be best.

“We’ll still be married tomorrow, Tuomi. Get some sleep, you’ve had a long day.”

That’s true; there was a train ride, and the ride with a passing stranger, and then the hike up to the town, through the snow and falling darkness.

“Fine, fine, since you insist.” He hugs her again before she heads back downstairs, and he goes to use the bathroom. On his way back to his room, Tuomi stares at the door of Eduard’s bedroom for a long while. He even puts his hand on the handle, but doesn’t go in.

He falls asleep fast, and doesn’t dream at all.

In the morning when he wakes up, it’s already starting to get light outside, which must mean he slept longer than he has in some time. Maybe, being here is doing him some good after all, Tuomi thinks, peering out across the landing. Downstairs, he can hear Erzsébet cluttering around, unsurprisingly still unable to do anything quietly. It’s almost as if he’s a child again and his mother is making lunch during the winter holidays, when the snow was too heavy for anyone to go to school.

After freshening up, Tuomi joins his sister in the living room, where she’s busily writing something down while she bobs her head to the music on the radio.

“Good morning!” She smiles at him. “Did you sleep well?”

“Surprisingly so, yeah.” He looks around conspicuously. “Just you again?”

“Oh, shush, Tuomas, you’ll get to threaten the poor man soon enough.” She laughs, but her expression sobers quickly. “They didn’t find anything in the woods, but there’s been another incident. Remember Iryna? Apparently, some of her chickens were killed last night. She didn’t notice anything.”

Tuomi nods. “How is Iryna?”

She was close to Eduard, too. They used to be in a choir together, but that is a long time ago and already was six years ago. They remained good friends.

“She’s well. I was planning to go visit her, actually, before I get the groceries. You could come if you want.”

That would be nice, so he agrees to come. Since it’s practically noon by now, they have lunch before bundling up and heading out. It hasn’t snowed any more, but the sky is cloudy and threatening, so it most likely will before tomorrow.

Erzsébet points out some things that have changed in the village, where new people have moved in houses that were still empty six years ago, left abandoned during the war. It’s good to see, if wry. The whole town feels wry to Tuomi, oddly disconnected, but it doesn’t hurt as he feared it would.

Iryna is warm as ever, hugging Tuomi close as soon as he and Erzsébet walk into her little shop full of sewing supplies, which hasn’t changed in the slightest. Iryna herself has cut her pale hair shorter, but her kind smile is the same. A little frazzled, but welcoming.

“So good to see you, Tuomi. Are you staying for a while?”

“Of course,” he replies, and he hears Erzsébet sigh behind him. Coming here, he wasn’t sure whether he could stand to stay, but he knows now that he can, and plans on taking up on his sister’s open invitation. “Maybe I can help out. There are always things to do, especially when the winter’s like this.”

“And then there’s that bear,” Iryna sighs.

“Why do you think it’s a bear?” Erzsébet asks.

“The door of the shed was torn open,” she explains, while they follow her behind the counter and into her actual house. “As far as I know, no wolf or anything else can do that.”

“Wolves are pretty smart.” Erzsébet cocks her head. “But it does seem more likely that a bear woke up too early and is grumpy now.”

“Maybe you can help with taking care of that, Tuomi.”

“I’m not much of a hunter,” he says, accepting the cup of tea Iryna hands him. “Thank you.”

She smiles. “Just as well. Actually, if you don’t mind, you could help me patch up the shed.”

“Sure, of course!” He is always happiest when he can do something useful with his hands, not unlike Erzsébet. Although Eduard was handy as well, he was more of a studious type than either of them. It still stings that the most cautious one of the three of them—the only cautious one, if you’d have asked their mother—should die alone in the woods.

No one knows, really, what happened that night. Tuomi remembers blood like auburn rivers in the snow. Shreds of Eduard’s favorite coat, the green one. Some pale hair, just lying there as if left in the drain, nearly invisible on the frozen ground. No one ever found Eduard’s body. At least, not all of it. Tuomi’s stomach turns every time he thinks of the grave that’s almost empty. They survived the war, all of them, and then…

He puts his cup down on the table and turns to Iryna.

“Where’s this shed? I’ll see what I can do.”

The woman bites her lip, eyebrows drawing together, but, with a glance at Erzsébet, stands and leads him out to her backyard, pointing at the shed.

“I had to put the chickens back in the coop,” she explains, shivering and pulling the sleeves of her cardigan down, “but it’s cold, so I’d like to have them back inside tonight.”

Tuomi surveys the door, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat. It shouldn’t be too hard to fix; the lock has broken off, but it’s still in one piece, just like the hinges. He asks Iryna if she has any tools he can use, and waits while she goes to get them.

“Bears don’t eat chickens, do they?” she asks when she comes back, pensive.

“Bears will eat anything when pressed, honestly.” He takes the tools. “I’ll be done in… Fifteen minutes?”

Iryna smiles and clasps his shoulder on her way back to her house, the snow crunching under her boots. Tuomi sets to work putting the lock back. It has been cleanly broken off the door; there are barely even any splinters. That must have been one delicate bear.

With anyone else, Tuomi would wonder if they didn’t do it themselves, faked an attack to get some attention, but Iryna can’t possibly have changed so much in six years that she would stoop to that.

It doesn’t even take ten minutes before the shed can be locked again. Tuomi tries the door a couple of times, and checks inside that there is no debris. He finds hay, and bloodstains in the dirt, and is thinking about the restraint this supposed bear showed by not just ripping all the chickens to shreds, when he spots something light in the corner of the shed, stuck on the edge of an old table the chickens must use to roost now.

He frowns, reaching for it.

It’s hair. Fur. He rubs the coarse lock of hair between his fingers, still furrowing his brow. Do bears get grey as they age? Maybe they do, he decides, but certainly not this light of a grey. Some of the hairs are practically white.

“Iryna,” he calls, walking back into her house.

“Tuomi! Is it fixed?” She hands him his still warm tea back as soon as he enters the kitchen, where Erzsébet is reading some kind of magazine.

“Yes, no problems. But I don’t think it was a bear.”

“No?”

He opens his free hand to show her the patch of fur, and Iryna cocks her head. Erzsébet stands up to take a look, and sighs.

“Better get another lock, Iryna. Wolves will stop at nothing.”

After saying goodbye to Iryna, Tuomi helps Erzsébet pick up groceries and tells her about the time he almost ended up marrying a woman during his travels, completely on accident.

“How was I supposed to know that man was actually an ordained minister?” he asks, and Erzsébet is laughing too much to attempt an answer, leaning her hands on the kitchen counter, shoulders shaking.

“It sounds like you have enough stories for the next six years,” she says, eventually. Tuomi bites his lip and focuses on the potato he’s peeling.

“I might,” he mumbles.

“Eduard would have loved to hear them.” She slants a soft smile his way.

Tuomi knows. All three of them love a good story. It’s something their parents instilled in them.

“Do you ever visit his grave?” he asks Erzsébet. She leans back against the counter after putting the potatoes on to boil.

“I do, but not…” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I keep it tidy, because you know Ed, that’s what he’d have done, but it’s not… A special place, not in the way Mom and Dad’s graves are, or my father’s.”

Nodding, Tuomi touches the back of her hand, and she smiles gently.

“It is hard sometimes, Tuomi, living here. I understand why you left.”

“I understand why you stayed,” he replies. Tomorrow, he decides, he’ll go to visit his parents’ graves.

For now, they switch to lighter topics, laughing over dinner and finding a photo album to look at during the evening while the radio crackles in the background. When Erzsébet’s husband does eventually come home, he looks so exhausted that Tuomi just greets him and then lets him be on his way, watching him stumble up the stairs. The winter doesn’t tend to be forgiving, and he gets that.

Erzsébet frowns and retires as well, bringing some leftovers with her. Tuomi sits in the living room for a while longer, digging his toes into the carpet and listening to the radio in the light of the frozen moon. He imagines when he turns it off, that he can hear a howl in the wind, but there’s nothing but a rustle in the trees in the garden.

They shovel snow the next day before anyone can even leave the house, Erzsébet’s husband smoking continuously throughout, almost nervously.

“Are you alright?” Tuomi asks him, raising his eyebrows.

“Me?” He leans on his shovel. “Just worried about the wolf.”

Tuomi nods. That’s fair. It must be stressful, having the expectations of the whole town resting on your shoulders. The man is gone quickly afterwards, just a small dark speck in the snowy town. Erzsébet stands in the doorway and looks after him, pulling her shawl around her shoulders and smoking a cigarette as well.

“He’s so wound up about it,” she tells Tuomi. “I hope they find something soon.”

He puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her back into the warm house.

“I’m sure they will. They’re hunters, it’s what they do.”

“Not professionally,” she replies, but drops it. “You wanted to go visit Mom and Dad today, isn’t it? They’d have hated this weather.”

“I really wondered why we always stayed in the north.”

Before they can do that, Erzsébet runs some errands, and Tuomi tries to read a book between wandering restlessly through the house. When they finally go outside and start making their way to the graveyard, he offers his sister his arm. There are children playing out in the streets, enthusiastically lobbing snowballs at each other and trying to grab each other’s sleds. Some of them wave at Erzsébet, who waves back and tells Tuomi she helps out at the local school sometimes, mostly cleaning and looking after the children during lunches.

“I suppose it’s a way of continuing what Eduard started,” she says, waiting while Tuomi pushes the graveyard’s gate open. “You know, teaching people. I’m not as smart as he was, but still…”

“You’re plenty smart.”

“I’m not saying I’m not. I’m just saying Ed was smarter. That’s not a secret.” She closes the gate behind herself and stares out across the silent graveyard next to Tuomi. Like this, covered in snow and illuminated by the setting sun, it’s like they’re watching a miniature landscape. The monuments are tiny hills and the trees watch over everything as if holding the sky up.

As they walk silently to the edge of the graveyard, snow starts falling again, gently fluttering down and sticking in Erzsébet’s dark hair and to Tuomi’s coat. Across the field, where the forest begins, the shadows seem as though they are dotted with stars.

They stop, and Erzsébet reaches over to brush the snow off their parents’ headstone. Her father is buried on a military cemetery elsewhere, but his name is inscribed on their mother��s grave as well. She was widowed twice.

It’s still strange to Tuomi that Erzsébet is all he has now, that his whole family is just her.

Well, he has a brother-in-law, he supposes, and he seems like a nice man.

A dark shape emerges out of the snow, and both of them duck on instinct as a large black bird soars overhead. It lands silently on a headstone just across the path, feet sinking into the snow. The raven blinks at them, tilting its small head while snow slowly falls on black wings.

“That’s…” Erzsébet whispers, taking a step forward. “That’s Eduard’s grave. I think I’ve seen that bird before, around here.”

The raven squawks and spreads its wings to fly off again. It circles over Tuomi’s head before disappearing into the snow and falling darkness.

“I think it lives here,” Erzsébet says. She tugs the brim of her hat over her eyes to shield them. “But it’s nice to think—”

The bird soars back, landing on Eduard’s headstone again.

“That maybe, it’s watching over Ed,” she finishes. “I wonder if it’s hungry.”

But Tuomi isn’t listening to her. He’s watching the raven, whose beady eyes seem fixed on him. Underneath its feet, he can just make out Eduard’s name, the cold dates marking his whole life. He was only 27.

“Tuomi?” Erzsébet whispers.

The raven takes off again. Tuomi runs after it.

“Tuomi!”

He can hear her hurry after him. Ahead, the raven sits on the last headstone at the edge of the graveyard. As soon as Tuomi catches up with it, the bird soars into the shadows of the forest. The moon is barely up, and although it is nearly full, it doesn’t light his way as he hurries into the dark.

“Tuomas Mets!” Erzsébet hisses, even as she continues to follow him. “What are you doing?”

He shushes her, squinting into the trees to try and find the raven. It seemed… Important. Tuomi isn’t a man who believes in superstitions, no matter what he saw during the war, on his travels, so it’s not that he thinks this bird… Is watching over Eduard, like Erzsébet said, or anything like that, but it seemed so imploring. Maybe it just needs help. The winter is hard.

A tug on the sleeve of his coat. Tuomi follows Erzsébet’s gaze to where the raven has landed on a snowy log. He takes a step toward the bird.

In the next moment, it takes off again, and a large, light shape hurtles out of the shadows. Erzsébet curses, letting go of Tuomi as she stumbles back.

The wolf growls low in its throat while the raven settles in a tree above it. With slow, measured steps, the wolf crosses the space between the trees, its paws soundless on the ground and its green eyes burning through the darkened night.

Tuomi knows that color.

He would know it anywhere, even after six years. After ten, twenty. It will haunt him for the rest of his life. Slowly, and almost detachedly, he kneels in the snow.

“Tuomi!” Erzsébet hisses. The raven calls.

But the wolf is silent, standing still and looking at Tuomi, who doesn’t dare blink, afraid of losing the moment. For the first time in six years, he can see his brother’s eyes, the peculiar sea green, like part of the northern lights.

“Eduard,” he whispers, reaching out.

The wolf turns, and runs into the darkness. When Tuomi wants to leap up and follow, Erzsébet is there, hauling him back with both of her arms around his waist and her breathing harsh in his ear.

The raven circles over them once before flying into the forest, and Tuomi swears, sagging into his sister.

“Tuomi, are you insane?” she hisses. Before he can even think of how to answer that, she’s dragging him back through the graveyard, icily quiet. They don’t stop once before they reach the gate.

“What just happened?” Erzsébet then asks, leaning against the snow-covered fence and pushing her gloved hands against her face. Snow glistens in her hair in the light of a street lantern. “You could have been hurt, Tuomi.”

“I’m not sure.” He breathes out heavily, watching a cloud form in front of his face. Did she hear him say Eduard’s name? Did the wolf hear him? He knew those eyes. He knows he did.

“Let’s go home,” she sighs, linking her arm through his. Now, Tuomi is sure he hears a howl in the woods behind them, and a large black bird soars ahead.

Neither of them tells Erzsébet’s husband about the encounter with the wolf.

Tuomi has uneasy dreams, and come morning, he feels a familiar itch, an urge to leave. He can’t. He’s here now, and he’s run away enough.

“Where are you going?” Erzsébet asks, leaning against the doorpost of the living room while he puts his coat on in the hall. She wearing pants today, which he can’t recall having seen her do before, although she might have during the war. He wasn’t here, then.

“I don’t know. I might see how Iryna’s doing.” He smiles slightly, trying to look reassuring, and Erzsébet nods with a sigh.

“Well, be careful.”

“Of course not,” he jokes. She raises her eyebrows, and he bites his lip. “Of course I will, Erzsi.”

Tuomi walks through the sunny, snow-covered village, stopping to talk to some locals when they recognize him and pushing an excitable little boy down a slope on his homemade sled. Really, it’s good to see that the town is doing well again. It lifts his spirits.

At the town hall, or what passes for it, he spots a poster warning people to be careful after dark, and definitely not let their children out unsupervised. There’s a little map of the area, with Iryna’s house and several other locations across town marked as where there have been attacks the past few weeks.

It must be a very smart wolf, because the sites move from one end to the village from one attack to the next, effectively leading the hunters on a wild goose chase.

Eduard was smart, Tuomi catches himself thinking. He always thought ahead.

He knew those eyes.

Behind him, his name is called.

“Hey, Tuomi,” Erzsébet’s husband says, walking over to him with his hat pulled low over his eyes against reflecting sunlight, his green coat flying out behind him. “Erzsébet says you forgot your scarf.”

He laughs, and takes the scarf when the man gives it to him.

“Are you two very sure you don’t want children?” he asks, and gets a dry laugh in response.

“Believe me, not exactly father material.” He waves, and starts in the direction of the forest. Tuomi unfurls the scarf, and is surprised when something flutters out of it, landing gently in the snow.

A single black father rests by his feet. Slowly, he picks it up. Turns it over between his fingers. When he looks over his shoulder, his brother-in-law is long gone from view.

“Great,” he whispers.

Without really deciding to do so, Tuomi goes back to the graveyard. The church bells ring noon when he reaches his brother’s grave and pushes the snow off to lay the feather down on top of the cold headstone.

Eduard Mets, 1920-1948

It doesn’t mean anything, not really, but his knees give out all of a sudden, so he kneels on the stone edge of the grave, the sun warming his face and trying to pierce through his closed eyelids. He doesn’t feel the cold snow seeping through his pants or crawling into his gloves to chill his fingertips. Not for the first time, he wonders what the hell he’s supposed to do in a place without Eduard. What he’s been doing, these past six years. Drifting, he thinks. Helplessly drifting.

A gentle hand lands on his shoulder, and doesn’t have to open his eyes to know it’s Erzsébet.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t.” With a rush of cold air, she crouches next to him, and now, Tuomi glances her way. “I just want to make sure you don’t catch your death.”

“Your husband brought me my scarf.” He looks at the single feather sitting on top of the headstone.

“Good. I’ve lost enough people.”

“We all have,” Tuomi says quietly. “But I think I was right to come back, Erzsi. You’re not losing me.”

She smiles at him, familiar green eyes crinkling ever more at the corners, then straightens.

“I’m going back home. Are you coming?”

With a last look at the cold, unyielding stone of Eduard’s grave, Tuomi nods. His chilled joints protest as he stands, and he grimaces at his sister.

“You’re not the one who’s almost forty, little brother,” she chides him, and he can’t help but grin, even as he realizes that Eduard would have been 34 in just a few days. Maybe, they should do something for his birthday. He’ll have to ask Erzsébet.

As they approach their childhood home, Tuomi’s gaze catches on an upstairs window, where a blue curtain flutters in the still air.

“Hey, Erzsébet?”

“Hm?” She pulls at the cord hanging out of the mail slot to open the front door.

“What have you done with Eduard’s room?”

“Nothing much.” She follows his gaze upwards. Frowns. “I definitely didn’t open the window.”

Inside, Tuomi rattles up the stairs, and is already pushing the door handle of Eduard’s bedroom down when he hesitates. He turns to Erzsébet as she climbs the stairs behind him.

Without being asked, she says, “I clean it a few times a year, and we’ve got some of his old books stored, but we don’t… We don’t really go in there.”

With a deep breath, Tuomi pushes the handle down again, and slowly opens the door.

It’s cold in the room, and silent. Eduard’s bed stands, bare but largely covered in books, underneath the open window. He liked to watch the stars, the northern lights when they appeared. He’d always been a dreamer, in his rare free time. No one ever expected that of him, but the only thing greater about Eduard than his intelligence was his imagination.

Erzsébet is walking over and shutting the window, a frown on her face. The latch seems very secure.

“I don’t know how—” She cuts herself off. Tuomi watches with his heart jumping into his throat as she lifts a glossy black feather from the windowsill, holding it between her thumb and index finger. They’re both silent. Of course, this doesn’t mean anything. It can’t.

And still, after yesterday…

“You’ve brough something very odd back to town, Tuomi,” Erzsébet says.

“Maybe it was waiting for me.”

Closing her eyes, she puts the feather back down and presses her hands over her angular face.

“Yesterday, in the woods… What did you see?”

Tuomi’s gaze drifts over to a picture on Eduard’s desk. All three of them, posing in summer clothes with their mother. He remembers the day it was taken. The second summer after the war, everyone just happy to bask in the sunshine.

“I saw his eyes, Erzsébet.”

“He’s dead,” she whispers, then swallows hard. Clenches her fingers around the black feather, crushing it out of shape. “And even if he isn’t, he can’t be… That’s old folk tales. It’s the twentieth century.”

Tuomi would agree with her, but he knew those eyes. She doesn’t know the things he saw during the war, during the past six years. There are remnants of times long gone everywhere, old beliefs still lingering between radios and televisions.

Or maybe he just wants to believe that he can see Eduard again, and it was a mistake to come back home.

“What now?” Erzsébet asks. “Whatever this is, we must be able to figure it out. We owe that to Ed.”

“You’re right. He would have.” Of course, Eduard was the planner, but they’re both smart. Tuomi is certain that, if there is something to find, they will find it. For better or for worse.

After dinner, he has his coat on before Erzsébet is done putting the dishes away, and she grumbles, good-naturedly if a little forced, while he waits for her to bundle up as well. The evening is clear, and the moon is already up, nearly full and lighting their way to the south side of the village, the opposite side of where they were yesterday.

“Haven’t the hunters noticed the pattern?” Tuomi wonders, waving his clouding breath away so he can see the path in front of him. The snow is largely undisturbed here. The air sparkles above it.

“Haven’t heard about it.” Through her shawl, Erzsébet sounds muffled. “It’s unlikely, so they wouldn’t look.”

Again, Tuomi thinks, Eduard was always the planner.

Over the crunch of their shoes in the snow, he hears a hoarse call, the familiar caw of a raven.

“We must be going in the right direction,” he whispers. They’re on the edge of the forest, the evergreen of trees a looming black mass in the darkened evening. Even with the moonlight, the forest floor is dark. Erzsébet just hums. She tucks her hand into the crook of Tuomi’s elbow. In her dark coat and with her pale face mostly covered by her shawl and hat, she’ll be nearly invisible.

After standing still for a moment longer, she starts walking again decisively, leaving Tuomi no choice but to go into the woods as well.

Both silent again, they peer searchingly into the darkness as the trees close around them.

Once more, he hears the raven call, and he squints uselessly up in an effort to spot it. Erzsébet yanks at his arm when he nearly trips.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, sheepishly.

“Try to be careful.” She stops, and Tuomi glances at her, watching her dark eyebrows furrow. He follows her gaze into the shadows, preparing to ask a question, but falls silent.

In the snow, one shadow seems larger than the others.

No, it’s not a shadow. Tuomi shudders and pulls his sister closer to him. He remembers this. The blood-soaked snow of six winters ago still burns in his memory.

“It was here,” Erzsébet whispers. “The wolf.”

And then, it is there again. Piercing eyes burn through the shadows like a white-hot knife and Tuomi can’t move—refuses to move, even when Erzsébet jumps back, pulling on his arm. Ahead of them, the wolf growls low in its throat, baring teeth that glint in the moonlight. With shaking hands, Tuomi lets go of his sister to take a step forward. She doesn’t say anything, and the wolf doesn’t move, sea green eyes unblinking on Tuomi.

“Please,” he whispers, taking another step, “don’t run this time. We’re here.”

The wolf’s muzzle twitches, a small growl escaping, but it doesn’t move.

“I left, but I’m back,” Tuomi continues. Like before, he kneels, slowly, deliberately. He is the only thing moving in the small clearing. Even the trees seem silent.

“I’m not leaving again.”

With a snarl, the wolf leaps. Strong paws knock the breath out of Tuomi as he sprawls back in the snow, the wolf looming over him. Its breath is heavy and warm, and it presses Tuomi down, growling through its teeth.

“Tuomi!” Erzsébet gasps. He can’t look at her, can’t look away from the ever-familiar sea green piercing into him, but he hears her continue in something that’s barely a whisper, “He’s… Eduard, if—if you can hear me, if you understand me… We’re here, we’re both here, so please. Give us a chance.”

The wolf makes an almost plaintive noise, like a kicked dog, and scrambles away, off Tuomi, who grabs Erzsébet’s hand to help himself up, then immediately leaps after the wolf, into the shadows. Swearing, Erzsébet follows him.

Tuomi tries desperately not to lose sight of the flash of grey fur ahead of him, skidding through the snow. Branches slap into his face, showering him with powdery snow, but he doesn’t allow himself to notice. His lungs are burning by the time he bursts into another clearing. The wolf is already on the other side.

“Eduard!” Tuomi calls, and just as the wolf stops, he trips. With nothing to stop him, he falls face-first into the snow, hitting his forehead on a rock hidden underneath. Stars dance in his vision, the shock of cold and pain overwhelming him for a long moment.

It's too much, all of a sudden. He wants nothing more than to stay there until things go back to the way they were before. The way they were six years ago.

“Get up, you—” Erzsébet swears again, and then she hauling Tuomi out of the snow by his armpits, her strength somehow still managing to surprise him after all this time.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed, Tuomas?”

Tuomi looks up at her, startled by the edge of desperation in her voice.

“The wolf—” he starts, and his sister shakes him.

“It’s not the wolf I’m worried about” In the moonlight, her green eyes shimmer with tears. “I thought I was the reckless one, but you’re… Tuomi, what the hell have you done to yourself these past six years?”

“Erzsi,” he whispers, barely able to part his freezing lips. “Eduard is…”

“I know, Tuomi. I saw it.” Her fingers dig into his shoulders. “But he wouldn’t want you to be so… Goddamn reckless. You’re not worth more than he is. And, I think… If I lose you, if we lose you, then there’s no hope for him. Do you understand?”

Teeth clattering, he nods. With a sigh, Erzsébet unfurls her shawl and drapes it around his neck.

“Nothing makes sense here, but I know we’re in it together, if I know anything.” At the call of a raven, she looks up, squinting into the darkness. “There’s something there.”

Tugging her shawl tighter around himself, Tuomi turns to follow her gaze. Between the trees on the other side of the clearing, he can make out a large, dark shape. A building?

“What…” he breathes. Erzsébet squeezes his shoulder, and he looks back at her. “Should we…”

“You need to get out of the cold before your nose freezes off, so yes.”

Before he can reply, she has started marching across the clearing and towards the darkened, run-down cabin, so he follows quickly.

The door isn’t locked, and Erzsébet ushers him in before closing it behind him.

It is marginally warmer inside. Tuomi squints into the darkness and finds the smoldering embers of a dying fire glowing in the corner of the room. He listens, shushing Erzsébet when she starts to speak, but the cabin is silent.

Still, “Someone was here recently.”

“Is that someone still here?” Erzsébet, ever the pragmatist, asks.

“I don’t think so.” As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he makes out the shape of an old oil lamp on a table by the window. Watching his footing, he makes his way over and lights it easily, casting a soft glow over the room. Erzsébet blinks in the light, then looks around.

“What is this place?” she breathes. Tuomi has to agree with her.

The cabin is sparsely furnished, with a bed, table and chair, and a single cabinet next to the door. It is obviously lived in, but feels, more than anything else, like a place to hide.

When Tuomi takes a step forward, he notices that his oil lamp casts odd shadows on the floor, and he shifts the light to get a better look.

There are gouges in the wood, splinters sticking up every which way. The door isn’t much better, and he is reminded of Iryna’s shed. The patterns are the same.

“Tuomi?” Erzsébet says, holding the door of the cabinet open with trembling fingers. “I think…”

He walks over to her, and feels his blood run cold.

“I always wondered where that photograph went,” she whispers, reaching into the cabinet to pick up the shattered frame sitting at the back of one of the shelves. She runs her fingertips across the familiar shape of their mother’s face, faded with age. In this shot, Erzsébet herself has her arms firmly crossed, and Tuomi is looking away from the camera. He remembers seeing something unusual out of the corner of his eye, and so quickly after the war, everything unexpected startled him.

Eduard looks amused, towering over all of them as he always did. His tall form catches all the sun. At the place where his shoulder meets Tuomi’s, there is a tear in the photograph, as if that part was ripped off but eventually put back.

“What does this mean?” Erzsébet asks, putting the picture back down. There is some food in the cabinet, mostly cans, and a meager stack of clothes. Green, and blue. Eduard’s favorite colors.

“I think it means…” He can’t say it, steps back, head pounding.

“We have to do something,” Erzsébet says softly. “There must be a way.”

Tuomi takes another step back.

“It’s been six years—”

“It’s been six years, and you’re back home.”

That’s exactly what he was afraid of. Putting the lamp down, Tuomi runs back into the night.

“Tuomi!” Erzsébet calls, her footsteps thundering after him, but he doesn’t stop, not until he reaches the edge of the forest and he almost trips into the road, caught at the last moment by familiar gloved hands.

For a second, the green coat makes his breath catch, and he can barely look up. It’s just his brother-in-law, smelling like cigarette smoke.

“Tuomi, look out,” he starts, but Tuomi wrenches himself away, tripping back again—only to find that Erzsébet has caught up to him.

“What the hell are you doing?” she shouts. “We have to do something!”

“Erzsébet, not—” He turns around, but her husband is gone. Tuomi blinks. He was there, wasn’t he?

“Not what? You’re here now, and we have to—”

“That’s just it!” he bursts out. “I’m here now! I wasn’t here for the past six years, because I ran away, like a coward! I abandoned Eduard! I abandoned everything.”

“No one blames you—”

“I do, Erzsébet,” he says, hoarsely. “I always have, but now…”

“How do you think I feel?” she asks, grasping his shoulders with that firm grip of hers. “I was here all along, and I never once helped him. I mourned him, and, god, have I been angry at him, at you, but I wish I could have helped.”

“You couldn’t have known,” he tells her, knowing as he says it what she will reply.

“Nor could you, Tuomi.”

He closes his eyes, hanging his head, and Erzsébet rests her forehead against his.

“We’re going to help him.” She clenches his shoulders. “I promise.”

A tear rolls hotly down his freezing cheek, but Tuomi ignores it to pull back and look at his sister.

“I promise,” she repeats. “Let’s go home.”

They go home, and Tuomi tries to sleep for hours, tossing and turning and staring into the shadows of his now-unfamiliar childhood bedroom, the moonlight catching on the edges of furniture that wasn’t there before like an alien landscape.

He thinks about the cabin in the forest, the grooves like claw marks in the wood. About living in fear of yourself for six years. He wishes it could have been him. Anyone but Eduard.

Eventually, he must fall asleep, but wakes when the night is just fading to dawn. He thinks he might have heard a noise, and when he looks out of his window, there is an unfamiliar shadow in the snowy garden. It is gone in the blink of an eye.

Tuomi knows he won’t be able to sleep again, so he gets dressed quietly and walks to the landing, avoiding the floorboards that are creaky on muscle memory alone. Eduard was always a light sleeper. Is a light sleeper? Tuomi sighs and puts his hand against his brother’s bedroom door.

“Sorry, Eduard,” he mumbles, and then there’s that noise again, just behind the door. Like… A shuffle. A breath. Tuomi’s heart skips a beat.

“Erzsébet?” he whispers, but he can hear her snoring lightly down the hall, so it can’t be.

The noise again.

“Eduard?”

Nothing. With trembling hands, he pushes the door open.

The blue curtain flutters in a soft, cold breeze, swinging into the empty room.

“God—fuck!” Tuomi clenches his jaw. Of course. What was he thinking? He slams the window shut, leaning on the sill heavily for a moment, trying to catch his breath with his eyes closed.

“Tuomi?” His sister’s voice is soft behind him.

“Sorry, Erzsi,” he grits out. Taking a deep breath of the frigid air, he forces himself to relax when she puts a warm hand between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t be.”

In the reflection in the window, Tuomi meets her tired eyes.

“You didn’t sleep well either?”

“Of course not.” She smiles tightly when he turns to her. “I keep thinking about Ed. It’s like when he just…” Her words trail off, and she evidently doesn’t know what to say.

“Yes.” Tuomi glances at the desk, the photograph, and his breath hitches all over again. “Erzsébet.”

She turns.

“No…”

There is a knife, on the desk, its handle tilted to the left as if the person who put it there was left-handed. Like Eduard. The metal is unblemished, shining like moonlight, and the edges sharp.

“How… Who…” Erzsébet wraps her arms around her herself, but Tuomi reaches for the knife, slowly. It’s cold in his hand.

“Silver,” he says.

There is no indication where the knife might have come from, no note or engraving or even a fingerprint. Tuomi turns to the window and looks at the retreating moon.

“No, Eduard,” he says. “You underestimate us.”

“What do we do?” Erzsébet is asking. “He won’t be at the cabin, he’s smarter than that.”

“Then we look.” Like they did six years ago, when he went missing.

Tuomi puts the knife back down, and turns to the wardrobe. There is one coat inside still, Eduard’s nice coat, the one he wore to their mother’s funeral, the one they would have buried him in if there had been enough of him to bury. It was already terrifying to think of what happened to him, that day in the forest, but now, knowing he survived, it’s somehow more harrowing to think about. How did he recover? Was the wolf his salvation, or was that what tore him apart in the first place?

“He must know,” he says, “that we’d never stop looking.”

“We’ll remind him, Tuomi.”

“Not to interrupt—”

Erzsébet nearly whacks her husband in the face with how fast she whips around at the sound of his voice. He jumps back, unlit cigarette falling from between his lips.

“What’s going on?” he asks, and he takes a step into the room, his eyes widening at the sight of the knife on the desk.

“We were… It’s almost Eduard’s birthday,” Erzsébet stammers. “It’s… On our minds.”

“Of course.” He takes a step back this time. “I have to go.”

“Hey…” Erzsébet reaches for him, and he takes her hand. “Be careful, please. The wolf is out there.”

“Of course.” He meets Tuomi’s eyes for a charged second. “Don’t worry.”

He kisses her once, picks up his cigarette, and is gone again.

“He’s strange, isn’t he?” Tuomi asks, and Erzsébet laughs, surprised.

“I’ve always had a type.”

Feeling a little lighter despite himself, Tuomi follows her downstairs, taking Eduard’s coat with him. It smells musty, but is still somehow comforting, so he tugs it on after breakfast, when they go out without a clear destination in mind. He wouldn’t have fit it six years ago, but he has lost all the weight he put on after the war since then, and although the sleeves are long, it feels nice.

“You look more like him than when you two were younger,” Erzsébet says thoughtfully, and he smiles, offering her his arm.

They walk over to Iryna’s first, where Iryna compliments Tuomi’s coat and tells them she hasn’t heard of any new incidents in town.

“Maybe it did move on,” she muses. Tuomi and Erzsébet share a look. That is an option, he thinks, but then shakes his head. If Eduard stayed around here all these years, he surely wouldn’t leave now.

Then again, sometimes all it takes to make a difference is one experience, one person.

They have to find him.

“We’ll see you again soon, Iryna,” he says, pulling Erzsébet along while she waves at Iryna.

They spend most of the morning wandering around the edge of town, and then Tuomi spots the local library-cum-bookstore and has to go and look at the books on myths and legends while Erzsébet goes to get something to eat at home. She brings him back some bread while he reads about wolfmen and werewolves, and she waves at the bookstore owner too. He always liked Tuomi.

Well, he liked Eduard, and Tuomi was inevitable, at that point.

The books are… Inconclusive. He doesn’t know what he expected. Of course there is no consensus on something that isn’t supposed to exist.

“Now, you really look like him,” Erzsébet says, looking over his shoulder.

“Eduard would have fifty more books and you know it.” He closes the one in front of him. “It’s no use. We have to find him.”

There is no sign of Eduard anywhere, and they don’t see the ubiquitous raven either, not even at the graveyard. By the time evening is falling, Tuomi wonders if they should have gone to the cabin after all, but he’s also very hungry and very cold, and it’s starting to snow again, so they go back home to eat dinner.

Erzsébet’s husband, looking bedraggled and somehow sorry, wanders in halfway through and barely eats anything before announcing he’s going to sleep. Erzsébet stares after him, forehead creased.

“Stranger than usual?” Tuomi asks.

“Yes. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

She bites her lip. “He’s a grown man. Eduard is more important now.”

Tuomi touches her shoulder, but doesn’t say anything else.

Despite the snow, gently falling, they go out again, Tuomi still wearing his brother’s coat. The moon is full tonight. Some of the stories he read claimed the phases of the moon affect the wolf. He hopes that isn’t true. Eduard has seen a thousand moons or more, the past six years, but something of him is left. A fire deep inside. Tuomi means to wake it, because if anyone can, it’s him and Erzsébet.

It feels like the how is still miles away when they hear it, but it pulls on Tuomi, cuts through the snowy night.

“Let’s go,” Erzsébet says, and they hurry to the forest. Still, the raven is nowhere to be seen. Maybe, its work is done.

The forest is silent, pine trees like looming giants protecting their secrets. Neither Tuomi nor Erzsébet speaks. They listen. Their own footsteps crunch gently, but there is a woolly silence all around them. Sometimes, Tuomi spots something grey out of the corner of his vision, but it’s always snow.

Until it isn’t.

The wolf, the same wolf, leaps out, teeth bared in a snarl, shaking its head as if preparing to pounce.

Tuomi slows his pace but doesn’t stop walking. Erzsébet does. The wolf growls as he nears, snapping its jaw at him. Its light fur is stained with something, the color unclear in the darkness. Erzsébet takes a few steps forward.

Reaching his hand out, Tuomi gets his gloved fingers close enough that the wolf could bite them, if it wanted. It doesn’t. It stands there, frozen, and Tuomi can’t take the look in those familiar eyes. He kneels again.

“I’m back,” he says softly. He can’t bring himself to say his brother’s name, this time, afraid the wolf might run. “I’ll come back as often as it takes. I promise.”

The wolf shakes its head again, flinging snow off the fur.

“Me as well,” Erzsébet says, resting her fingertips on Tuomi’s shoulder. “And you know us. We’re stubborn as anything. Got that from Mom.”

“Please,” Tuomi says, reaching further forward. The wolf cautiously watches them both, those sea green eyes so unmistakably intelligent. He takes his hand back to remove his glove, then offers his fingers again, swallowing nervously. Erzsébet’s hand clenches on his shoulder, through the coat.

When the wolf nudges its cold nose against his fingertips, Tuomi makes an involuntary sound in his throat that has the animal looking up, lips already curling back for a growl, so he speaks quickly.

“You’re cold,” he says. “You never liked the cold, just like Mom and Dad. I had to bring so much firewood in to keep you warm.”

The wolf if still. Tuomi takes his coat—Eduard’s coat—off with measured movements. Erzsébet takes a breath.

“I still can’t smell the wood stove burning without thinking of you.” She huffs a nervous little laugh. “Even Mom thought it was too hot at a certain point, and that was rare.”

Tuomi has managed to get out of the coat, and he holds his fingers out again.

“It will be alright,” he whispers. “I promise, Eduard.”

Before the wolf can do anything, he drapes the coat around its haunches. For a moment, it stares up at him in confusion, green eyes wide, and Tuomi is convinced this was all for nothing, that his brother is gone forever, but then, the wolf curls in on itself with an ear-piercing howl of pain, and he has to hold Erzsébet back from lunging for it while it disappears almost completely beneath the coat’s blue fabric.

In the stillness of the forest, the sound is agonizing. The howl only barely manages to be louder than an awful popping, like bones snapping, like something tearing itself apart right before their eyes. Erzsébet hauls Tuomi up and clenches his cold hand painfully, breathing hard.

It stops, suddenly, and the silence is deafening.

Tuomi takes a step forward.

There is a flash of movement, but it isn’t in his direction. It’s away from him.

And for the first time in six years, he sees his brother’s face, those green eyes and his pale skin, fair hair matted as he scrambles away.

“Eduard,” Tuomi says, and Erzsébet is the only thing holding him up when his knees threaten to give out under the relief and sadness and anger all welling up inside him.

Eduard’s eyes, those eyes, are wide and terrified, and he falls into the snow when he tries to get up, pulling his coat tight around his skinny form. Although he is wearing tattered denim jeans, his feet are bare.

“What’s happening?” he stutters, his voice hoarse and panicked. “How is this—”

When he finally meets Tuomi’s eye, Tuomi manages to take a step in his direction, and Eduard just looks, terrified.

“Eduard.”

“No, no. Get away!” He curls in on himself, violent shivers coursing through his body. “This can’t be real. Leave me alone!”

“It’s us, Eduard,” Erzsébet says, her voice thick with emotion.

He tries to get up but falls again, and this time, both Tuomi and Erzsébet rush forward to catch him. He jerks in their grip, his skin ice cold. His face is gaunt and haunted, and his breathing fast.

“You don’t understand,” he whispers, shaking. Erzsébet begins unwinding her scarf. “I’m… I can’t.”

His fingers dig into Tuomi’s arm through his sweater.

“I understand you’re scared.” Tuomi watches his brother flinch when Erzsébet gently puts her scarf around his shoulders.

“No, you don’t.” Eduard tries to wrench himself free, but he just falls again, and scrambles back through the snow on his hands and feet. “I’m protecting you. I’m— I’ve done so many things. So many terrible—”

“I fought in the war, Eduard,” Tuomi says, and Eduard flinches again, so different from the unflappable man Tuomi used to know.

“Please, leave me.” Eduard chokes back a sob. “I don’t deserve—”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Erzsébet says, and Tuomi can see tears streaking down her face in the moonglow. “You have the freedom to choose the things you feel, but you don’t get to decide whether you deserve our help, Ed.”

He bends his head, his skinny shoulders shaking with tears.

“You can’t help. I can’t…” He speaks to the ground. “The wolf is… It gets what it wants. I just live in the shade, and I don’t…”

He meets Tuomi’s eye again.

“I don’t think I deserve to even be called alive anymore, sometimes.”

This time, he doesn’t flinch away when Tuomi gets closer to him, watching him kneel in the snow. Gently, Tuomi reaches out, brushes snowflakes off his shoulders. His hair is long and tangled, but his eyes are ever so bright.

“I recognized your eyes, Ed,” he whispers. “No one has eyes like that except you. No wolf I’ve ever seen has eyes like that.”

Eduard closes them.

“I was never going to let you go. I never will. If I have to do this every night for the rest of my life, I will.”

“We will,” Erzsébet adds. Eduard opens his eyes, a wild, unfamiliar edge to his expression. Like a wolf looking for prey.

“Don’t say things like that.” His voice is a rasp, barely more than a breath. He doesn’t blink.

“You’re not the wolf, Eduard. I know that.” Tuomi takes a deep breath, cold air burning in his lungs. “I love you, alright? I never stopped, and I never will. I could never wish you dead.”

The wolf in Eduard’s eyes blinks first, and disappears.

“Tuomi,” he says.

“I promise.” He grasps Eduard’s face, and Erzsébet kneels at the man’s side, taking one of his bony hands.

“Erzsébet, I…”

“Listen to your brother, Mets.” She clenches her jaw, reaches into a pocket of her coat, and pulls out the silver blade. “This was never going to be the answer, not with us.”

“If you cannot save me, I need you—”

“No.” She holds his gaze, and then throws the knife into the shadows with all her strength. It glints harshly in the moonlight, just once, before disappearing. “We both love you, and it’s time to go home.”

From one of the trees, a raven calls, and Eduard looks up as it flies back in the direction of the village.

“Alright,” he breathes, and lets both of them help him to his feet, his bare feet in the snow. Tuomi swallows, but holds him up as he knows he always will.

“Let’s go home.”

#Hetalia #aph finland #aph hungary #aph estonia #apheeweek #fin #w: 10000 #np #u: historical #theres probably some typos left but I'll fix them later... gotta sleep #ages later I've finally fixed the typos

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mustangshelby04 · 4 years

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Boston Boy - First (Second) Best Christmas

It’s here! (It’s a little later than I intended it to be, but it’s here!) The first one shot of the Boston Boy series. It’s just a cute little Christmas story with Kate and Chris. Pure fluff. MERRY (Belated) CHRISTMAS!!

“Chris, it’s too big! It’s not going to fit!” Kate complained. “Oh! Ow!”

“Shit! Fuck! I’m sorry!” Chris cried, stopping his movements immediately. “Are you ok?”

“I’ll live.” Kate sighed. “It’s not going to fit. We need to take some off the bottom.”

“I guess you’re right. I really thought our ceiling was high enough for it.”

The husband and wife duo looked at the tree that was about a foot too tall for their ceiling. They had ordered their tree to be delivered from a tree farm upstate and Chris had guessed at the height they would need. He sighed and grabbed the saw.

“Uh uh! Do that out on the patio.” Kate said.

“Why?”

“It’s going to make an even bigger mess that I’ll have to clean up.”

“I’ll help.” Kate just stared at him. “Ok.” Chris sighed and dragged the tree out to the patio.

Kate turned and looked at the boxes and bags of decorations. Her mother had sent up some of the family ornaments while Chris had brought some of his decorations from Boston. The two of them had also gone shopping for decorations of their own. She reached into one of the bags and pulled out the personalized ornament they had found. It was a crescent moon with a baby Minnie Mouse sleeping on a pink blanket. The moon had the words “Baby’s First Christmas” written on it and the blanket had 2016 on one side and Madison written on the other side.

It was the day after Thanksgiving. Chris, Kate, and Madison had spent all day in Sudbury for the holiday the day before. Kate’s mother had insisted that Kate spend the time up there with her husband’s family. Kate hadn’t fought it too much because she and Chris were surprising her family with the annual trip to Disneyworld this year. He had booked them resort rooms and gotten them tickets while Kate had worked it out with her parents’ boss that they would get the time off for it. Her brother, sister-in-law, and niece were also coming on the trip. The entire Allen clan would be invited every year from now on.

“This should do it.” Chris announced, dragging the tree back in. He set it upright and the two feet he had cut off worked perfectly.

Kate grabbed her phone and turned on the Christmas playlist she had compiled on her music app. The Bluetooth soundbar in the living room picked it up and the room filled with the sounds of “The Twelve Pains of Christmas.” Chris let out a loud laugh as he and Kate worked to set the tree up in the stand they had bought. When they finished getting the tree settled and watered, Kate grabbed the tree skirt and started pulling the tags off.

“What are you doing?” Chris asked.

“Putting the tree skirt on.” Kate said, confused he was asking.

“That goes on last.

“What?”

“The tree skirt goes on last.” “Why?”

That stumped Chris. “Because it does.”

“You don’t know why it goes on last?”

“I guess I’ve just always put it on last. Why do you want it on first?”

“So I can get it situated on the stand so we can water it easily and not worry about knocking off the ornaments near the bottom.”

“Huh…. That makes sense.”

“I know.” Kate crawled under the tree and set to work adjusting the skirt while Chris pulled out the boxes of new white Christmas lights.

“Are you sure it’s ok we got white?” Chris asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Some people prefer colored.”

“I’m not those people.” Kate slid out from under the tree and nodded at her handiwork. “I prefer pretty white lights for an elegant tree.”

“Me too.” Chris smiled and kissed her. “I’m really happy we’re getting to spend our first Christmas together.”

“This is our second Christmas together.”

“We weren’t living together last year, though.”

“True.” Kate smiled as she looked over at the baby monitor’s screen. Madison was napping peacefully in her crib with the Disney lullaby playlist playing softly in the background. She had finally transitioned from her bassinette to her crib the month before. “We did have her, though.”

“Yes, we did.” He pulled her to him and started dancing to a sweet rendition of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” This was one of Kate’s favorite things about Chris. He would randomly pull her to him and start dancing with her. It didn’t matter what they were doing, he would stop and dance with her. It was so insanely romantic and so very much a Chris thing to do and she adored it. “So, Mrs. Evans, what do you want Santa to bring you this year?”

“More moments like this one.”

“Oh, that’s a good wish.”

“What about you?”

“That’s a tough one.”

“Why?”

“Because I have everything I want. I have the most amazing wife in the history of wives. We have a perfect little girl together. I finally feel settled. Even with the sporadic travelling for work, I feel grounded and settled.”

“Does it help when I’m there with you?”

“It absolutely helps. More than you know.”

Kate nodded. “Ok.”

“Ok, what?”

“You’ll just have to wait until Christmas.” She looked up at him as they broke apart and started unboxing the ornaments. “Speaking of Santa, I don’t want to give him credit for the good gifts.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, when Maddie is older, I don’t want Santa to get all the credit for the good gifts. He can have maybe one good gift, but he can have the credit for the stocking stuffers and some little gifts.”

Chris laughed, but stopped when he saw how serious she was. “You mean it?”

“Yes, I mean it.”

“Ok. If that’s how you want to play Santa, I’m fine with that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not how I grew up, but….”

“It’s not how I grew up either. I just…. Look, we’re her parents. We provide for her. I almost died giving birth to her. Some fake fat man in a red suit isn’t going to get all the credit for making her happy. That’s our job.”

“Ok. We’ll give Santa one good present and the stocking stuffers.”

“Cool.” The started hanging ornaments on the tree, meticulously picking the best spots for each one.

Chris paused, a Hallmark Beauty and the Beast ornament hanging from his hand. “Hey, what about an Elf on the Shelf?”

“I swear to god, Christopher, if you bring one of those demons in this house, I will throw it off the top patio.”

Chris laughed, slapping a hand to his chest and almost dropping the ornament. “I am so glad you said that because those things creep me the fuck out.”

Kate laughed and kissed her husband. “I’m glad we agree on that.” She paused, looking uncertain about what she wanted to say next.

“What is it, babe?”

“What are we doing about Christmas with our families? We’ve both got our traditions with our families, and we celebrated that same way last year pretty much. But this year is completely different. We’re married and we have a kid. And honestly, the thought of all that travelling with her freaks me out because of the amount of shit we have to take with us wherever we go with her. Just taking her to a grocery store is like packing for a week on vacation.”

Chris nodded. Kate was right about how much stuff it took to travel anywhere with a baby. It made him nervous, too. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Chris….”

“Kat, I promise we will work something out that works for everyone.” He gave her a grin and she sighed.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Christmas Eve, Kate and Chris’ penthouse was packed to the gills. Scott and Lisa were staying in the office, sharing the pull-out couch; Carly, her husband, and three kids were in one of the guest rooms; and Killian, Maura, and Hailey were in the other guest bedroom. Helena, Bill, and Jan were staying at a nearby hotel at Helena’s insistence. The whole family had flown in from Orlando the day before.

Chris had insisted that Christmas be at his and Kate’s place this year. That had been his solution for not travelling with Madison. He was also extremely excited to finally have a family of his own and hosting Christmas for the first time ever really got him going. Kate, Lisa, and Helena had spent the day cooking. Chris had rented a couple of extra tables and chairs to accommodate everyone as well as some beautiful tableware. He had worked hard setting the tables and making place cards for everyone.

It had been decided that everyone would open one gift that night and then go to bed. The kids were excited to leave out cookies for Santa that night and Chris was excited to actually get to play Santa finally. He and Kate snuck downstairs with the presents they had hidden in their closet and the nursery closet. When they were done, the presents spilled out from under the tree. They headed upstairs, checked on a sleeping Madison, and then closed the door to their room.

“I have a gift for you.” Kate announced, walking towards the bed from the bathroom after cleaning her face and brushing her teeth. She was in an oversized Home Alone t-shirt and her hair was in a high ponytail.

Chris held his arms out to her from his place on the bed and she climbed on top of him. His hands instantly cupped her round backside. “You can’t wait to give it to me till the morning?”

Kate shook her head. “I’ve been holding onto this for a while now.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Quit distracting me.” One of his hands had drifted between her legs and his lips were trailing kisses along her neck.

He chuckled and leaned back against the headboard. “Ok, lay it on me.”

“Ok, so do you remember a little while back you said it helps you stay grounded when I’m there with you?” Chris nodded. “Well, I started thinking about it. I love to travel and I love being with you and I really love being a mother. I don’t like being away from Maddie constantly. Especially for work. I still want to take pictures…. I mean, I really do love it, but I don’t want to do it as often as I have been.”

“You haven’t said anything.”

“Because it’s part of your Christmas present. Shh.”

“Sorry.”

“Thank you. So, I’ve been talking to Danielle and she came up with a brilliant solution. One that even I couldn’t have dreamed up.”

“What?”

“She decided to sell me a stake in her company and make me a partner.”

“Are you serious?” Kate nodded excitedly. “That’s awesome! Congratulations, baby!”

“All of this means that I can pick and choose the jobs that I take. I can stay home or go away with you or do whatever I want to do. I’ll still have my own thing. I’ll have a job and be making my own money, so I won’t be relying completely on you….”

“Which I’ve told you not to worry about. You’re my wife. What’s mine is yours.”

“Hush. I’m not done.”

“Sorry.”

“And the final part of all of this…. Which is leading to your actual Christmas present…. When we’re ready, we can grow our family. Intentionally this time.”

“We haven’t talked about that yet.”

“No, we haven’t, but you want more kids. I’ve known that about you for a long time that you want to have kids: plural.”

“What about you?”

“Until I met you, I wasn’t even sure I wanted kids. But Maddie is amazing and you’re such a wonderful dad and I absolutely love being a mother. More than I ever thought I would. I want to give you more kids, Chris. Maybe we can eventually move to Boston and raise our family there…. Where you grew up.”

“Really?” “Yeah. I love Boston. We met there. We conceived Maddie there. We got married there.”

“What about Virginia, though?”

“What about it?”

“You grew up there.”

“I grew up all over. Kentucky, Illinois, Nebraska…. Virginia is just where I settled for a while until I found my permanent home.” Kate reached up and gently held Chris’ face, stroking his beard with her thumb. “You’re my home, Chris. And Boston is where you’re happiest.”

He stared at her in wonder. “And just when I thought I couldn’t love you any more than I already do, you go and do this.”

“So, Merry Christmas! We’re going to move to Boston and have more kids…. Eventually.”

Chris laughed, pulling her lips to his. “Best Christmas present ever.”

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