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majestyjun · 1 year

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# huening kai + miniskirts !!

tw. f!reader, perv!huening kai, fantasizing, unprotected, pussy drunk, semi public. nsfw + minors dni !!

a/n. it’s the finale! thank you for all the love n support the perv series has gotten, i really can’t express how much it has meant to read all the sweet reblogs, comments, and asks about this series <3 please enjoy~~ love, mille

taglist. @hyunimylove @alpha-mommy69

perv mini series masterlist

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“kai?” a concerned voice calls, soft and sweet as his senses come back to reality. blinking drowsily, he vaguely registers the worn material of his varsity jacket brushing against his cheek, dark, wavy bangs casting shadows over his eyes as his vision blearily focuses. an eye-level row of empty, wood topped desks, chairs tucked neatly under. large, open windows reveal the cloudy sky, overcast and a light gray. “kai? are you awake?” lifting his head from the crook of his arm, kai sleepily glances over, met with facing a soft, navy wool sweater vest. leaning over, hair framing your face as you gaze down, head slightly cocked at him in expectation. “oh— i’m awake,” he mumbles, “where’d everyone go?” “it’s lunch, kai,” you pout, having waited for him so patiently to wake up and losing half your break time, “did you really sleep through class?”

as much as you adored him, kai had a tendency to nap through classes, several abysmal grades marring his record. always behind on assignments, but not even the strictest teacher could resist his sheepish and cute apologies as he turned in work a month late, crumpled in the corners and clearly partially done by a certain someone. but regardless of academic prowess, his real reputation rested in the court, the star of the varsity hybe high basketball team. blessed with a large build and height, long arms easily allowing him to make basket after basket, raining two and three pointers every game. if anything, he best team player to possibly walk the earth with the unmatched positivity and sportsmanship. and yet here he was, lazily blinking away sleep as he attempted to figure out what had happened before his untimely nap. “couldn’t help it,” he yawns, long legs awkwardly stretching under the desk too short for him, “late night practice yesterday.” shaking your head in affectionate dismissal, you reach into your bag, pulling out a neatly packed lunch to share before tugging over a chair to his desk. as you hand over a pair of chopsticks, kai’s hand pauses over them, his gaze staring at the floor, freezing he lifted his head up from the desk.

and for a moment, all his other thoughts are overridden with one. pretty, plush thighs, the soft flesh squished against the seat and very poorly covered by your skirt, riding up your leg as you sat down. so, so short, the expanse of skin so enticing, supple and smooth, decorated with small blemishes. short shadowy overhang leaving little to imagination. if only a little higher… and he’d be able to see cute hem of your cute panties. something about your thighs feels so indecent but so alluring, and he can recall how perfectly they slide into his hands, almost wishing he could— “kai?” you ask, glancing down at the floor, “what is it? a bug?” “erm—nothing, um, let’s eat!” kai fumbles, shaking his head and ruffling his bangs before accepting the utensils, trying to clear his mind. a loop of flustered swears at himself for being so easily distracted; he really really really couldn’t afford to pop a boner here, no matter how much he liked the skirt… and your thighs. confused but smiling, you pop a strawberry into your lips, observing him. kai’s ears were bright red.

“did you want a drink?” you question, leaning to the side of your seat to reach your bag. and it’s almost game over— your skirt sliding to the side, exposing the backs of your thighs as you rummage in your bag in search of said drinks, cute cotton panties unintentionally flashing him. plush and soft, so sweet and delicately untouched, and before he can realize it, a sudden, loud snap jerks your head back up. it’s kai, wooden chopsticks messily broken in his hand as his face burns bright red, shifty as he immediately avoids your gaze, clumsily turning towards the window and kicking the desk leg in doing so, resulting in an uncomfortable groan of the old furniture. “are you sure you’re alright?” your warm hand places itself on his forehead, touching to make sure he wasn’t ill, a slight sheen of sweat meeting your fingers. “y-yeah, just a little—um, out of it.” he stammers, before awkwardly yanking off his varsity jacket, “oh—s-sorry about your chopsticks.” stifling a laugh, you gently pry open his hand, taking the broken pieces away before walking away to toss them in the trash. and kai doesn’t know what to do. why was he so obvious? why did he have to make such a fool of himself? and why, why, why were your thighs so pretty? thinking quickly, he shoves his jacket on your seat, hoping you’ll cover your legs without him saying it… because he can’t bring himself to ask you without looking again.

“pass!” squeaking of shoes on the court floor, sunlight streaking through the high windows and casting shadows of the overhang railing. sounds of shouts and calls, basketballs hitting the wooden floor as the team members run about, dribbling and passing fluidly. “kai!” burnt orange ball hitting his palms before roughly tossing into the basket, the swish of the net and shape whistle blowing signaling the end of the round. a sweaty palm pats kai’s back as he pushes back his wet bangs. “you’re still getting better,” yeonjun laughs, “we won’t be a match for you sometime soon.” “ya, there’s no way he can be this good,” beomgyu grumbles, flopping down on the floor with a huff, flapping his loose shirt in attempt to cool himself off, soobin joining him as he pants from fatigue. awkwardly smiling, kai lets out his signature giggle, watching as taehyun and yeonjun converse with the coach, clearing up skills to improve on.

as he sits down beside his exhausted teammates, his mind drifts back to today’s earlier events. you’d taken his jacket and covered his legs to his relief, but he really couldn’t keep the thought of your pretty skirt and legs out of his mind. like a nagging thought, it murmured at the back of his head, resulting in (only) one emergency bathroom visit where he was sure he was getting hard, but it was thankfully a false alarm. he really didn’t want to jerk off in a public bathroom… especially one with multiple stalls. … but then again, there was that time he’d had you in the locker room, but that wasn’t like jerking off alone— a sharp whistle blare calls his attention back to reality, tank top sticking uncomfortably to his back as he fumbles to come back to reality. practice first, then he could go home and think all he wanted. at least that was his plan.

“kai, your girlfriend’s here!” yeonjun shouts, voice echoing across the court. “keep it pg!” beomgyu laughs, easily catching the basketball kai throws at him as the latter races across the gym. “kai—!” you giggle as his arms tightly wrap around your body, oversized varsity jacket loose, “you’re so sweaty!” as always, kai was always more affectionate when he was fully awake and out of class. leaning into his hug, you wonder what could have brought on such a tight grip. it wasn’t as if you had spent hours away from him? “not done with practice yet,” he mumbles into your hair. he wasn’t about to admit it, but he really couldn’t bear to look at your legs, and he also felt a little bad about having such indecent thoughts about you all day. so squeezing you tighter, kai ignores the members laughs in the back at their sweet maknae. “that’s okay,” you reply, muffled slightly by his sweaty tank top, “i’ll be back later anyways.” seeming vine grip unrelenting, you pat his back, knowing he has to get back to practice. as he reluctantly letting go, you unzip the jacket, revealing your outfit from earlier. his varsity jacket had been long enough to hide your skirt, and now that it was unzipped, kai was hit with the same wave as earlier. he really liked your skirt. maybe too much. the long hem of his oversized jacket accentuating the short skirt, somehow making your legs look even more enticing. so when you lean up and press your lips to his in a sweet kiss, he can’t help it but lean into it, fingers instinctively playing with the hem of your skirt, wishing he was at home and not stuck at practice.

“k-kai?” you mumble, pulling away his lips, his large body pressed into yours. “is something wrong?” he asks, a split second before he realizes it. the tent in his shorts pressing to your tummy, your widening eyes falling to the hard sensation against your abdomen. he’d gotten hard faster than he’d ever gotten hard. “ah—! i-i’m so sorry, i d-didn’t mean to—“ kai gasps, stumbling backwards into the gym door as his cheeks flush bright red, clumsily attempting to cover his massive bulge. “it’s okay,” you giggle, watching as he bumps his head into the wooden door in his fumble, “is this why you’ve been so odd all day?” stepping towards him, you smile sweetly as you palm his bulge, “always want you too, kai.” and that’s all it takes for kai to scoop you up, hand clumsily groping your plush thigh as he shoves open the door to the nearby storage closet, dark and filled with sports supplies.

nearly tossing you on a pile of boxes, he rushes to shove the door closed, barely clicking the lock in place before he’s kneeling in front of the stack, aggressively tugging your legs towards him. “w-wait, kai—hnng!” you whine as he yanks your panties down, sighing at your pretty, wet pussy glistening in the dark, only for him. licking a stripe up your folds, tongue pushing past and tasting your sensitive cunt, panting needily, hot breath heightening the wet, sloppy sensation. one hand tightening around your thigh, squishing the pillowy skin as his nose brushes against your clit, such lewd sounds of his messy addiction filling the hazy air as kai greedily licks up your slick, driven even further by your dazed moans. his head buried between your thighs, mini skirt only slightly obscuring his pretty features as you cling to the edge of the boxes, sweet heat spreading across your skin. and all kai can think of is how he’s wanted this all day, to hear your cute whines of arousal as he pleasures you, so addicted to your taste and soft, delicate pussy. “haah—kai!” you shakily whimper, eyes squeezing shut, unable to even bear such a lewd sight as your hands finding his wavy hair, tugging him closer as the pressure builds in your abdomen. “nnngh, w-want more,” kai moans, uneven breaths as he licks your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub and coating it in saliva before sucking on your bud, burning heat flaring in your stomach at the sensation. “ah, kai—so c-close—!” you wail, thighs clenching around his head as your orgasm crashes down, juices soaking his pretty lips as you tug him even closer, so addicted to his pussy drunk state. and it feels so lusciously depraved when kai licks up your cum, swallowing as he groans so prettily, so deep in heaven, buried between your plush thighs, tasting your release and scent so heavy of sex, your miniskirt brushing against his bangs.

and he’s so painfully hard, kai’s bulge so prominent he thinks he might cum in a second. your hands finding his jaw and tugging him to stand between your legs, pressing your lips to his, coated in your juices in messy kisses, hot breaths before diving back in, so wet with saliva and your essence, he’s lost in your touch. needy whimpers, forgotten shame as your legs hook around his waist, his hard length pressed to your soaked folds. your small hands reaching down for his shorts, shoving them down with little care as he tugs you closer, fingers squeezing the plush of your ass. how depraved you feel to yank down his boxers, his moans lost against your lips as your nails scratch against his thigh, precum dripping on your pretty fingers. and in a second, kai sheathes his cock in your tight cunt with a grunting pant, tip of his thick length rubbing your sweet spot. your ass scrapes against the edge of the box, kai nearly holding you up in his firm grip, shoving your back against the boxes as your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer, only a breath apart. “nngh— s-so tight ‘n pretty, r-really like,” kai mumbles against your lips, so lost in arousal as your wet lips lock, swallowing your cries at the stretch as he thrusts carelessly into your soft folds, so enraptured in the immense pleasure.

your cute hands finding the bulge in your tummy, pressing down to feel his veiny cock rub against your walls, added pressure nearly causing kai to lose his uneven rhythm as he moans uncontrollably into your lips, wet tongues touching, your whimpers his oxygen. “haah— so w-warm-“ kai pants, so aroused as your cute mini skirt brushes against his abdomen, your hand adding pressure to the already tight stretch, lewd whimpers filling his ears. “—k-kai, f-faster!” you wail, so close to your orgasm, burning stretch at his massive cock, veins rubbing your sensitive wall with every thrust, so tight, so big, so careless. tears pricking at your shut eyes, clinging to his body as your pussy clenched down, orgasm slamming into your body as you sob into his sweaty tank top, so wrecked and ruined from his reckless, rough thrusts. and all it takes is for kai to look down for a moment, seeing your pretty thighs split apart as your tiny cunt takes him so well, mini skirt rumpled and brushing against the base of his cock, for his cum to flood your pussy. “mmsph— t-too much!” your cute cries falling deaf to his ears as kai roughly presses his cock as deep as he can, so, so much of his hot seed filling up your tummy, milking his dick of every drop as you cling to his broad frame, weakly whimpering at such a full sensation.

“nngh—my pretty so full,” kai pants, his hand running over your tummy, soft skin between the bulge of his cock, other hand squeezing the swell of your thighs as he presses his sweaty forehead to yours, breaths hot against each others lips. “k-kai, c-can’t move yet,” you mumble, feeling so weak as he lifts you back up on the boxes, swollen folds dripping cum as he pulls out with a shaky groan, cock coated in your mixed release, air so heavy with the scent of sex. resting his hands on thighs, squeezing the plush as he watches his white seed leak from your tiny pussy, on the hem of your cute skirt. and kai wants more. with a gasp, he needily tugs you off the boxes, so recklessly shoving your chest against another stack, cute ass exposed to him, skirt barely covering the sweet swell. “kai—? hnng–!” you whimper, only for his hard cock to press against your ass, his hot, sweaty chest pressed to your back, so broad and heavy as he whispers in your ear, desperation giving way to need. “wanna have more,” a barely conscious moment before his dick is pushing into your tight folds again, so intent on staining your skirt in his cum.

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it wouldn’t be something mille writes for kai unless he was such a needy perv lollll

#eeek kai n his bulge kink #thank you for all the support for this series <3 #i hope please stay tuned for the next series too ^^#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt x reader #txt x you #txt scenarios #txt imagines #huening kai smut #huening kai x you #huening kai x reader #hueningkai smut #hueningkai x reader

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bella-rose29 · 6 months

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You Shall Go to the Ball!

Anthony Lockwood x f!Karim!reader

Requested by anon: Hey, I don't know if you accept requests, but I have one. Reader(she is George's sister) accompanies Lockwood&co to the ball at Fittes and she is jealous when she sees Lockwood talking to the girl (maybe reader enemy or something)most of the time. She decides to interrupt the conversation and introduces herself as his wife, while showing the ring Lucy gave her, explaining what to do. A long chapter please😊

I am so sorry that this took so long anon 😭 (I'm also not sure about the title tbh but oh well)

a long chapter this will be! I made the reader George's adopted sister (I hope that's ok!). I also made this super long because I got so carried away and if it deviates from what you wanted then I'm so sorry my lovely

I made it just... a generic ball? I don't know if you had one specifically in mind but I thought it would fit better to have an occasion where they aren't fighting for their lives lol

sorry if your name is Maya bc that is the name of Lucy's crush in this and also sorry if your name is Steph bc she's the enemy of the reader (I had to put names in I'm sorry 🥲)

Word count: 9.8k (I'm doing my bit you guys)

Warnings: swearing, a sexual innuendo or two, bullying (mostly focused on the fact the reader is adopted), lockwood and reader love each other but they haven't done anything about it, tumblr lagged while I wrote most of this so there are probably mistakes, lockwood has some mildly self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of lockwood's suicidal tendencies, there's probably more but idk what

Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

As always, let me know here if you would like to be added to/removed from the tag list for my lockwood and co works (or drop me a message!) <3

Y/n was not happy.

She ought to have been, given the occasion, but she was very much unhappy instead.

Lucy was trying not to laugh too loudly, but was failing at her attempts to stifle just how funny she found the whole situation. "You know," she said between breathy laughs, "all of this would be a whole lot easier if you just told him how you feel."

"Nope. Not happening. Every time I try I freeze up and blabber some unintelligible words that make no sense, and I look like an idiot. So no."

The 'him' in question was Anthony Lockwood, the head of Lockwood and Co and resident of 35 Portland Row. Lucy Carlyle, George Karim and Holly Munro lived here too, and as George's sister Y/n had been invited to Lucy's 18th birthday party. It was a small party, only the five of them (six if you included the Skull, but only Lucy could hear it so Y/n didn't), but the atmosphere was lively and music was playing over the speakers George had set up. Banners and balloons stating 'Happy Birthday!' were strewn all over the living room (Y/n could already see Holly's eye twitching at the amount of confetti on the floor), and the boys were busy refilling glasses (another reason not to count the Skull - it had nothing to hold a drink with).

"You have to do it at some point though," she whispered into Y/n's ear. "But right now, you need to move." Lucy pointed in the direction Y/n was supposed to go, and she tilted her head back as she groaned.

"Remind me why you ever made me play this game?"

"Because it's my birthday, and you love me. Go on, unless you wanna forfeit."

"You're evil," Y/n hissed as she pushed herself off of the floor and made her way over to Lockwood. "I'm sorry, again."

"I'm not sure what for, to be honest. You're just playing the game." He smiled up at her from his place by the fire, and Y/n tried to ignore George's glare. "George, please stop looking at me like that. Lucy was the one who dared Y/n to sit on me." Y/n felt her face warm at his words, knowing that this night could only end in disaster for her, and decided to bite the bullet. Huffing, she turned and sat down, her back facing Lockwood as her legs went either side of his, and she let out a small yelp of surprise when his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her against him. Lucy only laughed, loud and obnoxious, and Y/n couldn't find it in her to shoot a look, still too taken aback by the feel of being hugged by Lockwood in this way. "You alright?" he asked, voice quiet and gentle in her ear, and she felt his breath on the side of her face.

"Y-yeah. I'm alright. How are you?" She cringed at herself, but his light chuckle reverberated through her and calmed her immediately.

"I'm alright. Quite comfy, actually. You're very warm." As if to back up his point he snuggled in to her shoulder, nose rubbing against the side of her neck, and Y/n almost choked. Instead she made a sort of strangled noise, and he stopped and looked up at her as though he was about to say something. Lockwood opened his mouth, but was cut off by George.

"Okay, she's sat on him, can she go back now? I don't wanna look at this anymore."

"George, Lucy dared her to do it for the rest of the game," Holly piped up, clearly enjoying this as much as Lucy. She also knew about Y/n's feelings for Lockwood, the three of them having had multiple nights where they talked for hours about the other two members of Lockwood and Co, and hadn't wasted any time at all in joining Lucy in her teasing about Y/n's crush. "Rules are rules, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, and it's my birthday, so don't even start to think about asking to stop the game. Besides, they look quite comfortable now, wouldn't wanna make 'em move again, would we?"

"I'm very comfortable, thanks Luce," Lockwood said, his hold tightening on Y/n.

"Y-yep. Perfectly good." Lucy and Holly shared a look, stifling their laughter. George sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, huffing at the scene in front of him. Y/n's brother also knew about her feelings for his boss, and he while he wasn't exactly mad about it, he also wasn't thrilled. She knew that he meant well, and was only looking out for her (especially since Lockwood tended to throw himself directly into danger most of the time), but a little support would be appreciated.

The rest of the game went without much incident, although George did have to stick his hand in the toilet (a dare from Holly that nobody expected, although since her arrival in the house the toilets were spotless so it wasn't much of a trial), and by the time Y/n realised that she should be getting home it was well past midnight.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Okay, um- Lockwood! Hi!" He had just entered the living room where Y/n was stood clearing up (the others had gone up to their respective bedrooms), and she apprehended him in the doorway. "Can you help me call a taxi? I need to go home now and it's really late and-"

"Woah, slow down!" He placed his hands on her shoulders, a smile on his face. "Why don't you just stay over, yeah? It's what, two in the morning? You might as well sleep here and leave after breakfast. Your parents probably expected you to stay here anyway, right?" She nodded. It was a common occurrence for her to stay the night at Portland Row when visiting, since she didn't see them all that much. "So it's not a problem, really. You can take my bed if you like, save waking the others up."

"Lockwood, you really don't have to do that," Y/n started, but he cut her off.

"Nonsense. Holly's stayed too, so I'd feel bad if I turfed you out at this time of night."

"No, I mean giving me your bed. You don't have to do that." He shrugged, then moved to grab a blanket from one of the cupboards.

"I'll be alright, I'll sleep on the sofa. Seriously, Y/n/n, it's fine." He flashed her one of his smiles, and instantly she melted and gave in.

"Ugh, fine. But don't complain tomorrow morning when your back hurts," she wagged a finger at him, exhaustion winning out over guilt about taking his bed as she moved towards the door.

"Alright," he laughed, and Y/n didn't think she'd heard a better sound.

She traipsed upstairs and got ready for bed, and when she fell asleep moments after settling in she dreamed of the brown haired boy downstairs.

~~~

Y/n was sat at home in her room a day or so later when George burst in, arms filled with papers and glasses skewed on his nose.

"I've been thinking," he started, dumping the papers on the end of her bed and flopping next to her.

"Hi, Georgie, I'm doing great, thanks. What am I doing? Oh, not much, just sat here reading a book and listening to music." She sent him a pointed look to which he huffed and lightly slapped her arm.

"Shut up. Hi, how are you? Great, nice, okay. Can you listen to me now?"

"What?"

"So I've been thinking about you and Lockwood, and I've decided I don't mind too much. I mean, it's irritating, really, but technically I don't need to do a boyfriend check because I live with him so I know all his nasty habits and that, and I know that he's loyal to a fault, which is something I should probably raise with him, actually," George paused, frowning as he lost his train of thought.

"Um- okay... Where has this come from? I thought you wanted me to stop liking him?"

"Yeah, but then I had to listen to him pining after you for the last two hours at the Archives and I realised that maybe it would be better if you just got together already." Y/n stared at him in shock, processing the information her brother had just spewed.

"Wait, wait. Lockwood likes me? Are you sure?"

"Completely. This isn't some hypothesis or theory, it's fact. My sanity can prove it because it's nearly all gone."

"Okay, but... you're sure? Like this isn't a joke, right?"

"No! It's not a joke! God, you really are perfect for each other; he said the same thing you know. Didn't believe that I was telling the truth about you reciprocating his feelings. Seriously, you're both idiots for not seeing it, I mean, he let you sit on him a couple of days ago!"

"That was part of a game!" Y/n spluttered, face heating at the memory of his hands around her and his head in the crook of her neck.

"Well he wouldn't have cosied up to me, would he!" Y/n fell backwards against the headboard, hands pressed to her face as she groaned in frustration."You're still not gonna do anything about it, are you?" George was quieter now, and Y/n moved her hands slightly to peer at him through her fingers.

"Correct. I want cold hard proof before I make a proper fool of myself and have to never go to Portland Row again for fear of dying from embarrassment." Now it was George's turn to groan in frustration.

"Well somebody's just going to have to engineer a situation where you confess then, aren't they?!"

"Please, no. I will murder you while you sleep if you try anything." George was impassive when Y/n glared at him, used to her threats of death.

"Fine! I won't do anything, alright! Happy?"

"Sort of." They sat in comfortable silence for a little while, Y/n trying to read her book again but eventually getting too distracted by the mountain of paperwork that her brother hadn't touched since arriving. "What is all that, anyway?" she pointed to the end of the bed.

"Oh, my research for a case we have in a couple of days. I couldn't sit with Lockwood anymore, he was driving me insane."

Y/n rolled her eyes at her brother's dramatics. "Do you want help looking through it all?"

"Please. I have no doubts that Lockwood will be doing anything but research right now, and there's a lot to get through. At least I know that you'll stay focused."

"Come on then. Oh, are you staying for dinner? Mum's cooking tonight so you know it'll be good."

"I might do. I get caught up in this stuff anyway so we'll see what time it is. Thanks for the help, Y/n/n."

"No problem, Georgie." She ruffled his hair, laughing when he practically threw himself off of the bed to escape. He landed on the floor with a thud, only making Y/n laugh harder.

"I hate you," he said, sitting up and glaring at her through wonky glasses. "You're the devil, I swear."

~~~

Lockwood and George were cleaning the equipment after yet another successful case when George dropped the chains he was oiling and looked up at his boss.

"I don't get it," he started, making Lockwood glance up with a frown.

"Get what?"

"You barely know Y/n, and you only ever interact when she's here with us, so how are you so hopeless when it comes to my sister?"

Lockwood blushed as he remembered all the times he'd lied to his friends, telling them that he was going on a supply run or heading to the shops when in reality he was making his way to the cafe that Y/n worked at. He spent a good hour or so in there multiple times a week, and sometimes he'd offer to walk her home at the end of her shift, desperate for another few minutes in her presence. Since first meeting her not long after George joined his agency (she'd brought cake, homemade, saying that she wanted to give George a 'congrats on the new job!' present) Lockwood had wanted to be around her all the time; she was like the sun, and everything was gloomy without her. The first time he'd showed up at her place of work, he'd pretended it was a coincidence, acting surprised when he saw her behind the counter. Truthfully, he'd taken a gamble on whether or not she'd be working that day, but the blinding smile that was present on her face as she served customers (although Lockwood could tell it was a fake one) immediately told him that his gamble had paid off.

"Lockwood? Hi! How are you? How's Georgie doing, is he alright? Oh, did you want anything?"

"Just a tea, thanks love," he'd replied, not meaning for the term of endearment to slip out, but her resultant blush was enough to make him decide on repeating it. She started making a cup (he'd asked for it to take away), asking questions every now and then to get his order right, and he answered those as well as her previous questions about George. Eventually, he'd had to leave, paying for the tea he now held and exiting the shop with a promise to come back soon when she'd waved goodbye. It had become a sort of ritual for the two of them, Lockwood appearing a couple of times a week, sometimes to sit at a table with some case files, others he would just get his order to go, but he'd find a way to talk to her every time. On the days when he'd promised to walk her home she would have a cup of tea already prepared for him, sat on his usual table in the corner next to a plate of whatever pastry or cake she thought that he would enjoy. At some point over the years, Lockwood had started feeling his cheeks heat up whenever Y/n smiled at him, or butterflies start up in his stomach when their hands brushed, and eventually he'd had to accept the fact that he was falling in love with her.

"Lockwood? Lockwood! Back to the present, please!" George demanded, snapping his fingers in front of his friend's face. He was sure it had only been a few seconds, but George was annoyed all the same at Lockwood's daydreaming. He huffed in frustration, picking up the chains again."You two are insufferable, do you know that? Seriously, just ask her out already. She feels the same and you know it."

"I thought you didn't want me dating your sister?" Lockwood frowned, feeling hope start to bloom in his chest.

"Yeah, well, then I had to sit and listen to you talk about her for two hours the other day and I lost my mind."

"Oh. Well. I wasn't that annoying, was I?" George only stared at him, expression saying 'Are you serious?' and Lockwood had his answer.

"Just, I don't know. You both like each other, so why not? It'll save me from the pining at least."

Lockwood was quiet for a while, mulling over George's words. "I just know that she can do better than me," he eventually said, not looking up from the boots he was polishing. "I don't want her to... regret being with me, or something."

"Lockwood, having spent the last four years listening to her talk about you I can say with confidence that she won't regret being with you. All I ask is that you dial down the suicidal tendencies on cases, yeah? I really don't want to deal with her heartbroken." George's voice was the softest Lockwood had ever heard it, and Lockwood nodded his assent.

"Alright. I'm not making any promises though Sometimes my suicidal tendencies help us stop dying instead."

"I'm not doing much better than that, am I?"

"Nope. I will be slightly less chaotic on cases and that's as much as I can do for you."

"Fine. Keep polishing those boots, you've missed a spot."

~~~

It was a few weeks later when Lucy called Y/n up in a panic, yelling random words down the phone and ranting about something that sounded important.

"Lucy, Lucy! Stop talking for a moment!" The other girl did so, promptly falling silent, and Y/n took a breath. "What's happened?"

"There's this party- ball- thing that Fittes are throwing in like, two weeks, and we have to go because we've been invited but I have nothing to wear. At all. And you always know what to do in these situations so I figured you could help me?"

She was quiet for a moment, and then said "But it's... in two weeks?"

"Yeah."

"So why are you worrying about it right now?"

"Because loads of people have been invited, Y/n! What if the perfect outfit sells out? What if I end up in something I hate because there was nothing else?"

"Wait, wait wait." Y/n sat forward on her bed, pulling the phone off of the nightstand when the cord no longer reached. "Are you trying to impress somebody?" Now it was Lucy's turn to be quiet, and Y/n scoffed in disbelief. "Oh my god, Lucy Carlyle, do you have a crush?!"

"No, I don't! Shut up! Ugh! You are so annoying, for fuck's sake!"

"You totally do! You so have a crush! Who is it? Tell me!"

"I am telling you nothing, you nosey little bastard!"

"Okay, okay! Fine! I will get this information out of you, I hope you know. When do you wanna go shopping then?"

"Today?"

"Jesus, thanks for the notice!"

"A different day then! But we are not leaving it to the last minute like you always do!"

"No, no, it's fine, Luce. Mum's gone full clean mode anyway so it gives me an excuse to get out the house. Make my siblings do the work."

"Aren't you worried about your own room coming under fire?"

"Nope. We did mine yesterday, so I know I'm safe. I'll meet you at yours in twenty minutes?"

"Yeah, alright." They hung up and Y/n rushed downstairs, grabbing her bag and coat and pulling her shoes on, and within a few minutes she was yelling to her parents that she'd be back later and laughing at her siblings when they complained about her leaving them to their mother's cleaning fury.

~~~

"So," Y/n started, her tone supposedly disinterested as she, Lucy and Holly browsed the department store racks for something for the two agents to wear. "Who is it? The person you're dressing up for?"

"Oi, quit it." Lucy sent a glare her way, but it was too late. Holly had overheard and was joining in, and for once Y/n was glad that it wasn't her being questioned about a crush.

"Are we talking about Maya?"

"No," Lucy shot back, far too quickly for it to be the truth, and her rapidly reddening cheeks weren't helping either.

"Is that her name? Oh my god, okay! Wait, what do you know about her, Holly?"

"She hasn't told you anything? Okay, okay, so she's called Maya, works at Fittes which isn't brilliant, but she's sweet enough. Lucy totally wrecked her first impression though, which was hilarious."

"It was not! I looked like an idiot!" Lucy now had her face in her hands, and Holly had moved to link arms with Y/n. It turned out that Lucy had quite literally fallen for this girl after tripping on a kerb when staring at her, and Holly had laughed so hard she had to dash to a nearby toilet.

"Yeah, no, that is hilarious, Luce," Y/n cackled, gaining some glares from other shoppers.

"You can't talk, little miss 'I sat on Lockwood's lap and fucking yelped'!" Y/n opened her mouth in protest, looking to Holly for support, but the girl only shook her head and sided with Lucy again.

"I didn't think anybody heard that," she mumbled, mortified that apparently they had heard, and worse, hadn't forgotten.

"Oh we all heard, trust me."

"Ugh, I thought I was free because Lucy has a crush now!"

"Nope. Neither of you are off the hook," Holly declared as she laughed, and Y/n and Lucy shared a look. "Why did you yelp, anyway?"

"I was surprised, okay?"

"Did he have a flare in his pocket?" Lucy snickered with an exaggerated wink, and Y/n whacked her arm.

"No, he did not! You are ridiculous! He just... pulled me backwards into a hug, and it surprised me," she explained, voice higher than usual.

"Right... okay," Holly said, playfully narrowing her eyes. "Whatever you say!"

"I'm telling the truth!" Y/n called after them as they moved on, and she rushed to catch up.

~~~

"Oh, this store is so much better than that last one, look at the range!"

"Holly, have you ever considered working in retail if you stop being an agent?"

"God no, have you heard the horror stories? No thank you."

They were wandering around the third department store of the day when Lucy gasped loudly and practically ran to a rack of clothes.

"This one. This is the one. Oh, look at it! No, no way! It has pockets?! I am in love, and I can die happy!"

"Lucy, what are you actually talking about? Because we can't see it from here," Y/n said, and Lucy turned around with a wide smile on her face as she held up the dress. It was similar to the one she'd worn a while ago, back before Holly had joined and Lockwood and Co were into theft (they needed a book from the Black Library), but Lucy had wanted a new one given the other was slightly worse for wear.

"Oh, Lucy, it's gorgeous," Holly complimented, and Y/n agreed.

"Yeah, seriously Luce. Go and try it on!"

They ushered her into the changing rooms, and while they were waiting Holly and Y/n had a seat on the chairs nearby.

"What are you going to wear?" Holly asked, and Y/n frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"To the ball? What are you going to wear? You are coming with us, aren't you?"

"Uh, I guess I can. I hadn't thought about it, to be honest. I don't think I have anything suitable to wear though."

"Well we've still got time, we can look around for something! Maybe something that will help you confess?" Holly nudged, and Y/n was just about to stop spluttering in protest and defend herself when Lucy walked out.

"Holy shit, Lucy."

"Yeah, holy shit."

"'Holy shit' in a good way or 'holy shit' in a bad way?" she asked, chewing on her lip and smoothing out the fabric.

"Good way," Y/n and Holly replied instantly.

"You look amazing, Luce, honestly," Y/n smiled, and Lucy returned it.

"Definitely that one," Holly agreed.

~~~

Holly had insisted that they keep looking around the store for something for Y/n (Lucy had agreed with Holly that Y/n 'shall go to the ball!' - she'd even declared it like the fairy godmother), and so they spent the next few hours carrying out the same painful process that they had just done with Lucy.

"Y/n? Is that you? It is!"

Y/n froze at the voice, squeezing her eyes shut in the hopes that if she just kept walking then she would be left alone.

"Y/n!"

No chance of that, then, given she'd been taken by the arm and wrapped in a hug that was entirely too fake and smelt incredibly strongly of perfume.

"Steph, hi," Y/n hoped she didn't sound too displeased to see the girl, but then again they'd never been friends, and Steph had always been a bitch to her.

"What are you doing here? I didn't think shopping was your..." she waved her hands at Y/n, "thing." She glanced up and down Y/n's body, raising her eyebrows slightly and smiling too widely.

"Not really, but I prefer it when I'm with my friends and they wanted to go out," she said, trying to figure out an escape route.

"Oh, so you're not getting anything?" Before Y/n could respond, Steph had already started talking again. "Of course you aren't, you couldn't afford it, what with your family having so many people in it."

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Lucy, please don't," Y/n hissed, trying to deter her friend from beating the shit out of her enemy.

"You have no right to talk to her like that, okay? And for your information, she is getting something, and it's going to be a dress that makes her look like the goddess she is, alright? So take your fake brands and irrelevant opinions and shove 'em up your arse!" Lucy ranted, shoving her finger in Steph's direction to emphasise her points. The girl was taken aback for a moment, blinking in shock, then scoffed.

"Whatever. Enjoy your lame dress, Karim. Or whatever your last name is, since we all know that you're adopted." Steph left, her two companions following with a click of their stupidly high heels, and Y/n felt tears start to prick at the corners of her eyes. Lucy was practically growling after them, and Holly had brought Y/n into a proper hug, tight and comforting.

"Well she's a bitch. How d'you know her?"

"School," Y/n sniffed, trying to prevent the tears from falling. "She never liked me for some reason, or maybe I was just easy to pick on because I don't know who my real parents are, but she always made it a point to single me out."

"Right, if she ever comes back I'm punching her."

"Lucy," Y/n berated, although she was laughing a little as she did so.

"I mean it! She's awful! Now, have we looked everywhere in this store?"

"I think so, let's try the next one," Holly said.

"Guys, it's not a big deal, really. Don't let me take up more of your time."

"Y/n, stop being ridiculous. We are finding you a dress and that's that."

"Lucy," Y/n whined as the girl grabbed hold of her arm, Holly taking the other, and led her off out of the store.

~~~

"This one?"

"Hm? No, I don't think so."

"What about this one?"

"God no, I'd look like shit."

"How about-"

"Ew, nope."

Many of their discussions had continued in this manner since leaving the store where Steph had appeared, and Y/n was still trying to find a dress that she loved. There had been many that had looked great, but when she'd tried them on there was something just not quite right, and she'd taken it off with a sigh. Curfew was starting to creep up on the three of them, and Y/n was worried that she'd never find an outfit and have to either go in a potato sack or just not go at all.

"You'll find something, Y/n," Holly said, nudging her shoulder against Y/n's.

"It's not looking very likely though, is it?" Holly didn't say anything, offering a sympathetic smile instead.

"Oh. My. God. Y/n/n, what about this one?" Lucy shouted from across the store (the last one that they hadn't previously looked around). Y/n and Holly giggled at their friend's antics, walking over to see what she wanted them to see. She was holding up a deep red dress, gaping at it with her eyes wide and mouth hanging open like she was a fish. "Ok. No thinking, no questioning, find the dressing room and put this on." Lucy bundled the dress into Y/n's arms and then shoved her in the direction of the changing rooms.

"You sure about this one, Lucy?"

"I'm positive, Holly."

~~~

The two agents were waiting outside for Y/n to appear when George turned up.

"What are you two doing here? Lucy, haven't you already got a dress?"

"Oh, hi George. Yeah, I got one earlier since my other nice dress is kind of old now, but Y/n's trying one on. Why are you here?"

"Apparently my other suit isn't nice enough, so I had to get a new one. Lucky that we've been getting some high paying customers recently that I could afford it."

"When you say your 'other suit', do you mean the one that has plasm stains and holes in it from moths?"

"...Yes."

"She's been in there a while, do you think she needs help?" Holly said after a lull in Lucy and George's conversation.

"I'm fine! Gimme two seconds!" Y/n shouted, and Lucy snickered.

"Wait, why's she trying on a dress?" George frowned, finally registering the fact that his sister was in the changing room.

"Because she's coming with us to the Fittes Ball in a couple of weeks and this girl was being a bitch-"

"Stephanie?"

"Uh- yeah. How'd you know?"

"Y/n complains about her a lot. I think they're arch enemies or something."

"Oh."

"What's she got to do with finding a dress though? Attending the ball makes sense, but where does Steph come into this?"

"Lucy might have shouted that Y/n was going to get a dress that made her look like a goddess," Holly chimed in.

"Ah, I see. So now my sister is... what, trying one on?"

"Yep. You sure you're okay?" Lucy shouted the last part in the direction of a stall, just as Y/n swept back the curtain and stepped out.

"Woah," Lucy and Holly said. George was silent, staring at his sister.

"Good woah or bad woah?" Y/n asked, smiling a little as she remembered Lucy asking a similar thing earlier that day.

"Good woah, for sure," Holly said, Lucy nodding next to her.

"Oh, Georgie. I didn't know you were here," Y/n looked more nervous now, clearly wanting her brother to say something positive.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Yeah. I do. I really do."

"You look beautiful, Y/n/n."

"Thank you, Georgie."

"Definitely look like a goddess," Lucy added.

~~~

"Lockwood, hi!" Y/n hadn't expected to see him today, but he had just entered the small cafe that she worked in.

"Hi, Y/n/n, how're you?" He looked antsy, like he wanted to know something, and was shifting on his feet.

"I'm alright... you okay? You look like you have a rash," she said, starting to make him a tea the way she knew he liked it.

"Uh- what? No, I don't... I don't have a rash, I just, well, I heard that you're coming to the ball with us next week?"

"Oh, yeah. The girls convinced me to go. We went dress shopping for Lucy last week and Holly told me I should go with you all. You don't mind, do you?"

"No! No, of course I don't mind!"

"Good, 'cause I already got a dress when Lucy got hers, and it was expensive and I need a justification for getting it or Mum'll be mad." She poured the hot water in, careful not to spill any over her hands (it had happened more times today than she'd like to admit), turning and finishing the tea off, placing a lid on the top of the take away cup. She pushed it across the counter, shaking her head when Lockwood pulled out his wallet to pay. "On the house, you look like you need it." He smiled at her, making her heart flutter, and pushed a fiver into the tip jar next to her as he ignored her protests.

"Thank you. Are you going to get changed with the rest of us? Or do you want us to pick you up from yours?"

"Oh, I was gonna get changed with Holly and Lucy. I'll probably come over quite early if that's alright with you?"

"Of course, you know I don't mind having you over, love. Thanks for the tea!" he called out as he left, unaware of Y/n's blush.

~~~

"Why do girls take so long getting ready for things?"

Lockwood looked up at George's words as he entered the kitchen, folding his paper and throwing it on the table. "Not sure. I'm relatively sure they plan world domination while they do it."

"Makes sense," George shrugged, flopping into a chair and pulling at his bow tie. "They have been in Lucy's room for hours now though. Do you think we need to be worried?"

"I hear them laughing every now and then, so they're still alive at least," Lockwood replied. George hummed, pushing his glasses back up his nose. All of a sudden the two boys heard footsteps thundering on the stairs, and a moment later Lucy's head poked through the kitchen door.

"Please make your way into the hall!" she half shouted, not caring that she was only a few metres away from them and disappearing again. Lockwood and George shared a look, then slowly pushed themselves out of their chairs and moved into the hallway to stand in front of the stairs. A few minutes passed, with hushed conversation barely audible from the top of the stairs, and eventually Holly said "Oh, I'll go!" and came downstairs. She looked lovely in her dress, gold fabric shimmering as she took the steps and ended up at the bottom, Lucy following closely behind in her deep blue (a staple colour for the girl), also looking gorgeous. Lockwood frowned slightly when he realised that Y/n wasn't with them, and when her head poked over the bannister with a worried expression he started feeling nervous.

"Guys, are you sure?" she asked, biting her lip. Lucy and Holly nodded, and George gave her a thumbs up.

"Wait," Lockwood started. "Has everybody seen her dress but me?"

"Yep," George said, the girls nodding behind him.

"So why are you so nervous, Y/n/n?" he called up, frowning.

"I don't know!"

"Just come downstairs!" A loud honk sounded from outside then, and the four agents turned to look in the direction of the sound.

"That'll be the cab," Lucy piped up, heading over to the door. "We'll wait for you two," she winked, and Lockwood felt his face heat up. How did she know about his feelings for Y/n?

"Please don't break her heart, Lockwood. Or I'll deliberately throw badly the next time we're on a case."

"George, no offence, but you can't aim anyway. Maybe if you deliberately aimed badly you'd throw it the right way."

"I mean it. Remember what we talked about the other week, and don't screw it up, yeah?" George patted Lockwood's shoulder, grabbing his jacket and heading outside after the girls.

"Lockwood?"

"Yeah?"

"They've all left, haven't they?"

"Yeah." Y/n didn't answer, instead letting out a groan that made Lockwood chuckle.

"Just come downstairs, Y/n/n. We're going to be late."

"Promise you'll be nice?"

"Why would I not be nice?"

"I don't know! Just promise?"

"Okay! I promise!" He was trying to stifle his laughter in the hopes that she wouldn't take it the wrong way when Y/n appeared at the top of the landing and took his breath away. She was stunning, the dress fitting perfectly and making her look ethereal.

"Lockwood? I look terrible, don't I? I'll stay here, you guys go without me-"

"No! No, don't... you look... you look- pretty," he settled on, wincing at his awkwardness. "You look really pretty, Y/n." He didn't miss the way her smile grew, or the way his face warmed, and when she muttered a small 'Thanks' under her breath his heart stuttered. "We should, uh," he cleared his throat. "We should probably... go..." he trailed off, still blushing. She had come closer and now he could smell her perfume, and when she brushed past him to open the door he thought he might faint from the brief physical contact. What was wrong with him? He was Anthony bloody Lockwood, so why was he acting so foolishly around this girl?

"Are you coming, then? Or are you gonna keep standing there like a lemon?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm- yep."

They packed themselves into the taxi, Lockwood stubbornly ignoring Lucy's smirk as the last two available seats for him and Y/n were right next to each other (which he was entirely certain had been planned), thighs pressed together, and a few moments later they were on the road, heading for the Fittes building.

~~~

"Holy shit, this is insane, Lucy," Y/n gasped, staring around the room in wonder. "Lucy?" She looked for her friend, wondering why she hadn't said anything in response, when she saw Lucy talking to a girl.

"That's Maya," Holly whispered, taking Y/n's arm and looping it through her own.

"God, she's gorgeous. I can see why Lucy likes her." Holly hummed her agreement, taking the two of them on a lap of the room.

"Did something happen between you and Lockwood before you got in the taxi?" she asked after a pause.

"What? No, why?" Y/n's eyes were wide, heat creeping up her neck at the memory of him calling her pretty.

"He can't stop staring at you. He looks like an idiot, to be completely honest." Now her eyes were wide for a different reason, turning to find Lockwood's body in the crowd. Sure enough, he was already looking their way, and after a few moments he seemed to realise that he'd been caught, blushing and rejoining the conversation he was having with George and some agent from Rotwell.

"You sure nothing happened?" Holly asked again, eyebrow raised.

"...Yep." The other girl just laughed, clearly not believing her, and dragged her further around the room.

~~~

"You alright, Luce?"

"Not really," she said, slumping into the chair next to Y/n. "Maya's talking to some other girl and I couldn't relate to anything they were saying, so I left."

"Aw, Lucy. You have been talking to her for what, an hour already? You're not going to have everything in common," Y/n reassured her friend, offering a soft smile.

"I s'pose you're right," she started. "That's what makes a good relationship, right?" Lucy was perking up with every word, sitting up in her chair and leaning forward.

"Yeah, like Y/n and Lockwood," Holly chimed in.

"Yeah, Holly's right. Wait, like- what?! What do you mean?! We're not- he's not-" Y/n spluttered, trying desperately to gain control of the situation after the slip-up and failing miserably. Lucy and Holly were doubled over laughing, clearly finding the situation hilarious, when all of a sudden Y/n shot her arms out to either side, grabbing hold of her friends. "No, seriously, stop it now. Look," she pointed towards Lockwood, hoping the girls would pick up on what was wrong.

"Is that-?"

"I'm gonna kick her arse into next fucking we-"

"Fucking Stephanie," Y/n spat, not missing the way that she was flirting with Lockwood. She hadn't realised the bitch was here, but now that she had it was incredibly difficult to take her eyes off of the scene. Now it was her turn to be gloomy, and every attempt to talk to Lockwood ended with Steph's friends (minions) pushing her back and acting like incredibly non-threatening bodyguards, but Y/n didn't want to cause a scene in the middle of a party that she wasn't technically invited to by shoving back.

Roughly an hour and a half after first spotting Stephanie with Lockwood, Y/n was stood with her back to a wall as she miserably looked on at the two of them somehow still engaged in conversation. The worst part was, Steph didn't look like she would be ending their chat anytime soon, and didn't appear to want to leave. Whether the girl knew about his affiliation with Y/n or not, she wasn't sure, but it was making Y/n increasingly more irritated as the night went on.

"Here," Lucy said, appearing at Y/n's side. "Take this." She held her hand out, one of her rings that she always wore sat in the centre of her palm, the sapphire shining up at her from its place in the centre of the band of silver.

"Uh, why?" A frown settled on Y/n's face, unsure where Lucy's mind was going.

"Because you're gonna go up to Lockwood, big smile on your face, and ask Steph why she's fondling your husband." Y/n could only stare at her friend, wondering what the actual hell had come over her.

"But... he's not my husband?"

"She doesn't need to know that, does she? You two are practically an old married couple anyway, so what does it matter? Besides, if nothing else it's an opportunity to cuddle up to him," she said the last part with a wink, making Y/n flush as she remembered the last time she had 'cuddled up' to Lockwood.

"Well, George is over there, he's not going to play along, is he?" she attempted to find a way out of this situation that Lucy had put her in, but the agent had a solution to everything, it seemed.

"Oh, I told him about this. He's promised to go with it. There was absolutely no way I was gonna let your brother be oblivious, he's a terrible liar sometimes." Lucy was still standing with her hand out, ring gleaming up at Y/n, and she had half a mind to say no and continue suffering until she heard a loud laugh come from the other side of the room. Both girls looked for the source, and Y/n bristled when she realised that it was Steph laughing, hand placed firmly on Lockwood's arm as she leaned into him. Not thinking twice, Y/n grabbed the ring, shoved it on her finger, and marched over to where her new fake husband stood. She squeezed between Steph and Lockwood (difficult, since the other girl had practically glued herself to him) and wrapped her arms around his waist, trying to steady her heart as she felt his warmth engulf her.

"Hi, love," she smiled up at him, willing him to stop staring at her with his eyes so wide open in shock and hug her back. He stuttered for a moment, going red, and vaguely Y/n registered Steph's outraged expression in the corner of her eye and George's stifled laughter.

"Uh- hi- hello."

"Y/n? I didn't realise you were going to be here," Steph asked through gritted teeth, obviously annoyed at the interruption.

"Oh, Steph! I didn't see you there! Of course I'm here, why wouldn't I be? My husband got invited and so naturally I was his plus one!" It was petty, she knew, but totally worth it for the look on Steph's face when Y/n emphasised the word 'husband' while smiling lovingly up at Lockwood.

"...Husband?" she asked, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. Lockwood was still rigid as a pole, although he had brought his arms around Y/n's waist after she pinched him in the side. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"I second that. Husband?"

"Oh, did I not tell you?" Lockwood hadn't moved his head away from her ear, instead nuzzling further into her neck, and it was becoming difficult to think straight. "We got married!" She flashed the ring at Steph, delighting in both the pure, unfiltered shock on her face and also the way in which Lockwood had moved his hands to hold her body closer to his.

"Well- I- okay then. But one question, for Lockwood?" He pulled his head up, dopey smile on his face as he nodded for Steph to continue.

"Why would you ever marry someone like her? I mean, you know that she's adopted, right?"

Y/n could practically feel George bristle behind her and get ready to punch Steph's lights out, but Lockwood remained calm, his expression sharpening and spine straightening as he took Steph in.

"I don't see how her not being biologically related to her parents affects how much I love her, do you?"

"It's just that-"

"I married Y/n because of who she is, not because of her family, although having George around is wonderful," Lockwood cast a smile at Y/n's brother before continuing. "She's the most incredible person I have ever met, and she far outshines you in every way and I think you know that, and you're jealous of it. I know that I'm jealous of how incredible you are, darling," he turned to Y/n, using the hand that wasn't around her waist to push back a lock of hair, his fingers lingering for a few moments more than was necessary as he smiled softly at her. "And quite honestly, Steph, if you can't agree with me on that then I don't think we have anything else to talk about, do we?" It was a rhetorical question, Lockwood already turning away and linking his hand with Y/n's as he dragged her to the side of the room, but they could hear Steph spluttering being them as they went.

"So," he started once they were far enough away. "What was that all about?" He hadn't let go of her hand, and his thumb had started softly tracing patterns over their intertwined fingers.

"What?"

"I don't remember marrying you, Y/n, unless it happened when I was really drunk or sleep deprived," he joked, although something in his eyes was searching for any hint of truth to the words in her face.

"I just- she's- I-" Y/n took a breath, trying to figure out how to explain the whole thing to him without him getting mad or laughing at her. "Steph's always hated me, and Lucy knows that-"

"What's Lucy got to do with this?" She huffed at him, small frown appearing on her face.

"If you let me finish then you'd know!"

"Alright! Alright!"

"Yeah, so Lucy knows that Steph hates me, and I hate her, and you two were talking for so long and she was all over you and I couldn't keep watching, so Lucy gave me this ring that I think is actually one of mine that she stole," she frowned down at her hand, going off on a tangent, "and she told me I should go over and say we were married to get rid of Steph."

Lockwood didn't say anything, instead just staring at her with a blank expression, and Y/n looked down at their still linked hands.

"I'm sorry," she whispered after a while.

"Don't be," he whispered back, using his free hand to lift her chin up. "I'm just a little annoyed, to be honest."

"Oh, god, I really am sorry, Lockwood! I didn't mean to make you upset or anything, I just got pissed off with her and-"

"No! No no no, stop right there. I'm not annoyed at you, darling, never you. I'm annoyed at myself for not coming up with that plan earlier. She was really starting to piss me off too, and I kept hoping that George would intervene or something and he never did- I'm going to have to talk to him about that," Lockwood frowned, looking in her brother's direction. "I'm also... I'm annoyed that this is how I tell you that-"

"Here you are! I was wondering where you two had run off to!" George appeared, bright smile on his face, and Y/n couldn't stop the glare that came onto her face. Tell me what? If only George had turned up a few moments later, then she would know what Lockwood wanted to say. "We should probably find the others, party's wrapping up now and I'm craving my bed." Lockwood heaved a sigh, then nodded in agreement, following after George as her brother tried to find Lucy and Holly, casting a slightly pained glance over his shoulder at Y/n.

Tell me what?!

~~~

The journey back to Portland Row was uneventful since everybody was exhausted, although Lucy was practically buzzing in her seat because Maya had passed on her number, telling Lucy to call her.

"This means something, right?" she exclaimed as they piled through the front door. "I have a real chance with her, don't I?"

"Yes, Lucy. Yes you do," Y/n yawned, leaning slightly on Lockwood to take her heels off. Why she'd ever let Holly convince her that heels were needed when she could have worn her trainers instead she wasn't sure, but she breathed a sigh of relief when the first one was finally off. She wobbled for a moment trying to undo the strap on the other one when Lockwood steadied her, crouched down, and took her leg into his hands as his fingers worked the clasp. A few moments later he was done, gently pulling the shoe off of her foot, and although he had only had his hands on her for what couldn't have been more than ten seconds Y/n could feel her cheeks heating up and her heart beating faster.

"Lockwood, what the fuck are you doing?"

"George, they're having a moment, alright? Leave 'em alone," Lucy hissed, taking him by the arm and dragging him upstairs, hushed apologies whispered as he tripped and face planted due to her harsh tugging.

"Good night you two, I'll see you in the morning," Holly said, following after her coworkers and leaving Y/n and Lockwood in the entrance hall alone for the second time in the last twenty-four hours.

"You're not going to bed, are you?" Y/n asked, a knowing smile on her face as she looked at Lockwood. He shrugged, heading towards the library instead of up the stairs.

"I'm not feeling too tired, to be honest," he replied.

"You never feel tired, I swear. Do you ever sleep?" She mock gasped. "Are you a vampire? Is that why you're so pale and are always awake at night?" She broke off into a fit of giggles, exhaustion making her mildly hyper.

"No, I am not a vampire," Lockwood laughed, shaking his head at her antics. "Go on, you should head up. Unlike me you can't run on tea and tea alone."

Y/n nodded, heading for the stairs, but stopped a little way up as she remembered something. "Lockwood?"

He paused in the doorway of the library, turning to face her with one hand still on the handle. "Yeah?"

"What were you gonna tell me before George came over? At the ball? You said you were annoyed that it took you so long to tell me something." A frown had worked its way onto her face, but Lockwood's was filled with a smile.

"Go to bed, darling. I'll see you in the morning." He disappeared into the library, leaving Y/n standing on the staircase staring at the place he had just been.

~~~

The next morning Y/n woke to an empty room, Lucy and Holly nowhere to be seen in the attic. She laid in bed for a little while, soaking in not having to get up and go to work, but eventually the need for food grew too strong and she was forced to start her day.

The kitchen was empty of George, too, and a short investigation led to finding a scribbled note on the thinking cloth that Holly, Lucy and George had gone for a grocery run at the supermarket. That left Lockwood, who was either hiding away in the house or had gone off on his own somewhere. Y/n's question was answered a few minutes later as she was pouring hot water into a mug for tea, and she nearly spilled the liquid all over her hands when Lockwood appeared and asked her to pour a cup for him.

"Shitting hell, Lockwood! Where did you come from?"

"Oh, I was downstairs. Doing a spot of rapier practice. Thanks," he gratefully accepted the mug that Y/n handed him, smiling brightly at her over the edge. She tried desperately to ignore the flush to his skin (and the mental images of Lockwood training), and turned back to her own mug of tea, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment in the hopes that she could go back to thinking normal thoughts. "You alright?"

"Hm? Oh, yes! Yeah, yep. I'm fine," she exclaimed, wincing at how the words came out. Lockwood stifled a snort (unsuccessfully) and took a sip of tea, yelping a moment later.

"Shit, that's hot!"

"Why wouldn't it be? You idiot!" Y/n was laughing fully, not bothering to hide how amusing she found the whole situation, and Lockwood was glaring at her from where he stood fanning his mouth. "You literally watched me pour boiling water into that like, a minute ago!"

"I know! I know! Stop laughing, will you? I feel bullied. I'm being bullied."

He took a glass out of the cupboard, filling it up with cold water from the tap and taking a long drink. They stood in silence for a while after that, Lockwood taking tentative sips of his tea while Y/n took large gulps, trying not to laugh at him when the memory of his reaction came back. They were very rarely alone in the house, with at least one other person somewhere and about to walk in, and Y/n decided that Lockwood had nowhere to go so she might as well corner him.

"Why didn't you answer me last night? When I asked what you wanted to tell me?"

He froze momentarily, the tips of his ears going pink as he hid behind his mug and scratched at the back of his head. "It doesn't matter, Y/n/n. Really."

"Well it matters to me, Lockwood. If nothing else the not knowing is killing me. Also I had just dragged you into a marriage with me, and while I do feel bad about that I also feel that you owe me this as well."

"You didn't drag me into a marriage, you surprised me with one," he joked, clearly stalling.

"Okay, fine, but seriously what were you going to say before my idiot brother came over?"

"I was just... going to say that..." he mumbled the last part, all the words smushed together and said quietly so that Y/n had trouble picking them out.

"Sorry, I genuinely could not hear you for the life of me Lockwood," her expression was apologetic, and he sighed through his nose as he looked up at the ceiling, closing his eyes before making a decision.

"I was going to say that I was annoyed that it took me so long to tell you that I love you."

"I love you too, Lockwood," Y/n frowned, wondering why he looked so beaten up about it. The five of them often told each other that they loved them, the words thrown around casually all the time.

"No, I mean- I love you, Y/n. To the point that George punches me in the arm sometimes because I won't shut up about how amazing or funny or kind or smart you are."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He hesitated for a few seconds, then spoke up again. "If you don't... I don't want this to ruin our friendship if you don't feel the same way though."

"Why wouldn't I feel the same?"

"You haven't said anything and it's- it's freaking me out!"

"Well I do feel the same! I'm just also freaking out because you love me too!"

"We're a mess, aren't we?" Lockwood laughed.

"Absolutely."

"So- So if I asked you on a date... would you-"

"Yes. Sorry, I- you can finish."

"I mean I think I got my answer, to be honest." He smiled softly at Y/n, placing his mug down and slowly coming over to where she leaned against the countertop. She reached her arms up and draped them around his neck, bringing him into a hug, and his own hands found their way to her waist. His eyes flicked between hers and her lips, and then he was whispering "Can I kiss you?" and leaning in when she nodded, pressing his lips to hers gently. They didn't rush, taking their time as they kissed softly, Lockwood's fingers brushing the skin just under her jumper and Y/n's fingers tangling in his hair, and when they pulled away for air they stayed close, foreheads bumping against each other.

~~~

When Holly, Lucy and George got home just over an hour later, arms laden with shopping bags, the silence was deafening.

"I really hope they haven't killed each other," Holly frowned, peering up the stairs as if doing so would help her find their missing friends.

"Maybe they've finally got together and are on a date," Lucy exclaimed, poking George in the side when he wouldn't move out of the way of the cupboard that she needed to open.

"Ow! I'm torn about that. On the one hand if they do get together I'll be glad they've stopped pining, on the other they'll be insufferable. You know what Lockwood's like, all lovey-dovey and attention giving, and Y/n will soak it up like a dry sponge."

"Oh, I found them!" Holly poked her head through the kitchen door, neither Lucy or George having noticed her leave. She lead them to the library, motioning for quiet as she pushed the door open. "They must have been reading and got tired. They totally confessed, just look at them!"

Lockwood and Y/n were curled up (somehow) on the larger of the two armchairs in the library, limbs entangled and hanging off of the arms and a book dangled in Lockwood's free hand, the other wrapped around Y/n keeping her safely tucked into his chest as the two of them slept. George looked like he was trying to be upset, but Lucy could see the smile he was holding off at the sight in front of them.

"We should leave them to it, I s'pose," Lucy murmured, pulling the door shut softly with a small click. "You alright, George?"

"Just thinking about how horrible things will be with them finally together," he replied, rolling his eyes and heading back into the kitchen to start dinner.

"He's not really upset, is he," Holly said, more stating it as a fact than posing a question.

"Nope. He's gonna be singing while he cooks, I can guarantee it."

Sure enough, barely five seconds after Lucy said the words, singing could be heard from behind the closed kitchen door alongside the clash of pots and pans.

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood & co #idiots in love

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athina-blaine · 5 months

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Bloodweave Fic Recs (12/8/2023)

I've been devouring fic lately and I figured I may as well do something productive with it.

Format from @inevitably-ineffable-husbands fic rec lists, check out some of their Good Omens fic recs if you're a fan ♥️

Four Eyes by trashmaven (G, 1.2k w || Light Angst, Pre-Relationship, Fluff) Gale has a secret.

Of Jackpots and Sticky Fingers by Asidian (G, 2k+ w || Humor, Banter, Gambling) "The nerve," huffs Gale. "Imagine setting a jackpot and then punishing anyone who won it fair and square!" Astarion's eyes flicker from the stalking lizard to Gale, and then back again. It's entirely too innocent of a look.

Hoarding Tendencies by Asidian (G, 4k+ w || Hoarding, Trust Issues Past Deprivation, Past Abuse, Misunderstandings, Starvation, Gift Giving) "My word," says Gale, caught between taken aback and genuinely impressed. "Where does this all fit in your pack?"

Letters From Gale by Modmother (G, 5k+ w WIP || Epistolary) A series of letters from Gale Dekarios to Astarion spanning the year after the defeat of the absolute.

Out of Breath, Out of Time by SadinaSaphrite (T, 1k+ w || Asphyxiation, Strangulation, Hurt/Comfort) Gale is caught in a meazel's garrote and needs some rescuing.

Might Just Make It by lavvyan (T, 2k+ w || Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, POV Outsider) The group (sans Tav) meet Astarion by the beach. They don't meet Gale. If you ask Astarion, that just means they have to look harder.

in your arms I lie till dawn by shroomonabroom (T, 3k+ w || Hurt/ Comfort, Fluff, Sleep Deprivation) Gale hasn’t slept in several days; Astarion makes things better via food and almost cuddles.

A Practical Guide To Camping by Lunarwench (T 4k+ w || Pre-Relationship, Friendship) How the hell do these idiots have so much stuff when they were all abducted by a flying squid; A Character Study

Come To Mind by ZiGraves (T, 7k+ w || Memory Loss) Something has happened to Gale. Who was Gale, anyway? Well, Gale was himself, obviously, but what did that entail?

In the Dark by LeaXIII (T, 7k+ w || Whump, Light Angst, Tight Spaces, Blood and Injury, Impalement, Blood Drinking, Sexual Tension) Gale and Astarion are caught in a cave-in and no one has a good time. Takes place somewhere in Act 1.

Weakness Coming On by bloodweaving (shipwreckblue) (M, 5k+ w || Enemies to Lovers, Humor, Autistic Gale, Banter, Getting Together) Astarion’s expression settled into an alarming rictus of forced nonchalance. “Oh, please, darling, did you think I was serious?"

The things lost along the way (The things gained at the end) by ThatKorka (M, 14k+ w || Body Horror, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, UST) I can smell what’s under those bandages, Wizard, You’re all rot and ruin!

Deliverance by porcelain (E, 2k+ w WIP || Incubus Astarion, Angst/Hurt, Religious Guilt, Minor Character Death, Alternate Universe, Trauma/PTSD, Priest Gale) Third row, on the right, between a now awake grandfather and a nodding teary-eyed mother and bored children and still untouched scriptures. The red of the man’s irises narrow, and he flashes a smile at him, wicked in a flash of dagger-like teeth. He doesn’t look away, even when Gale does.

Rest, Indulge by ZiGraves (E, 6k+ w || Consensual Somnophilia, Blood Drinking) The slow, drowsy way that Gale’s eyelids flutter before they open fully is its own particular pleasure, and he leans into Astarion’s hand while still half-dozing enough to luxuriate without thinking. Consciousness comes back in a slow rolling wave, free of the stresses of their old camp life that might necessitate instant wakefulness. Astarion watches each moment as it builds, crests, breaks, until his wizard is awake and meeting his eyes with warm curiosity.

Friday Nights by SadinaSaphrite (E, 23k+ w || Alternate Universe, College/University, Modern with Magic, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Blood and Injury, Violence, Fluff, Medium Burn) Professor Gale Dakarios loses his research, his magic, and his lover Mystra all at once and only has himself to blame. When he goes to drown his sorrows, he meets a pale stranger with mysteries of his own.

The stars began to burn by peregrinefeathers (E, 33k+ w WIP || Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Past Sexual Abuse, Psychic Bond, Emotional Manipulation, Blood Drinking) After two centuries of torment, Astarion has given up hope of escaping Cazador's clutches, until a chance encounter with a stolen book introduces him to the disembodied voice of a wizard named Gale of Waterdeep. With the fate of Baldur's Gate in the balance, they must confront their demons and win their freedom - together.

Let me know if you'd like a specific rec or want to share some recs of your own!

#bg3 #bloodweave #still have like 40 fics in my to reads so this isnt the last youll see of me #yall are doing amazing sweeties

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avidfics · 1 year

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Bratty Behavior to Get Riri's Attention

Pairing: Riri Williams x Reader

Summary: Reader has been attracted to Riri for awhile and wants to get her attention.

Contains: fluff, bratty reader, smut

A/N: I just wanted to write a reader thirsty for Riri.

For the tenth time since you sat down for class, you eagerly checked the time on your phone. Two minutes till 4 o clock. Your leg shook in anticipation. As you recheck the time, out of the corner of your eye, you see her, walking in right on time, Riri Williams.

You're not sure when your infatuation with her started but you can guess the reason why. She glided into the room, smiling at some of her friends, and dabbing up others. She was hot, smart, and made your head turn to mush whenever she looked your way, which wasn’t as often as you craved. Even though you shared an apartment together.

Hyping yourself up as she walks up the steps of the auditorium you prepare to say something nice and polite as she sits in the row below yours. Her eyes, pinned to her phone, flicks up to you and you say the first thing that comes to your mind, “Surprise you showed your face after you bombed the midterm.” Yeah, you were a slight dickhead who wasn’t good with pleasantries. You smile sweetly up at her, “Thin walls and all.”

Riri stops at the seat in front of you. One side of her lip raised with a smirk. “Go ahead and gloat love, this feeling must be rare for you so I’ll allow it.” Her bookbag lands with a thud on the floor, startling you. “But I didn’t know you cared about me so much as to spy on me.” Your whole face heats at the accusation because it’s spot on. Somehow your gusto evaporates as you try to keep eye contact but her gaze is too demanding.

“Y-Yeah right.” You cough into your hand just because you can’t hold her eyes. “Maybe if you had fewer guests over throughout the night I wouldn’t have surpassed you.” You nervously play with your pen. But your eyes widen as her warm hand lands on yours. A thrill rakes through your body at the contact. “Do you not like me having overnight guests?” Her fingers graze your knuckles, dragging down your fingers.

Your eyes dash from the professor back to Riri, frantic for this to end before you passed out. “I don’t care who you have over I just rather not hear it… you know…late at night,” you drag off, feeling more exposed the more you talk. SO freaking embarrassing.

Sneaking a peak at Riri, her eyes sparkle down at you, clearly amused. She takes the pen you’ve been fidgeting with and twirls it through her fingers. “No worries, love, I’ll limit my loud sleepovers. But if you’re sooo concern for my grades, maybe we can have a sleepover of our own. You know. To study.” Turning away with a self-satisified smile, she sits, already absorbed in her phone, scheduling tutoring sessions. Leaving you feeling naked, unraveled, and without a freaking pen.

++++++++++++++++

Not until you were back at your apartment did you realize Riri totally played you like a fiddle. Whenever you had the upper hand, Riri waltzed in and totally made you eat out of her hand. But tonight would be different. You got the impression from the earlier conversation that Riri wouldn't bring a girl back tonight. So maybe you would finally have her undivided attention.

In your shared kitchen, you think about cooking for you both when the front door opens. Your whole body straightens, but your smile crumples when she comes in, wrapped around an unfamiliar girl.

The girl grins at you. “What’s up, you must be the roommate.” Your bitch tendencies rear its ugly head as you slam the fridge door closed, grab your trusty bottle of wine and go into your room.

Riri’s hand catches you before you open your door. “Yo, what’s your problem?” Irritation crinkled her face, demanding an answer but you didn’t have one. Rolling your eyes, you push her away and slam your door close.

You was angry and mad at yourself for being angry. So you started to drink and do your homework (not a productive combination) and forget about how good Shuri looked in her sleevless halter top and jeans. You wanted her so bad it hurt.

The lewd noises came just 30 minutes later. Fuck you could hear Riri's voice and it made your body hot and achy. Through the thin wall, you heard the nameless girl moan out Riri’s name and Riri's murmured commands. “What was that ma? Tell me what you want. Speak up.” God her voice alone could get you off.

But this night would be different. Taking another swing from your wine glass, you decided to have some fun. Going to your Bluetooth speaker you turned the volume all the way and Friday by Rebecca Black blared through the room. Grinning, you start singing along, bottle in hand, bouncing on your bed to the lyrics. “GOTTA LOOK FORWARD TO THE WEEKEND!”

Hard, flat bounding against the wall has you crackling. You could just imagine Riri ticked off, banging on the wall.

Satisifed, you strip your clothes off and hop in the shower, leaving the song on loop and the satified banging of fist against the wall a melody to your ears.

You thought the water would cool you off, but it did the opposite. Riri’s voice echoed in your head as the water caressed down your body. Arousal making your nipples pebble and your pussy slick.

Shit.

Wrapping a towel over your body, you change the song and take another drink. The Litte Einsteins theme song rackets in the air and you start dancing. “GOING THROUGH THE SKY, LITTLE EINSTEINS!”.

A loud argument stops your dancing, and a heavy door shakes the entire apartment. Your heart pounds when a deceptively soft knock comes from your door. With an ill attempt, you try to hide your grin as you open the door. Riri's jeans and top were off and was now only wearing navy boy shorts that cupped her ass so deliciously your mouth watered. It didn’t help that she had on a matching sports spa with absolutely zero padding.

Her body distracted you so much that you forgot you stood in just a bath towel. She chuckles but there’s zero humor behind her eyes as she walks into your room, clicking your speaker off. “How fucking childish are you?”

You shrug, enjoying the way her eyes follow the slight shift off the towel around your breast.

“Really love? You weren’t speechless a fucking minute ago when you were singing Caillou.”

“It was the Little Einsteins.”

Her eyes flash in warning. Shaking her head in disbelief she stalks around you, examining every inch of your exposed skin. “Your completely insane love. You know there's this thing called communication. It’s what sane people do when they want something.” Her words hit the back of your neck. Your eyes widened when a soft kiss is pressed to the ticklish part of your neck, weakening your knees. “This brattish meltdown ain’t gonna work for me. I really shouldn’t reward you ma.”

You don’t mention that your so-called ‘meltdown’ successfully made her come to your room almost naked.

Turning around you push her to sit on your bed. “So let me earn my reward.” With her in direct eyes level with your covered breast, you tug at the towel, and it collapses. Her pupils dilated, appreciating your body. Both of her fists flex against her knees.

Never had being so exposed felt so exhilerating. “I just want a taste,” you whisper. Kneeling down, she helps you take off her shorts.

Some of the anger seemed to have left Riri as she leaned back on her forearms. Her gentle smile returns. “You know Alexis was really upset when she left.”

“I’ll send her a fruit basket to apologize.” Grasping both her toned, smooth legs, you press kisses up her calf, and send a sharp bite behind her knee. “Stop thinking about her.”

You can hear her laughing from up above. “Oh baby did I make you mad?” her breath hitches as you begin sucking hard along her thighs. “Hmm. Okay ma, stop playing around.” The joking tone finally leaves her voice, but you’re have fun letting your lips touch everywhere but her pussy. You hover over her pussy, letting your plump lips lighly move along her lips.

Riri’s hand firmly grasp the back of your head, making you rub against her clit. “Baby, please fuck me.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head at her pleading. You give in and sloppily begin licking her pussy, completely enthralled with the taste, feel, and the headspace of submission. Your pussy throbs as you erratically move your head up and down, just wanting and thoroughly enjoying her taste.

“Shiiit.” Riri drags, panting. “That’s right love. You’re doing such a good job,” she praises. Wanting to see her face, you replace your tongue with a finger and drum it in circles against her clit. Your eyes hood over at the look of pleasure tensing her face and body. Sweat dampens her chest and you can’t help but to lean over and take her breast out from her sports spa, groaning around each nipple. Riri cups your head, impatiently pushing you back down. “I need your mouth love.” Happy to comply, your tongue flicks at her clit in a rhythm that has her back levitating off the bed. As she starts to reach a peak you press two fingers in her. You look down at your fingers thrusting in and out of her, and moan at how wet she is. Your tongue and fingers has her hip moving erratically and throws her over the edge, calling your name. You keep licking her as she comes down, enjoying the way her body shakes and keep tasting her until she pulls you up her body with a groan.

You grin down at her, licking her juices off your lips. “I’ve been thinking about doing that during each class we’ve had.”

Riri brings her head up to kiss you, chuckling. “How am I supposed to pay attention in class now.”

#riri williams x reader #riri x reader #riri williams #shuri #shuriri

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wisteria-cherry · 9 months

Text

forty days and forty nights (day seventeen!)

(merry christmas cherry blossoms)

(i decided to post on saturdays too because i got impatient)

on the third day, bakugo still hadn’t returned. takumi was working with you for the third day in a row, and she still wouldn’t tell you anything.

“sorry, i have to get back to work,” she’d say. “maybe you should ask someone else.” this was disorienting. you didn’t even understand why she wouldn’t tell you.

“please, takumi?” you pleaded. it was kind of pathetic, if you were being honest with yourself. takumi was young, younger than you. she couldn’t be older than 17. she was definitely pretty, too, with long, straight, sandy blonde hair and bangs to frame her pale face nicely, with icy blue eyes that now bore into yours in a constant state of deadpan.

“i’m going to refill the baked goods cabinet.” takumi turned away.

“can’t you at least tell me why you won’t say?” you called. takumi paused.

“because it’s not for me to tell you.” she said, ever wise beyond her years.

“oh.” was your equally wise response as takumi went to the back to do what she’d promised.

for me to find out. you mused takumi’s words as you made rounds, refilling drinks and making sure everyone was taken care of. but how do i find out? you frowned slightly as you poured mrs. hatsugawa her earl grey tea.

you’d just finished refilling another regular’s coffee— ed, an old man who hailed from the United States. he was completely in love with mrs. hatsugawa and really only came to the cafe to see her, too shy to make conversation. however, she was still very in love with her late husband, so it was really a bittersweet, unrequited love that you witnessed every day. ed was always friendly.

“thank you, dear,” ed smiled at you. you wanted to giggle like a schoolgirl— ed, whether intentionally or not, tended to mimic mrs. hatsugawa’s tendencies, like calling younger folks “dear”.

“of course, ed,” you smile before returning to the counter.

how do i find out? you considered for a moment. well, how did other people find out?

they asked, obviously. so, as soon as you got home from your horrifically long shift, you were back on your phone, ready to text bakugo.

your finger hovered over the send button as you stared at your message to him—

hey, you ok?

you deleted the message. maybe you’re making a big deal out of this. maybe he was fine and just didn’t want to get coffee at the café anymore.

maybe it was your fault.

you instantly shook the thought away. he liked you. even mina, during your wednesday outing, had told you what a marvel it was that bakugo was actually tolerant of you. you tried again.

you haven’t come in for awhile, people are talking about you.

no, that won’t do. that makes it seem like you’re trying to make him feel guilty for not coming in. of course, he probably wouldn’t feel guilty, but the point still stands. you stared at the previous messages between you two. there weren’t many. just bakugo telling you mina’s address for the party last week and you thanking him. he didn’t reply after that.

working on your caffeine addiction?

now that just seemed rude, too. one coffee a day isn’t an addiction. plenty of people had one coffee a day and weren’t addicted. you deleted it.

i miss you

delete.

come back soon, won’t you?

delete.

hey bakugo! how’ve you been?

hm.

acceptable.

you figured that it wouldn’t get much better than that. so, you sent it, deciding that it was late and you should go to bed.

you didn’t sleep that night.

“that’s for you to find out.”

(don’t forget to comment + give ur thoughts :)

@k0z3me @cherryblossomclarity @jazzafaye5294

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugo oneshot #mha #slow burn #pro hero bakugo x reader #dynamight #bakugo slow burn #coffee shop au

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cyborg-franky · 1 year

Note

Hi Franky!!! How are you doing today??? How was your week????

Can I please ask for a date with Sabo????

I would like it to be in the early stage of dating, for the rest can you make it a surprise????????

Thank you so much and have a great weekend!!!

(remember to drink water!!!)

-throws water to the ground and downs coffee- Thank yooou and you too <3 and yes have some Sabotage.

Sabo was a little strange, to say the least. He was very fuck the establishment so when he said he wanted to take you somewhere you were unsure what he had in mind. You knew he did a lot of volunteer work between his part-time job so he wasn’t flush with money and you knew he and his brothers had a tendency to skip out on paying for meals.

But you also knew he cared about you a lot and you also loved spending time with him. Sabo was strange but his heart was big.

You got a text with the time and place to meet, it was going to be a late one. The world was dark and the streets empty by the time you walked to the address that Sabo had given you. You stood outside a large building, old, covered in crawling ivy, with big iron gates that said Library Closed and you furrowed your brows.

Sabo made you jump a mile when he popped up behind the gates, waving a hand, a big grin on his face. “Sabo, did you break in?” You said with a nervous laugh and he shook his head, holding up the keys. “This is one of the places I volunteer at,” he said and opened the gate.

The place was dark, for the most part, He used his phone to light your way, going into one of the smaller rooms where lamps lit the room. Rows and rows and rows of books lined the walls. The smell of old paper and ink greeted your nose as he closed the door behind him.

In the center was a fancy table, with food laid out. All sorts of nibbles, sandwiches and drinks. He’d packed a picnic? For the library? “I know this is… strange but I also know how much you like to read.” He shrugged and pulled the chair out.

“And if that was too boring, I brought games..” He said with a grin as he nodded to the bag on the floor with all sorts of board games. “Some pieces are missing though, Luffy ate a lot when he was a kid..”

You both laughed at that part.

So you and Sabo had your picnic, chatting and talking, getting to know one another more. Those conversations filled your heart and made you smile. How he listened to every story you told him.

Soon you were both curled up on one large armchair, reading a book before he sighed “Have I ever told you about the time me Ace and Luffy went to the waterpark..” He set down his book and you chuckled.

He was an amazing storyteller..

#franky date event #sabo x reader #sabo x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece reader insert #sfw #gender nuetral reader

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tired-biscuit · 1 year

Text

Twenty-three Minutes

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: hinata hyūga/kiba inuzuka

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: slightly suggestive content, but nothing too explicit. mutual pining, friends to lovers.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 6.8k+

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: During a prolonged game of seven minutes in heaven, previously sheltered feelings come to light between two friends.

FOR a woman so passionate about clothes and all things fashionable, it comes to no surprise that Ino Yamanaka’s closet ends up being pretty cramped.

Filled with towers upon towers of shoeboxes and a seemingly never-ending row of hangers that all contain pricey jackets, thick sweaters and colourful skirts most of Konoha has yet to see her wear, the already tight space feels even more excruciatingly small when accommodated by a single person, much less two.

Especially if one of those people is a rather tall and burly man, who cannot for the life of him keep still, and the other one is a woman whose anxiety – invoked by that very same man, albeit unintentionally – makes her fidget all over the place, no matter that she so desperately attempts to make herself seem smaller than she actually is.

To be fair, Hinata has good reason to be nervous. During a round of seven minutes of heaven she had never actually agreed to playing with her very, very intoxicated group of friends, the poor – and completely sober – Hyūga had somehow ended up shoved inside a closet with no one other than Kiba; her former teammate and friend.

And much to her astonished surprise, he’s felt more than just that as of late.

Hence the anxiety. And speaking of the dreadful thing, Hinata’s breathing is ragged now as she assesses the current situation she’s wound up in.

Let’s see. She’s all alone in the dark with him – the man she has a mellow, albeit steadily growing crush on. His arm is touching her own with the close proximity. He’s been giving her fleeting glances the entire night. Smiling even more sweetly at her than usual, too; the signature feral grin growing larger and larger with every downed drink.

I mean, who wouldn’t be nervous?

Staring at the sheer, sparkly fabric, which she assumes belongs to a dress of some wicked style she’d never dare wear herself, Hinata attempts to calm down her wild heartbeat by channeling her focus on wondering how such an outrageous number of outfits can possibly belong to one single person.

All right, the person in question is Ino Yamanaka… but still. Surely even a woman like her would have some sort of limit? Right?

Judging by the slight crinkle of his nose when she reaches out to touch the shimmering dress as a failed attempt to seem busy, Kiba seems to be thinking the exact same thing.

“Damn, this place is fuckin’ drenched in perfume, huh,” his gruff voice reaches her ears all of a sudden, the familiar drawl to lace it even more prominent because of the fact that he’s ever so slightly tipsy.

Hinata merely blinks at the curse, seemingly unfazed by it. Over time, she’s learned that all Inuzuka talk in the same crude way; sharp and straight to the point, despite the tendency of swallowing down most of the words as if they can’t be bothered to say them in their entirety.

And yet, they still put in the extra effort to keep them as blunt as possible every chance they get.

Back in the day when they had been mere Genin, Hinata had been shocked to hear what filthy vocabulary Kiba opted to use on the norm right there – amongst elders and other children alike.

She remembers it quite clearly, actually. Being so, so worried about what his mother might think of it if she were to catch him using that kind of coarse language. However after meeting Tsume and spending a single afternoon inside her home with Shino, her worries proved to be entirely unnecessary. After all, the moment the clan leader had opened her mouth, it made sense where Kiba had picked up the habit from.

But now, after spending so many years in his company and going on missions, running errands with him and reporting to the Hokage, she’s grown used to it – somewhat.

If she looks past the rudeness, the way he speaks is almost one of his more likeable features. Right next to his messy brown hair, of course. And his wide smile that he only brings forth whenever he feels like it, as well as the dimples in his cheeks, and the red fang markings that accompany the grin.

Looking at it now, his grin still remains boyish even if he’s no longer the ditzy boy she’s always known him as. After all, standing in that boy’s place is a grown man, now. A fully capable man; a Jōnin with experience underneath his belt – no, not in that way!

Christ. Where had all the years gone? Hadn’t she been participating in low-ranked missions with him and Shino just yesterday?

Speaking of years, it had taken Hinata plenty to acknowledge the change, to force herself to admit that he’s grown into a person she could admire in more ways than one. Especially now, as she turns to look at her former teammate from underneath her lashes, and realizes that the childish roundness of his face and the insolent upturn of his nose have long since disappeared.

Because as far as appearance goes: Kiba has become all sharp and precise lines; all high cheekbones and an equally defined jaw. He’s got these piercing eyes that have the power to pin her down with just one look alone, and full lips that hide a rather dangerous set of teeth she’s never been afraid of – never.

Where her body gently curves, his own cuts. His skin is also darker than hers; tan and sun-kissed, like the sun itself appreciates the fact that he’s willing to walk under it, while it turns her red in return, mocking her by making her look like a damned sea crab.

But it’s not just his looks that have changed. He’s also become more attentive towards others, more easy-going with the passing years, too. The war had changed him, had turned him calmer and gotten rid of most of his immature foolishness, whilst it stirred and riled her up in return.

It’s nothing to fret about, though – his sudden calmness. He’s still got that snarky attitude that always made the hair on the nape of her neck stand to attention, sometimes in a bad way, other times not as much – he’s got plenty of it, actually. However, the only difference is that he’s also got the whip to tame it into submission whenever the need calls for it, now.

Submission.

The word lingers in her head for a tiny bit. Unlike her, Kiba had always been the exact opposite of it. More of the domineering sort. But now, standing in this tight space with him; sharing every single one of her breaths with him and feeling the warmth that just won’t stop radiating from his body, she can’t help but wonder if he’s also like that during… during…

Hinata’s pulse turns erratic once more as treacherous heat creeps up her pale neck and stains her equally as white cheeks with the sudden rush of blood to pool everywhere inside her body. Her thoughts run haywire for a second, and as if on cue, she feels Kiba move again.

The sleeve of his forest green sweater brushes against her cream-coloured one with the movement. She swears that she can feel that wretched heat of him right through the thick layers of cotton they’ve both donned on to fight the unsuspecting cold autumn had brought upon the village. Swears that she can feel it scorch her skin.

“Hina?” As if he can sense the change within her, Kiba also turns to look at her, now. Unlike her, he moves with his entire body; all until the middle of his chest – his heart – is pointing right towards her. As if the call for help she’s silently emitting is too strong for him to ignore, he unknowingly offers her his undivided attention just from the way he stands now.

He has always been like that, ever since they were kids. Always so open and transparent with his thoughts and emotions, he had always been there – right by her side. Soap-sliver thin, translucent. Relentlessly urging her to grow stronger and strive for something big, something special; not once had Kiba turned his back on her, whilst so many others did.

Like her father, for example. And Neji, back when the anger he’d felt for their entire clan had been unfortunately misplaced and aimed towards her instead.

Neji. The bridge between her and her cousin had been repaired at some point, a kernel of hope starting to take root somewhere deep within her as they at long last met at the middle of it. She grew; prospered. But then the war had happened, and its cruel wrath had taken Neji from her for a second time – this time with no chances of ever binding back the ropes that held that bridge together.

She’d cried a fucking river because of the loss; that already delicate bud of nearly blossoming hope withering right back to dust as if it had never even existed before. It had taken both Kiba and Shino literal years to piece her back together. To mend her back into what she once had been, what she has now become again – but this time stronger, and at long last willing to pick up the reins that held the power to control her life.

Hinata still remembers them both sleeping on the floor of her apartment that she’d moved into after the war as a means to isolate herself from her clan. Every single night they were there: Shino asleep on his back, those quirky sunglasses still sitting atop the bridge of his nose, while Kiba and Akamaru lay curled together into a mess of thrashing limbs, blankets and hefty paws.

She had never told Kiba that she heard him mumbling her name in his sleep on some nights, the furrow of his brow tight and his fingers twitching as if he was trying to reach out for the phantom version of her he’d conjured up in his dreams. Had never mentioned the look she’d exchanged with Shino when he caught her reaching over to run her hand through the Inuzuka’s hair in an attempt to calm him down on night number six.

It was easier to pretend, to feign blissful ignorance. After all, Kiba did just the same as he rose with the sun each morning and whisked those pesky late-night thoughts away for the day ahead. Shino did, too.

“Hina? Hey.” Kiba repeats the silly nickname the elders of her clan would never allow him to use, yanking her back from her thoughts with a snap of his fingers in front of her nose; pushing her back to this moment, to him.

The inside of the closet is dark, but she knows that his peculiar eyes allow him to see just fine in it – much like she’s able to use her own to discern any movement hiding in the shadows. And because of them, she now sees him as clear and bright as day as he tilts his head, studying her intently before he asks, “You all right?”

“Yes,” Hinata croaks in answer almost immediately. Her rosy lips form a thin line as she presses them together before she swallows the saliva that’s gathered inside her mouth. The sound is loud in the small space, too loud. So she clears her throat, her tone slightly more even as she says, “I’m fine.”

“Mm. You don’t seem fine to me,” he retaliates immediately, tapping his nose with the tip of his index finger with a small, albeit signaturely arrogant grin. Hinata tries not to look at the glint of his fangs too much when he drawls, “I can smell how nervous you are, you know.”

Unbeknownst to her, Kiba doesn’t mention the fleeting whiff of sweetness he’s caught emitting from her amongst the bitter tang of nervosity. Doesn’t allow himself to get his hopes up, even if he’ll trust his keen sense of smell right to the day he dies and gets lowered into his grave.

So instead, he watches as her pretty eyes dart onto his hand that he still keeps lifted to his face. Her gaze slides across the scars that litter almost every one of his knuckles; rises upwards to acknowledge how blunt and short he prefers to keep his nails, even if he possesses the ability to form claws.

Speaking of them, they’re all fully healed – the scars. Some are fading, others are thinning out, but Hinata still doubts they’ll ever completely go away. After all, the one that runs along the edge of his thumb in one clean, straight line, reaching down right to the upper side of his wrist, is still there even if it’s ages old.

It had been a not-so-kind courtesy from her kunai during one especially intense sparring session when she’d still fought like a goddamn lioness to try and impress her father – her clan. Back when she thought that she actually stood a chance.

Even to this day, Hinata still thinks of Kiba as an idiot for never getting back at her for it. She had been seething with blind rage, not caring if she actually caused him any sort of hurt or injury whilst chasing her father’s approval during what was supposed to be just a simple day of training.

The action had been so unlike her, had been a nearly polar opposite of her normally demure nature, and he had just… endured it. Had encouraged it even, and smiled that wide grin as she stepped back and dropped the kunai at the first sight of a droplet of blood dripping down her teammate’s hand.

He had never once winced as she cleaned up the rather deep gash only minutes later, her emergency medkit splayed wide open in the grass next to her. Had never once complained about it. Just told her that he was proud of her for sticking up for herself. That if she kept it up, she would be able to kick just about anybody’s ass real soon.

Hinata blinks. This closet – this closeness – is going to give her fucking whiplash. She doesn’t sound fully like herself as she says, “I-I’m not nervous.” Yeah, that oughta convince him.

“Aha, sure ya ain’t,” Kiba says, all sarcasm and blatant disbelief as if he can read her thoughts.

He ignores her characteristic stutter that she’s only now slowly ridding herself off - at the ripe age of twenty-five. Pauses to look at the faint tinge of pink on her round cheeks; at the thinnest layer of sweat that gathers on the column of her neck. Christ, she smells so sweet, so sugary. All he wants to do is bury his nose into the crook of her neck; inhale her fucking essence until–

“What?” she asks now, catching the way his pupils expand when he flicks his gaze up to look her in the eyes again. Her voice sounds so small, she hates it. He thinks it’s the cutest thing ever. Especially when she tries to give him a defiant glare.

Long seconds pass. Her heart is pounding like crazy inside her chest. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

“Nothin’,” Kiba finally mumbles, still staring at her. But instead of adding anything more to his answer, he rather sucks in a deep breath through his nose. As if trying to read her more thoroughly. Trying to pinpoint the exact emotions, the exact hormones that are altering her scent.

As if coming up with a plan.

Hinata swears that her nerves twitch with anticipation at how he quietly grunts after the inhale – twitch with whatever the hell it is that makes her feel like her pulse is thundering inside her ears. It just makes her sweat all the more. Makes her scent turn all the more prominent.

The tension in the small closet rises with inhumane speed when he tilts his head to the side and looks at her with a glint inside his eyes that she could only describe as purely predatory. He’s different now; his jaw clenched tight and his gaze so intense that it pins her down to the spot, making her breathing hitch in the back of her throat.

Flames are beginning to lick up her legs at the heat of his stare that burns like a forge, now. She can feel its warmth nipping at the tips of her toes, her calves, her thighs as they continue to run their ember tongues along her now-flushed skin.

“I’m not nervous,” she repeats meekly, as if the denial can serve as a shield of some sort. Her upper lip quivers in the same way her whisper does. She says the words but doesn’t even believe them herself, how silly.

Kiba seems to notice it, too, because a dumb smirk is plastering itself onto his even dumber face as he takes a step towards her and taunts, “Not nervous ‘bout what? Being stuck in here with me? All alone, jus’ you and me?”

And despite her instincts telling her not to, Hinata pushes back when he leans in, towards one wall of Ino’s stupidly cramped closet. She guesses that he’s just toying with her like he always does; but fuck, he’s so close to her now that she can smell the cool scent of his nettle shampoo and the spearmint chewing gum that sits on top of his tongue.

For how long have they been stuck inside this closet? Surely longer than seven minutes? He wouldn’t just pounce at her this fast. This quickly.

Right?

“C’mon, Hina,” he mutters, his voice deeper than usual; so raspy and warm that it reminds her of crackling wood in a fireplace she never got the chance to lounge in front of. “Just admit it. I can smell how you feel, you know damn well that you can’t hide that kind of stuff from me.”

“I-I–” she starts, heart suddenly hammering; jumping inside her ribcage from the surge of adrenaline to shoot throughout her. “I’m not... not–”

“Not nervous?” Kiba finishes for her, still advancing closer. “Yeah, you’ve already told me that. Now do me a favour and tell me what I wanna hear instead.” Dear god, has he always been this big? This demanding?

His intimidating presence fills the small space so rapidly that she feels like fainting. Even the previously pink blush that had lingered on her cheeks deepens into a furious shade of scarlet. It tingles across her entire face, the blush. Makes it prickle with heat.

Hinata blinks, her long eyelashes rapidly fluttering. It’s a struggle to form sentences from how fast her brain deteriorates to pathetic mush from being this flustered. “N-No, I–”

“You what, mm? Know that scent doesn’t lie?” He’s so close to her now that he’s towering over her in the dark, cornering her and caging her right between himself and the wall.

His scent envelops her, overrides Ino’s perfume that surrounds them and makes her toes curl in her knee-high socks. He smells heavy; like the rain and the rich soil it hits, nothing like her dainty notes of lavender and vanilla. A forest, something ancient and powerful. It’s enough to turn her slightly dazed, if the nearly non-existent proximity hadn’t done that to her already.

She’s frozen to the spot as he twirls a strand of her silky midnight hair around his finger before tucking it behind her ear. And whilst doing so, he accidentally – or not – brushes the sensitive spot right where her jaw meets her neck.

The immediate zing of electricity to surge through her makes Hinata’s knees wobble. Makes her thighs clench together and her vision spin. She sags against the wall, nearly going limp from how soft her legs turn.

But when he reaches out to catch her, her hand shakes as she suddenly slams it flat against his chest. Right where his heart is. Her fingers clutch his forest green sweater, pretty nails, clear of any sort of polish, digging into the cotton; desperately clawing.

“Stop it,” she blabbers, evident panic clear in her voice. “You can’t– No, no, n-no... Enough!”

Kiba stops at the jumble of words she throws at him. Looks at her. Really looks at her. At her wide eyes, at the blush that still sears her entire face, making her look like a ripe tomato. At the quick rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathes, and breathes, and breathes, as well as at the sweat that gleams on not just her neck now, but also her brow.

And then, he chuckles. This deep sort of rumble that’s pleasant to echo within his chest. That outright confuses her. Especially when that same chuckle turns into a snicker, that finally turns into full-blown laughter.

“Wh–...” Hinata starts, heart still thumping, thrill still coursing her veins. She still feels light-headed. “What’s so funny?”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, Hina,” Kiba manages to let out between boyish snickers, his eyes crinkling with guilty delight. He wipes at the corners of them, now, upper lip quivering, showing off one pointy fang. “I couldn’t resist, hah…! You should have seen the look on your face, ahah!”

The raven-haired Hyūga blinks, feeling the colour draw away from her face, tinting her cheeks back into a faint rosy shade of blush instead of the previously intense red. “What are you going on about?”

“I was just messing with ya,” he explains through a wheeze, nose scrunching when he grins again – all broad and wild. He takes a shuddering breath, tries to quiet down the little giggles that just won’t stop erupting from him before he scratches the back of his neck and looks at her again.

Her brows lift, hiding beneath her bangs as she waits for further explanation.

One corner of Kiba’s mouth kicks upward at how sternly she looks up at him this time. “Did you really think I’d believe you’d be nervous ‘cause of me? C’mon.” He pauses, and looks her directly in the eye as if to challenge her before flicking his wrist, dismissing her. “I know I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb. Have some faith in me, please.”

Hinata’s stare continues to remain unmoving, even if her legs still feel like jelly. Christ, who knew he had such an impact on her? The entire thing lasted what, a mere minute? And here she is – mere putty in his hands already.

She doesn’t comment on his level of intelligence, just asks, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

His smile falters slightly at the question, at the tone. Even his eyes seem to lose just a smidge of that mischievous glint as he simply shrugs and says, “Well, you’re still pining after Naruto, are you not?”

Silence stretches between the two friends despite the small space. The heavy, slightly uncomfortable kind.

“Everyone makes me nervous,” Hinata says finally. “Not just Naruto.”

Saying his name doesn’t bring the thrill it used to. Doesn’t make her heart clench, nor her tongue taste any sweeter. She cares about the future Hokage, of course she does, but not in that kind of way anymore. Not in that desperately, hopelessly infatuated kind of way that he never seemed to return.

He didn’t even see her, after all. At least not in any way Kiba did. Like he still does, actually, even to this day.

“Yeah, but he’s the only one that could… ya know,” Kiba finds himself running his mouth when she turns quiet again, attempting to fill the silence with words, words, words, “provoke you in that kind of way. ‘Cause of how madly in love with him you are, and all that lovey-dovey crap, hah.”

“Being in love is not ‘crap’,” she mumbles at his fake laugh, the curse tasting foreign on her modest tongue. Even he blinks in surprise at the fact that she used it.

But then he shakes his head. Loses the smile.

“Yeah, it is,” he says.

“No, it isn’t,” she counters right back. “Why would it be?”

“‘Cause all it does is bring you pain,” he retaliates finally. He pauses, that short beat of silence skipping as his eyes suddenly start to avoid her. “I mean, I don’t know ‘bout you, but that seems like a pretty crappy thing to me.”

Hinata gets the feeling that he isn’t talking about her struggles concerning love when he says the words.

But instead of saying anything, she just watches as he pulls back from her then, giving her space to breathe; to calm down. His touch to her neck had left the skin there burning in its wake, but that’s not why she frowns now. No, the reason as to why she pouts, bottom lip just barely jutting out, is rather because of the lack of that exact physical connection.

Kiba looses a sigh at the sight of that freaking pout. Runs a frustrated hand through his chestnut hair. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“C’mon… Don’t be upset with me, it was just a joke.”

“Well, I am.”

“Ugh.”

She sits down next to him, still wearing that adorable pout on her face, when he motions her to join him by patting the warm floorboards right after he slides down the wall and plops down onto them himself. The closet is so small that their thighs are touching. His joggers rub against her bare skin, making her pleated skirt rustle.

Neither of them moves their leg away.

They stare at the dark for a moment, not focusing on anything in particular. The slits that are his pupils grow wider when she sighs herself and rests her head on his shoulder, they eat up the white space where his irises should have been. Meanwhile, Hinata’s own eyes serve as polar opposites to his own; the milky circles dilating with no visible pupils in sight.

Briefly, she wonders what the eyes of their children would look like. What abilities they’d possess. What kind of life that would be for her. If he’d be as much of a good husband to her as he is a friend.

“Hina?” His tone is careful when it reaches her again.

“Mm?” she mumbles, her soft cheek nudging his shoulder as she readjusts herself. She brings her knees closer to her chest, but makes sure her skirt stays in place.

“I’m sorry.” Genuine this time. Torn.

“Did you really mean what you said,” she utters after a brief pause of thought. “About love?”

He’s silent for a moment, too. As if contemplating. She’s just about to switch the subject to something a bit more ordinary, something a bit more safe, when he finally says, “No.”

Silence lingers once more. And then she says, “I’m not in love with Naruto anymore.”

She can feel him stiffen beside her. Can hear his breath ever so slightly shudder as he whispers, “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“I’ve found someone new.”

“Oh.”

He rests his head atop her own. Inhales the fruity scent of her shampoo and cherishes the sugar in it whilst he still can. “Not to overstep, but… You don’t need to love someone just to feel fulfilled, ya know.”

“I know,” she replies, his words making a rather delicate part of her heart glow, glow, glow. “But trust me when I say that even I was surprised by it… It happened so unexpectedly, even though it had kind of… Always been there. In a way.”

“Mm,” Kiba hums, deep in thought. “So, wanna tell me what the lucky bastard is like?”

Hinata chuckles at the question. At the fact he’s unknowingly called himself a bastard just now. She rests her hands atop her lap, fingers intertwining together.

“Well… He’s rather annoying and stubborn. Loud… Like, so, so loud; you wouldn’t believe how loud he is.” Her insides warm up when he snickers at the attention she gives to the word. “But… He’s also genuine. Incredibly passionate and determined. Open, and supportive, and loving... Gosh, he’s so loving.”

“Okay, damn, don’t start drooling all over my shoulder ‘cause of this dude, now.” Kiba chuckles again as he mulls her descriptions over. Looks up at the ceiling. His toes wiggle as he thinks. “He sounds a lot like Naruto.”

“No, he’s different.” Firm, her answer. He’s his own person. Special in his own peculiar way.

“Is he nicer or somethin’?”

“Well…” The corners of her lips twitch. “Only when he wants to be, I suppose.”

“Towards you, I mean. Does he, like,” he mumbles, trying to find the right words, “see you? Treat you well?”

He’s the one. He really is. Maybe it’s time to admit it not just to herself, but to him as well.

Maybe.

Hinata stills at that; heart beginning to thunder again. Her fingers fidget, palms starting to feel clammy as she fiddles with the hem of her skirt. “I don’t know, Kiba,” she says, her voice so, so quiet that he can barely hear her despite the closeness and his sharp hearing. “You tell me?”

Kiba goes silent for a long moment, as if he’s attempting to paint the bigger picture inside his head. And then, at long fucking last, his breath hitches. His heart begins to race. Realization begins to dawn upon him and settles in, in, in.

“What?” He turns completely rigid, spine straightening, causing Hinata to lift her head from his shoulder. His face goes blank, eyes widening in the dark again. He swallows, not caring how stupid he may look as he repeats a meek, “What?”

“What?” she echoes innocently, the expression that lingers on her face completely coy. “What is it?”

“Are you saying– No,” he starts, cutting himself off with a wild shake of his head. As if he doesn’t dare believe the mere thought of her returning his feelings. As if he doesn’t dare say it. “You better not be fuckin’ with me right now as some sort of sick revenge… ‘Cause if you are, I swear to god I’ll–”

“I’m not messing with you, Kiba.”

His face flushes red now. This deep, crimson shade that almost matches the colour of the fang markings on his cheeks that tell everyone what clan he belongs to. “Stop messing with me. It’s not funny.”

“I’m not messing with you,” Hinata repeats sadly. She frowns at how lowly he actually thinks of himself. At how stubbornly he’s beaten it into his head that he doesn’t deserve to be admired by her, much less loved. For so long that he’s actually started to believe the denial.

He sucks in a deep breath. Through his mouth this time, to fill his lungs quicker with air because his chest feels way too tight all of a sudden. “But I’m not–”

I’m not Naruto.

“I know that you aren’t,” she interrupts him gently, taking his bigger hand and clasping it with both of her smaller ones. His callouses scrape against her own, thick fingers curling around her daintier ones by pure instinct. She can’t help but smile at the affectionate touch he seems to execute without even thinking about it. He’s always known how to make her feel seen. “I never asked of you to be him.”

“But I’m not… special, like he is,” Kiba continues, his voice so low as if he’s ashamed to admit it. “I didn’t– I can’t do the stuff he does. I’ve tried, but I just… can’t.”

“So? You’re special to me,” she says and it’s true. She blinks. Runs her tongue along her front teeth. “Do you really think I’m that shallow to only fall in love with a man because he’s the strongest of them all?”

“No, but I do think that you need somebody like him,” he retaliates stubbornly. “You’re, like… royalty, or whatever. And he’s a war hero, a-a…”

“I don’t need anyone,” she cuts in again, looking up at him underneath her lashes with fire burning behind her pale eyes. “You’ve said it yourself; that I don’t need anyone to feel fulfilled… And yet, I want you.”

“Why?” He can’t understand it. How? Why? Why him?

“Because I see you,” she answers, frowning at the evident doubt that’s still present in his own eyes. “It took me a while, and I am sorry for that, but it’s true when I say that I finally see you; see the things you did and continue to do for me.”

Kiba’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. The prickle of one fang that the action invokes helps when it comes to grounding him, because if it didn’t, he’s sure as hell that he’d be floating up towards the clouds right now. Like a balloon – right through the ceiling of Ino Yamanaka’s closet.

She wants him. Sees him. Him, him, him; nobody else. At long last, he can stop pretending. Can slowly rid himself of all the doubts and the insecurity he’s managed to hide deep underneath his thick skin. Can stop wondering if he’ll ever be good enough; ever be enough.

“Kiba?” Hinata whispers, and goddamn had his name always sounded so good, coming from her mouth like that? Always so pleasant?

“Yeah?” he whispers back. Her face is so close to his own now that he can smell her strawberry chapstick and see the subtle dip of her Cupid's bow. At how faintly it trembles as she reaches out to run her hand through his unruly hair before resting it atop his heaving chest.

She’s the one to take a deep breath this time around as she tries to calm down; to mentally prepare herself before she asks, “Do you want me, too?”

Does he want her? Does he fucking want her? What a stupid question. What a silly, foolish question.

“Yeah,” Kiba croaks out, heart pounding – hurting in the best way possible. His voice cracks; he hates it. “‘Course I want you, Hina. I-I’ve always wanted you. Ever since we were kids.” She’s so close. Goddammit, she’s so, so close. If he pushed forward by a mere inch, he could probably kiss her, oh, Christ.

Just the mere thought of her soft lips touching his own makes him feel dizzy. Makes his head spin; brain doing the same cartwheels his own heart executes in his ribcage. Thump, thump, fucking thump.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks. He can’t fathom the fact that she’s actually bolder than him for once.

“Yeah,” he repeats like a parrot, like a lovesick moron because he is one. “Mhm, yeah, yeah. Of course.”

Honestly, he’ll consider himself the luckiest man alive if he actually manages to live for long enough to experience a kiss from her. This beautiful, kind-hearted, nurturing deity of a woman. Because judging by all the thrill that’s pumping through him right now, he doubts that he will.

And yet, he’s still around as Hinata leans in; cautiously, warily. Not because she’s scared of him and his brash nature, more so because she’s enticed by it – enticed by him. Her cheeks are so rosy, he wants to kiss them and touch them to feel their warmth. To squeeze them until her lips purse, and–

His jumbled train of thoughts diminishes and turns into pure silence when her mouth presses against his own gently and she at long last, after so many years of confusion, and lingering glances, and yearning touches and sleepless nights spent tossing and turning in separate beds, kisses him.

And fuck, the kiss is so soft. So sweet. His hand lifts to touch her cheek, feeling its warmth, her own two back to holding onto his other one that had never left her lap. Stroking his knuckles in a way that she can feel the scar she’d given him all those years ago and that he, unbeknownst to her, wears proudly today.

He melts completely into her. Melds himself with her very soul through every panting brush of lip. He calls himself an arrogant bastard, but he’s become as soft as a teddy bear that she gets to squeeze and play with to her heart's content.

Every kiss they exchange continues to grow in intensity. Turns to subtle click of teeth and swipe of tongue. Their lips don’t touch in the usual needy, feral tempo he opts for, but it’s still one that he can appreciate just as deeply – even more so, now that he thinks about it. Like he’s wound up in an alley he’s not at all familiar with, but surprisingly enjoys the stay in nonetheless.

Kiba pushes into her more deeply, makes her release this shuddering gasp that lights his body on fire as he takes over. He wants to pull her into his lap – to ravage her, taste her all over because he’s been waiting for this day, for this moment, for so long. To cherish her, adore her in more sinful ways. Make her feel special with his hands, mouth, tongue.

And how couldn’t he wish for that? After all, Hinata, his Hinata, tastes like sugar and everything nice, countering the bitter taste of beer he possesses on his own tongue because of the little party they’ve still got going on.

Shit, the party–

The closet door slides open a mere moment after Hinata senses movement and Kiba catches another scent. They part swiftly; with a quiet, albeit slightly lewd pop! Thank god for being ninjas.

The two rapidly blink at the sliver of light to seep into the closet as the third member of the former Team 8, Shino Aburame, gives both Kiba and Hinata a pointed look through his tinted spectacles, now. Their respective heartbeats are still all over the place by the time he peers inside the darkness himself.

They watch as he looks down, looks at their entwined fingers; at Kiba’s hand that still rests on Hinata’s cheek. At their panting chests. At how closely they sit together, how fucking red they’ve become.

“Hmm,” is everything Shino contributes to the conversation that’s yet to begin. Their friend merely quirks a dark brow as if he knows exactly what they’ve been up to.

And perhaps he does, Kiba thinks. Hiding a tiny bug amongst so many clothes the wretched Yamanaka owns, would be a piece of cake for the nosy insect user. But alas, who on earth would believe him if he exposed Shino as the true gossiper he actually was?

Luckily for him, however, Hinata is the first one to stumble into movement out of the trio. Her eyelashes can’t stop fluttering as she stutters a tiny, “H-Hi, Shino.”

Goodness, she’s so pink in the face; the blush blooming as furiously as ever now that they’ve been caught. So cute. Especially as she releases Kiba’s hand to run her fingers through her hair frantically, trying to smooth down the strands he’d managed to ruffle whilst kissing her like a madman.

“Hey, man,” Kiba plays along, seemingly unable to wipe off the dopey grin that remains plastered on his face, now. Still wearing the wild grin, he pushes from the floor and offers Hinata his hand to help her back up to her feet as soon as he stands up to his full height.

Swiftly standing right next to him a moment later, Hinata never lets go of Kiba’s hand. Neither does he let go of hers. Of course he’ll hold her hand if she wishes for him to hold it. At this point, he’ll do just about anything for her.

His eyes are on Shino as he clears his throat, trying so hard to be casual when he says, “What’s up?”

Shino’s gaze dips to their entwined fingers once more. He stares at how Kiba strokes Hinata’s knuckles so tenderly that the action almost seems alien for a brute like him, and how she shyly lowers her head until that curtain of midnight hair almost entirely obscures her from the view of the two men.

It doesn’t last long, however. After all, Kiba feels the need to tuck it behind her ear rather quickly. Feels the need to make her feel seen even quicker.

So after a silent couple of seconds, the poor Aburame finally looses an exasperated sigh at the new item to stand before him; at how their entire dynamic is surely bound to change, now. Gesturing them to follow, he merely utters, “Time’s up.”

“Is it, now?” Kiba drawls in answer. The Inuzuka swears that he can still feel the tingle of Hinata’s lips on his own. When he pokes the tip of his tongue out, he tastes strawberries – sweet!

“Yes,” Shino replies, stepping out of the closet so the pair can do the same. With his back turned towards them, he adds somehow amusedly, “It’s been up sixteen minutes ago, actually.”

Hinata and Kiba exchange a look as they head back for the living room where loud chatter suddenly erupts; all of their friends most surely anticipating their return and the juicy story to follow.

His grin grows, stretching even wider than usual when she gives him a single nod of her head. A silent approval.

Who knew that all it took was a cramped closet and twenty-three minutes to spare in the dark?

#this is my first character x character fic and i'm lowkey nervous lol #pls be kind #kiba x hinata #kibahina #naruto fanfiction #hinata x kiba #kiba inuzuka #hinata hyuuga

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human-psyche · 9 months

Text

HOUSE OF THE RISING RED.

CHAPTER 1

Y/n was never quite like the rest of her family, she is different and perhaps that sets her apart from her mother and puts her at odds with her sister. When all was said and done, she accepted the situation as what it was, even if she felt furious for her father's old habits, or stressed by her mother's ire, even if her sister continues to be full of caprice. Even if, behind them, she attempts to salvage their bonds一 not the home of four decorated walls which is no longer theirs, but the home they built atop unsteady rocks and memories, wedged apart by personal ambitions and selfishness. Something is missing, it doesn't mean she wasn't affected like them by the sudden change of their lives, she knows what it entailes and how nothing can reverse their circumstances. She was glad to lose just a front row to a life of riches and lavish than the people she cares about, capable to adapt to anything she needs to.

Her father likes women, he likes to drink, play cards, skip nights at home and overstimate his success, he's by far not a worthy husband or an attentive father. Her mother is the epitome of an independent, fake woman who could not tolerate their current lack of luxury, a harsh mother and a wife who detests her role. As her older sibling, her sister gives the impression that her greatest achivement is to destroy her happiness, which comes in many forms. She's caught in the middle, between the precarious marriage of her parents and the strained relationship with her sister, and thus L/n Y/n has become the sane axis of their family, a girl with a creative mind reflected into her passion and the ability to understand so much. She's true to herself, she's unique in her own right and misunderstood.

People watch her through tinted glass, they see her colors, not her depth. In a garden of posh flowers, she is a coarse rose, growing a backbone woven of thorns. She's pure and raw at the same time, a trait of naturality that seems to cause her mother's dissapointment and earn her sister's envy.

Their three storey house in New York center is gone, their perfume store, their restaurant, their money, their popularity, their friends and socialites, their influence and title, their vacations and events: it's all over. Both her parents contributed to this ending, and ocassionally her sister. Left with nothing but a part of the money they received after selling the house and covering debts, the family is now on their trip to retire to Belle-Île-en-Mer, located off the south coast of Brittany, western France. Her father has spoken of a mansion owned by a distant relative who has inherited it from someone they knew as "old Franco" during their childhoods, a grandfather common down the line of ancestry between three separate families, their sole plan to starting over without being so deprived that they would need to rent a small, dingy apartment.

Her mother insisted it was a good way to begin again but she too complains. Y/n knows why she fought with her father to get them to proceed with this move, she is not used to doing house chores and leaving the city's elite meant she'd have no choice. Here, she can afford the maids hired by the owner for the maintenance of the mansion, and a little prestige to her neighbours who'd believe they are still somwhere up on the ladder of society. It's a winning deal from a perspective, and a worse chapter from another.

To her, Belle-île-en-Mer presents a fresh scenery, with its solitude, sea views and architectural tendencies. To her mother, it's deplorable and depressing, to her father fruitless of his businesses and what he was used to in America, and to her sister it feels like a joke: she's already bored of it.

In order to get there, the family took a more traditional method of travel after getting to to another french city via the plane, boarding a boat that also transported their baggages, and then renting a car once they got off at the port. With its population and vast nature, the island extends as a settlement made up of towns and several other areas, littered with cliffs, shorelines and beaches, many of its attractions including visiting tourist intended spots. It appears to be peaceful and practical.

"This place is awful, I miss the city." Her sister's tone elicits annoyance from the backseat of the car, her arm hanging off the wide open window.

"We are not going back to New York and that is final." their mother clips in return, her sharp retort silencing her eldest daughter.

Y/n takes out her earbuds, opting to enjoy the pictoresque, refreshing atmosphere passing them by throughout the car ride. She's actually satisfied with the climate and overall island, or atleast what she sees so far, she prefers it over the exhausting hustle and bustle of the city. In the warm, summer light of the day soaked with the clear smell of ocean, it seems like a dream: there's not one thing out of place to stir unease.

Their father clears his throat, though he sounds resentful: "Jeon Jungkook is the owner of the mansion. He's waiting for our arrival and will likely give us a tour so that we can get accustomed to the town."

"We know his name but how old is he?" her sister asks.

"A little bit older than Y/n. So I've heard. Old man Franco brought him one day to the mansion and he's lived there ever since, apparently he's his nephew from a distant branch of the family. Not even your aunt knows much. After grandfather's death, everyone was surprised when his will was opened: Jungkook inherited the mansion and all the land."

"Technically, it should have belonged to us or to Namjoon's extended family."

"Hmm, so he's rich and a good looker."

"Whoever told you that?"

"Aunt Charlotte did."

"If you'd marry him, that will be wonderful for us all. You would also own the mansion after marriage." the mother's scheming a potential future already.

It was always like this: one of her sister's top priorities is targetting a suitable guy she'd marry, with the support of their mother.

"Where is his family?" Y/n wonders, leaning forward into her seat.

"Dead. A horrible car accident." Her father replies.

That's a little strange but not unusual. It can occur to anyone, the rate of accidents is high. She perceives it as a tragedy worth of compassion, although she can't find it in her to believe Jeon Jungkook needs sympathy...maybe because she imagines him as a cold, recluse land owner. Plus, her sister has dibs on him, and he's a bit older than her, she has no intention to try and get along with him.

The background progresses into a richer neighbourhood as their car ride continues, the streets being lined with mansions and not the modest houses at the bottom of the hills.

The last mansion on the left proves to be their destination seeing as her father slows down and parks the car in front of a set of ominous, solid gates. Their mother tells them to get out, a man dressed in an impeccable white dress shirt and slacks, as well as white gloves, ushering them inside the property's premises.

"Welcome. I am Kim Seokjin, the mansion's butler. Mr. Jeon is waiting for you." he's stone faced, not a hair out of order and he speaks as if he has no time to spare them.

While her mother and sister strut confidently, Y/n glances around, feeling dwarfed by the large home laid before them. The trees guarding the path to the front door, the rose gardens, the statues, stairs and balconies complementing the antique style of the building, its structure settled on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea below in the back.

She spots a male approaching them halfway, who must be Jungkook.

Even for her, a girl who is hard to impress, he has an undeniable appeal. His hair is slicked handsomely to one side, lighting his sharp yet soft features. He sports a regular suit, his shirt unbuttoned that it teases a strip of his skin, his chest looking like sculpted marble. His poise is aristocratic, there's an inviting air to his mien, definitely not what she expected.

"Mr. L/n, glad you made it." he exchanges a firm handshake with her father, followed by kissing her mother's hand, earning her appreciation with the gentlemany act.

"Mrs. L/n, I hope you'll enjoy your new home. It'd be a pity if a woman as beautiful as yourself doesn't receive our best accomodations."

"You don't look your age yourself, Mr. Jeon, thank you. You have such a young face." Her mother throws her head back, laughing.

"Hey there. It's a pleasure to meet you." Her sister sticks her hand out, which he kisses just as he did their mother's, her eyes roving his body.

"The pleasure is all mine, miss." he smirks, turning to the one family member he had yet to meet.

When Jungkook sees her, his expression darkens, shock flashing into his gaze. His fingers twitch akin the whim that he's about to reach out to her, to touch her, except he doesn't, only a whisper passing through his parted lips: "Vernice...?"

"Sorry?" she's a little freaked out. "My name is Y/n actually, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Jeon."

Despite the slip up of mistaking her for a woman from his past whom he was very tightly connected to, Jungkook regains his composure quickly with a charming smile, every trace of his earlier reaction gone like it wasn't ever present. "I apologise. Please call me Jungkook, Y/n. Just that, for you."

"But I一"

His palm lifts, signaling to shush her, that should she call him "Mr. Jeon" ever again, he'll take it as an offense.

She nods reluctantly and tags behind her sister as he guides them inside the mansion, the way he spoke to her having sounded different than how he did to her family, dare she say, more intimate...

If the mansion exhibits such authenticity on the outside, its interior is even more elegant and grandiose. Spiralling stairs and artistic statues, chandeliers, portraits, antique items, such as vases, clocks, and so, so many books. Its value and preserved state could put a museum to shame, all kept in good shape and not touched by the decay of time.

"Mr. L/n, Mrs. L/n, your bedroom is upstairs, the first door on the right. Y/n's sister, yours is next to your parents. Y/n..." Jungkook lists their living arrangements, contemplating her placement within the house. "You will take the fourth room on the left." he decides.

It turns out her room is by far the best, it isn't as spacious as her parents's bedroom nor set for a princess like her sister's, but the view it provides from the balcony compensates for the tighter space. It has a bed, a table and a chair, a cherry wood crafted vanity, a closet, and its own bathroom. Three withered roses are forever dried in the crystal vase on the nightstand. Everything's cleaned and devoid of dust, yet that single detail makes Y/n question if someone had inhabited this room a long time ago.

That night, she sits on the bed, cross legged, curiously browsing the internet about the island and its history...as if that would provide insight about a certain someone.

Nobody really knows why their grandfather preferred Jungkook of all people other than his own close, blood relatives but there has to be a reason to it...

a/n: thank you for all the likes! do reblog, and follow me for more bts content.

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x y/n #bts jungkook #x reader #bts #kim seokjin #bts seokjin #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #bts v #romance #dark fantasy #vampire #mystery

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carsonian · 10 months

Text

Cap-IM Rec Week: Wonderous Wednesday

@cap-ironman, happy Wednesday:

"do you fondue?" by calciseptine (@calciseptinefic)

Tony has done crazy things in the name of food, but falling in love with Steve Rogers really takes the cake.

The layers to this... the layers... it's a stack of pancakes. I know you thought I was gonna say onion but NO. Pancakes. Delicious, fluffy pancakes. Just like in the fic!

"front row seats" series by Annie D (scaramouche) (@no-gorms)

A Steve/Tony series that follows one of the branching timelines set up by Avengers: Endgame.

This is the ADCU: Annie D Cinematic Universe, and buddy? It's everything you could ever want. Shenanigans are shenaning. Reader experience is RAW serotonin shots over knowing who interloper "Grant" is. So much rubbing hands together all villainous and going "ha ha ha" at the antics. Annie D made sure the whole circus came together for this one, and boy oh boy is it a hoot!

"such a devotion of the heart" by drunkonwriting (@queenerdloser)

Persuasion AU. Tony is a disillusioned heir on the outs with his wealthy, spend-thrift father, trying to finish his master's degree so he can work on engineering instead of joining the House of Lords. When he has to return home to prepare his family house to be rented, he doesn’t expect the new tenants to be Bucky Barnes and his new wife - old friends of Tony’s spurned ex-fiancé, Captain Steve Rogers. Tony, still heart-broken over their falling out, has no intention of meeting Captain Rogers again if he can help it. Captain Rogers has other plans.

WIP and an AWESOMELY written WIP. The worldbuilding is rich and chunky and filled with delicious little nuggets. Every character slots into perfect place. Alllll the Persuasian AUs please and thank you.

"we pick ourselves undone" by laramara (@commandersteverogers)

It might appear that award-winning surgeon Tony Stark, the head of neurosurgery at Shield Hospital, well and truly has his life together. Now if he could only figure out how to tell people that his father, world class neurosurgeon Howard Stark, is locked away in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s, devise a way to get Chief Fury off his back for good, and work out what the hell he’s going to do about the weird on-again-off-again thing he has going with the head of cardio, he’d finally have everything sorted.

I've recced this before so I won't go into it too much here but rest assured it's a BANGING good time.

"You Gave Me A Home" by Moonrose001

Since Registration passed on and Sentinels started guarding the streets instead of superheroes, the USA has come to resemble Dystopia more than an united country. A young group of masked teenagers are fighting back the undemocratic and unconstitutional ways, lead by Captain America. And Steve Rogers is a handsome, but awkward student leading a double life. He is also head and heels in love with Tony Stark, the son of the government's arms dealer.

I read this soooo long ago, before I got into Steve/Tony, and I couldn't locate it for the longest motherfucking time! So happy to have found it again and to be able to recommend it because boy oh boy is this a ride, and golly gee, if the view at the peak ain't the best one you ever seen! This is the apex of what fanfiction can be--someone with genuinely fascinating ideas taking the best of one universe and implanting it into a new one. I thoroughly, thoroughly enjoyed this.

"Ad Astra per Aspera" by MonstrousRegiment and Pangea

It’s safe to say most people get off on the wrong foot with Tony Stark, but it’s also safe to say Steve Rogers makes a conscious effort to get along with everyone, and people might think one tendency compensates the other one and equilibrium is achieved. A neutral ground. That’s not what happens. Or, the story of how Tony Stark and Steve Rogers met and fell in love. A space opera with a lot of cursing, a lot of drinking, and a little bit of singing.

SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE! What more needs to be said? Yeah, that's what I thought.

And that's all the wonder I got this Wednesday!

Go forth: SteveTony lovers, fuckers, ambassadors, champions, perverts, freaks, losers, dreamers, legends! Read, re-read, kudo, comment, spread legs and spread love.

#cutting this way too close #thank u timezones for the help #capimrecweek #wonderous wednesday #stevetony #fic recs #stevetony fic recs

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aldbooks · 11 months

Text

Summer ACOTAR writing circle hosted by @azrielshadowssing - pairing Emorie

Cool for the Summer Part 1 - 1808 words

Part 2 | Part 3

Read below or on AO3

Wind whipped through the open windows of Emerie’s truck as she navigated through the quiet streets. Gwyn sat in the backseat, sipping an iced coffee and belting out the lyrics to the song on the radio while Nesta grumbled from where she slumped in the passenger seat.

“You have far too much energy for this early in the morning. It’s unnatural.”

Emerie snorted as Gwyn ignored their grumpy friend entirely, grinning like a fool. She looked downright adorable in her white lifeguard tank and matching visor, her copper hair pulled into a perky high pony, mirrored aviators perched on her nose despite the low light of the early morning. She was practically bouncing in her seat as she sang. Gwyn had always been a morning person, the exact opposite of Nesta’s night owl tendencies. Emerie, who was neutral on the subject, had never been quite sure if her friend’s high energy levels in the morning were natural, or due to the copious amounts of caffeine she often drank.

Rolling her head to the side, Nesta glared at Emerie over the top of her cateye sunglasses. “I hate you for dragging me out of bed this early to deal with her.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Emerie chuckled. “You were the one who insisted we should all work here together this summer.”

Nesta returned her glare to the window, a few wisps of hair that had escaped the braid wrapping around her head, dancing in the wind. “Yeah, well, that was before I realized it required predawn hours.”

“They told us what the hours would be during the interview. You still agreed.” Silently, Emerie agreed that she hadn’t quite anticipated the ungodly hours either when she’d submitted to the job in a desperate attempt to avoid her family as much as possible over the summer. Luckily, they wouldn’t always have the opening shift.

Nesta made a dismissive noise and continued to sulk as they finally approached the country club’s parking lot and drove to the small section at the back they’d been instructed to park in for their shifts. Piling out of the car, Gwyn still humming under her breath, they entered the pool’s admin building, dropping their things off in the employee lockers and helped each other slather on sunscreen before they began the various tasks required to open the pool for the day.

Gwyn opened the storage area and began bringing out the various flotation devices available for the pool’s patrons, Nesta disappeared to fetch towels from laundry while Emerie began setting up lounge chairs and umbrellas. Within an hour, the pool deck was set and ready, the bathrooms and various amenities rooms were checked and the doors unlocked. A family consisting of three very energetic children and their tired mother were already waiting outside as soon as the pool opened and Emerie kept an eye on them from her elevated chair as the mother attempted to wrangle them all into floaties before they jumped into the water.

The morning was relatively slow as guests began to slowly trickle in. Someone had brought their own speakers and was playing reggaeton at a low enough volume that no one bothered them about it. The music was a welcome addition to the background noise of screaming children and splashing. She could see Gwyn dancing in her perch across from Emerie and even Nesta was nodding along to the beat.

Nothing particularly exciting happened for the first few hours, and Emerie was just beginning to wonder if the easy paycheck was really worth how terribly bored she was when a group of unfairly good looking people trooped in through the gates and headed over to the row of cabanas that had been pre-reserved for the day.

Emerie watched them with interest as they set out the coolers of drinks and snacks they’d brought with them. The cabanas and the amenities rooms were the only areas where food and drinks, other than water, were allowed, and the curly haired girl in the frilly pink bathing suit was directing the men with her on where to lay everything out while the women rolled out towels and blankets and rearranged chairs to their satisfaction. There were seven of them in total, but only four appeared to be coupled off. The curly haired woman with the man with ridiculously luscious looking red hair, and a woman who looked a lot like Nesta with one of the dark haired men who wore a smirk like it was painted on his face.

Actually, now that she was looking…

Emerie: Nes, are those your sisters?

Nesta: *eye rolling emoji* yes. Ignore them

Gwyn: Why would we ignore them? You should introduce us. I can’t believe we’ve never met them before!

Nesta: No

“Nes!”

Emerie looked up from her phone as the largest man in the group with his long hair pulled up into a bun approached Nesta with a wide grin under his glasses. She felt a brow lift as she took in his well formed physique, tattoos covering his shoulders. He stopped below Nesta’s chair, his head almost eye level with her boobs. Emerie couldn’t hear what he said to her, but she could see the way her friend pointedly ignored the man.

Emerie: Um… who’s the hottie?

She watched as Nesta snatched up her phone from where it had been sitting on the chair’s arm- right under his nose. She knew he’d seen the text when his grin widened and he turned to glance around the pool, nodding his head at Emerie and Gwyn when he caught sight of them, phone in hand.

Gwyn: *crying laughing emoji*

Emerie snickered to herself as she watched one of the last of the dark haired men from the cabana group make his way over to his friend, shaking his head in an exasperated sort of way. His steps paused as he scanned the pool deck and spotted Gwyn.

Emerie: Oop! Looks like you caught one too, Gwyn. *evil grinning emoji*

Gwyn: *blushing emoji*

Nesta: stop it. Both of you.

Emerie: You never answered the question Nes. Who’s the hottie?

The man in question was still attempting to flirt with Nesta, who had not even glanced in his direction, until his friend slapped a tattooed hand on his shoulder and steered him away.

Nesta: no one

Gwyn: HA!

Emerie: Oh, please. Don’t lie to us, Nes. It’s insulting.

*offended gif*

Gwyn: *pounting GIF*

Nesta: *eye roll emoji*

Smirking, Emerie looked over at her friend, her attention snagging briefly on a flash of bright red before doing a double take as another person joined the party in the cabanas. Emerie froze as her attention zeroed in entirely on the most gorgeous woman she’d ever seen. Strutting in red cork wedges with a matching bikini, under a sheer black sarong, a giant straw hat shaded her face but it was easy enough to make out her red, heart shaped sunglasses and equally red lips. Long blonde hair streamed behind her in perfect waves, and gold jewelry glinted at her throat and wrists. The woman looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine… or Emerie’s fantasies.

Her phone vibrated in her hand, jarring her back to the conversation with her friends.

Nesta: close your mouth, Em. Your jaw is practically on the floor

Gwyn: *drooling emoji*

*GIF of cartoon character jaw drop*

Emerie’s cheeks heated as she glanced once more at the woman who was greeting the women who had to be Nesta’s sisters with a wide smile.

Emerie: shut up

Gwyn: *laughing emoji*

Nesta: *smirking emoji* That’s Mor

I can introduce you…

Gwyn: What?! You’ll introduce a potential love interest for Emerie, but won’t introduce your sisters?? Injustice!

Emerie: I agree with the ginger

Gwyn shot her a playful scowl from across the pool, which Emerie returned with a wink before remembering she was wearing sunglasses and just grinned.

A loud whoop was followed by a massive splash that sent water shooting up high enough to drench Nesta, who sputtered indignantly, and caused waves to spread across the pool. Gwyn’s shrill whistle cut through the air as she stood and pointed at the grinning idiot that had been flirting with Nesta earlier, and had just resurfaced.

“No splashing!” she scolded. He ignored her, grinning up at a seething Nesta who now resembled a drowned rat. His friend shot Gwyn an apologetic look.

Emerie cursed under her breath and contemplated how to keep Nesta from doing something that might get her arrested but her sisters were already rushing over to diffuse the situation. Sitting back in her seat, she couldn’t stop her eyes from straying back over towards the cabanas, only to find the gorgeous blond staring right at her.

Heat flooded Emerie as she flushed under the attention. She reached up to play with the end of her braid, a nervous habit, as she held the woman’s gaze. It helped that they were both wearing glasses and were too far away to properly read each other’s expressions, which hopefully meant she couldn’t see just how red Emerie’s face was.

The woman- Mor, reached a hand up to tip her sunglasses down, peering over them at Emerie in a way that made it obvious she was looking at her. Emerie flushed further as her red lips tipped up in a smirk. She then turned in an elegant move, untying the sarong around her waist so Emerie got a good look at her sculpted body as it fell away. Perching on the edge of a lounger, she slipped off her heels, reaching into the white and gold tote she’d brought in with her and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. Turning to stretch out in the chair, Emerie watched, mesmerized as she began massaging the lotion into her long, tanned legs…

Once again, her phone pulled her back to the present. The grinning idiot was now riding a ridiculous unicorn floaty next to his friend who sat at the edge of the pool eyeing Gwyn, while Nesta glared at them both. Gwyn, for her part, was staring Emerie down, her red eyebrows dancing over the edge of her glasses when she finally caught her attention, a bright grin on her face as she looked back and forth between Emerie and Mor who was smirking at her once again.

Cursing to herself again, Emerie glanced down at the group chat that was full of suggestive GIFs and teasing innuendos from her friends at her expense. Nesta had again offered to introduce her and Emerie stared at her phone for a moment, biting her lip as she considered. When she looked up again, however, it seemed the decision had been made for her.

Mor, apparently finished applying her sunscreen, had risen from her seat and was now sauntering across the pool deck, directly towards Emerie.

#acotarwritingcircle #Emorie #mor x emerie #emerie x mor

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ruporas · 1 year

Note

i only intended to send 1 ask and come back l8r but i have chronic brainrot and rereading your bound to want comics is just nonstop reminding me of all the things i loved about them. so u get 3 deranged rambles in a row!

THIS ONE WILL BE SHORTER I THINK

(spoilers, it isn't)

but i actually realized this Just Now, rereading the comics side by side/one after the other as i pick them apart

but in vash's dream, their relationship is so one-sided.

wolfwood verbally hesitates to indulge, saying it feels "wrong" to dance together. his hold on vash is a bit loose, and he doesn't really make eye contact.

it's vash who leads the dance, and vash who reassures him, says it's okay, tries to say that he wants to be together... and leads into that charming dip at the same time. every move that's made, it's made by vash. wolfwood just lets himself be pulled along, and seems surprised by it the whole time

...but it's a dream. and reality is so different. SO VISCERALLY DIFFERENT.

in part 2, there's SUCH a theme of wolfwood taking the reigns on their relationship. of course half of that reason is because vash has backed off completely and is running from his problems, but even then he's actively stepping up. he's reaching out. he's proactively trying to rekindle their connection.

it's HIS idea to sit them down for drinks, HIS idea to open up with honesty, and when vash starts to cry, HE'S the one that reaches out to wipe the tears away.

even when they start dancing after the ID, it persists. wolfwood is the lead now, and he's also the one that asks for vash's hand first. he's also the one that OPENLY ADMITS that he wants vash, when vash never could (or would? the nightmare did cut him off, but that could've been symbolism for the way his own fears choke him up and never let him say such things out loud. idk pls tell me)

but now wolfwood's hold on vash is steady and strong. actively holding him close and urging him CLOSER. even taking the lead to pull him in for a kiss at the end

though as much as i talk about wolfwood taking the lead in their relationship here- which he DID- it's also so much more reciprocated. it's healthy. they're both drawn in by each other. even if there's more themes of wolfwood taking charge here, this is REALITY. THEY BOTH WANT EACH OTHER. VASH HOLDS ON TOO, EVEN IF WEAKLY THANKS TO HIS FEARS

and it's just such a brutal, silent representation of how insecure vash is about this sort of thing... among other emotions.

in his mind, wolfwood barely participated at all. their relationship ended badly, too. but in reality, it's SUCH a two-way street. they both cling to each other and they're both so desperate for each other.

like aaaaagh i almost wish the dream was a little longer so i could analyze the differences more lmaooo. the pacing for it is already so perfect, but it's such a neat peek into how vash perceives their relationship in his subconscious, where there's no holds barred

idk i just feel like you're so amazingly insightful about how vashwood works emotionally. you understand them so deeply, from their tendencies to their insecurities and more.

and i might've been wrong about some stuff in this ask, but i'm ok with that. it's an opportunity for u to correct me on your interpretations and talk more about vashwood >:)

you're not wrong at all!! i was also going to not elaborate too much bc i could speak forever about their individual perspectives and view on the overall relationship, but here we go,

it can definitely be viewed as one-sided with the insecurities heavily weighed on wolfwood's side in the dream and vash leading him into reassurance, that it's okay to just be, and it's okay to share in that moment of intimacy, before it's quickly washed up by his own impending fears of having that luxury. it's a reflection of his personal desires too, of what he can lean into to help wolfwood feel loved and bearing his heart.

but yes, ultimately, reality is different!! vash can't bring himself to do ANY of that and he withholds, for 2 weeks and probably longer if wolfwood didn't intervene. wolfwood, to me, is a Very generous person. he DID give vash space to sit and think about it for that time, but he realized soon enough that this wasn't something that was going away and that it was actively weighing on vash. when wolfwood realizes vash needs a push, he goes for it immediately, leading to his directness, to opening a bit of his own vulnerability, and then realizing mid-convo what it was all about, making him more decisive in his actions.

vash has repressed for sooooo goddamn long, he can do it for another million years if he had that time, so if he needed to, he would repress all the way up until their separation. wolfwood is very Human and even if time had ran differently for him growing up, he still runs on human time, which i feel aids in him being more strong in his pursuit initially ( that is to say, imo, as their relationship progresses and gets deeper, it kind of flips, with vash being more earnest and open, similarly to how he might be in the dream, and wolfwood returning that earnestly in full, but he's also plagued everyday by his mission and guilt and the potential doom of no man's land-- but anyway, that's a detour note-- )

ehe well!!! bound to want is only one of my long vashwood comics!!! bounds of more opportunities in the future to dig into vash's self isolation, being as lonely as he has been for soooo long, and his point of view on yearning for wolfwood and whatnot. i can dig into it for so long, hopefully i'll have more time to work on my other longer comics over the summer that may dive into this area!!

i always found vash's pov to be really interesting, because in the manga, we see a lot of wolfwood's progression and his love for vash bloom through his inner thoughts, but we don't get to see vash's thoughts of wolfwood, not until . ahem. so, i have fun analyzing the way vash rescinds in general when it comes to relationships while juxtaposing his intense desire and want for this one person that manages to make him want in the first place. and in bound to want particularly, i wanted this to take place after the ship/home arc and before the remembrance of july arc. canonically, it's too early for them to develop these kind of relationships, but i've taken the reigns and shuffle events in there to further their love, as one who takes canon to fanon does.

i've always viewed vash as the first to fall in love in trimax and it's a steady accumulation, from their first meeting 2 years ago when he was read at point blank by a weird priest, to being the first face of the old world he abandoned that he sees, to wolfwood lingering around, following… filling up the space so he isn't alone anymore. and despite their conflicts and disagreements just prior, vash ultimately relied on him during the home arc, needed to because he couldn't have done it alone unless he wanted to lose more people. he knew wolfwood then, he knew his methods, but in that moment, he couldn't tell him to not kill. he didn't tell him to kill either, he just left it to wolfwood, trusted him so vash, with all his grief and emotions, could handle emilio. and afterwards, wolfwood comes out injured but not broken, he's okay! and i think that really sinks into vash, the whole concept behind reliability is so foreign to him because he really tries to handle everything by himself and now there's suddenly someone else who gets what he's asking for with a mere glance, someone who he can fight back to back with, and it'd just be soooo much for him.

the thing about vashwood is that they're both lonely in a very similar manner and they hurt, shy away from the companionship of others, but they are both also kind and giving. and i'd imagine they'd both recognize this mutual feeling somewhere in the air between them, but neither approaches it because it'd just lead to hurt.

because vash has been in love for muuuuch longer though, i think him steadily figuring out the potential hesitation behind wolfwood initiating anything makes him want to start the conversation first, but thinking of starting is different from actually working up the nerves to. there is confidence in their companionship and trust in wolfwood, but wolfwood is also a guide and time and time, that's been reiterated back to vash; a reminder that their time together is temporary, that wolfwood is here for a mission and not for him, and that vash has a responsibility at the end of their journey that he can't bring a human in to fight alongside him. Combine that with his complete and utter fear of himself considering he doesn't know how his body works at this point, it's a combo of insecurities in both parties of the relationship that he /wants/, but knows he shouldn't and doesn't deserve to have.

i don't know if any of that made sense, i rambled a LOT more than i needed to GMKSMGDSGMKSD BUT YEAH. ANYWAY. there's tons to explore behind vash's psyche and wolfwood's, GOD, wolfwood's psyche is so… i shake him everyday. but with vash, even if there is greenlight signs from wolfwood, he will always doubt first. i imagine, after he got rescued by wolfwood in vol 8, only then is when he can unabashedly 110% have full faith in what he reads from wolfwood and trust in what he feels, which is devastating considering the limited free time they got to have.

BUT OK ok im done. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR MESSAGESSSSS, THESE MEAN A LOT TO ME, as i mentioned!!! i'm very thankful for all of your analysis and tidbits to my silly little comic… it really makes me genuinely so happy that someone could give so much thought on it and pick up things that were intentional or just providing observations, its so wahhhh T__T I FEEL HONORED, really, thank you so so much!!!!

#asks #THANK YOUUUUUU this is the last of ur asks.... i really appreciate it all through and through!!!!#thank you so much!!!!#and just . a small spoiler -- part two IS the happy ending point where bound to want can end #but i am writing a bonus part.... depending on how long it is-- it could be an epilogue or a part 3 #to just make sure bound to want can fully encompass the push and pull that is in vashwood and their wants alongside their pain of wanting #no such thing as pure happiness for these two after all </3 but anyway anyway #thank you again!!!!

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howaboutcastiel · 2 years

Text

The Regular Surprise (Jake Lockley)

Content Warning: Major Self-Harm Themes, Su*cidal Ideation, PLEASE proceed with caution

Summary: The OC is a waitress at a retro diner on the outskirts of the city. Life is hard and she’s struggling to cope with everything, plagued by depression and self-destructive tendencies. On the night of a big town festival, she reaches her breaking point. A familiar face at an unfamiliar time may just be her last hope. (Based on a request. Asker wishes to remain anonymous.)

Content: Angst with some resolution, substance abuse, verbal abuse (yum), extreme language. I don’t know how to describe this fic other than to say it's dark, sad, and cathartic for a select few. Fictional festival based on the one I used to go to as a kid.

Word Count: 7.0k

An Author’s Note: Please PLEASE do not read this if there’s even a chance it could be triggering to you. I have plenty of other content that you could read instead, and there’s loads of other talented writers on here that you can go and support as well. Stay safe <3

I woke up way too early.

Not that that’s out of the ordinary. I served breakfast at the diner three days a week. Today was one of them. My alarm went off at 5:00, ripping me from my sleep with absolutely no gentleness. My head was pounding, of course, but I couldn’t complain about that because it was my own choice to drink half a bottle of bourbon the night before. Honestly, all things considered, I was holding my liquor pretty well. Didn’t even feel sick.

But I did feel tired.

There’s nothing fulfilling about working at a diner at six in the morning. Sure, there are a few cheery regulars that keep you in mind, ask you about your folks and if your home loan got approved, or whatever. But they can also be so grating. When are you having kids? You’d be much better off if you found a nice man. Say, are you coming to work high? Most waitresses are on drugs, right? I can’t tip today, hope you don’t mind. We’re friends, aren’t we?

Then there’s the tourists. Grabbing breakfast on their way in or out of town, their kids screaming because they’re up too damn early and we don’t sell chocolate milk. Or the honeymooners who stuff themselves in one side of the booth, sharing their waffles with one fork. Give me a fucking break.

But when I walked into work that morning, there was one familiar face that didn’t entirely make me want to rip off my own skin. He wasn’t exactly a regular. He’d show up every morning for several days in a row, then we wouldn’t see him for weeks on end. More often than not, he wore a grey or brown flat cap and on particularly dreary mornings you could hear him whispering to himself, sometimes in Spanish. My manager had told me once to refer to him as “Mr. Lockley.” Not sure exactly why, he didn’t seem that much older than me, but she was adamant. So that’s what he was called.

Today was a double shift. I worked from 6-10, and then again from 5 until we closed at 9 o’clock. It wouldn’t have been too much of a big deal—more hours means more money, right?—save for the fact that the annual Cherry Blossom festival happened to be that night, and I really didn’t want to miss it. I’d technically have a bit of time to catch the end after my shift, but the sun would already be set and the biggest vendors and entertainers would have dipped by then. Plus, tired and drunk festivalgoers would be pestering me for some cheese fries for the whole night, and we were definitely going to run out sometime after 7 p.m.

“Morning, sugar.” Mr. Lockley put on a sleazy grin as I came to take his order. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t one of those perverts that said rude things to his waitresses, but he had a mouth on him. A severely unfiltered one. “What’s the special today?”

“You get a piece of toast for free if you order eggs.” My owner didn’t do specials. Everyone was struggling to make ends meet around here, and creative marketing was far down on the list for a desolate joint like this. Every Tuesday was free toast, though. But that’s only because the truck came in on Wednesdays and everything in stock was going stale.

“Okay, I’ll do that, then. Two scrambled and some coffee if you have it.” He gave a tired smile, though he seemed very awake considering the time. I’d never given much thought to what he might do for work. He was so cryptic anyway, there was too much to wonder about. “And uhh… do you have turkey bacon?”

“Sorry, honey. Just regular.” He didn’t have his hat on today; I noticed for the first time that he had quite curly hair. It almost didn’t match his face, which was so contorted by stress and lack of sleep that it certainly made him look older than he was. Like I said, though, he was barely older than me, maybe ten years at most. There was no grey in his hair, but there was a bit peeking out of his stubbly beard. Don’t get distracted. He was asking for turkey bacon?

“Scratch that then, sweetheart. I don’t do regular.” He unfolded his newspaper, sliding his knuckle along his lips as he read. I wrote his order down.

“Eggs and toast, then. And coffee, coming right up.”

I pretended not to notice him staring at my ass as I walked back toward the kitchen. I know I said that he wasn’t a pervert, but he was still a man. They tend to look, and I try not to dwell on it in this line of work so long as I don’t feel unsafe. I slid the ticket to Bernie, the cook. He gave me a familiar smile. He was too old to be working still, but like I said, we’re trying to make ends meet.

The mug shook in my hand a bit as I poured the coffee for Mr. Lockley. At this ungodly hour, there weren’t too many other customers, and my coworker had already taken care of most of them. There wasn’t even a manager in yet; the owner, David, wouldn’t be here for a while. The lazy shit showed up whenever he wanted to. I brought the man his coffee.

“Thanks, sugar.” His smile was kind of offputting, not in a creepy way. He just seemed kinda unhinged. He took a sip, hissing at the heat. “¡Carajo!”

He swallowed hard, obviously having burnt his tongue. Mr. Lockley seemed embarrassed that I had seen that. He tried to distract me.

“You going to the festival tonight?” Why was I even still standing here?

“Uhh, yeah. I’d planned on it.” Now I know, you’re not supposed to tell the customers what you’re doing when you get off work. What if they’re some kind of stalker, right? But honestly, if Mr. Lockley had wanted to kidnap me or something, he’d had multiple months to decide that already. So forgive me for my vulnerable honesty. “How about you?”

“I’ll be around. But I got work tonight, so no dice.”

I don’t really remember that much of my morning shift. I had enough coffee and ibuprofen to keep the hangover at bay, but it was still the crack of dawn. Even by 10, I would have rather been in bed. But that was also largely unrelated to my shift. I spent a lot of time wishing I was still in bed.

I spent a lot of time wishing I wasn’t anywhere at all.

Of course, I was having a rough time, you know? I was a fucking waitress in my twenties, with no solid plan to get ahead and I was borderline an alcoholic. Life was just so damn exhausting. My family was no help, not that I would dare ask them for help. It takes a village to raise a child, but at the end of the day, no one in the village wants to take responsibility for the fucked up way that the kid turned out. They want to take credit when money’s tight though, and they can ask the kid to spare some of her paychecks because “hey, I fucking raised you, didn’t I?”

Yeah, no. I was going at this alone. And it was eating me alive.

On this day, I was teetering on the edge. I’d struggled with self-destructive action for most of my life. There was no one around to teach me a healthier way to deal with shit. I didn’t have the money for a habit like cigarettes or drugs; plus, I’d seen enough of the horrors of addiction through my folks. The alcoholism was an accidental thing. It had started in high school, and who was I to turn down the sleazy attention of older boys who liked to party? It was attention, and I needed that.

I didn’t see Mr. Lockley leave. I was too busy with the morning rush of all those nine-to-five people. He’d left his newspaper on the table alongside his empty plate, but at least he’d been nice enough to fold it back so that I didn’t have to. By this time, David had gotten around to coming in. What a fucking asshole, that guy. I hated the thought of making a profit for him, but I was doing all I could. Looking ahead for better days.

Except I wasn’t looking ahead.

When I say that that day was bad, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I was about three minor inconveniences from putting a pistol in my mouth or taking a handful of Bernie’s blood pressure pills. Everything was so overwhelming as my own ambitions were underwhelming. Seriously, it was a fucking dreadful day, and I was just unhinged enough that it could have easily been my last. It very nearly was, too.

I was less than a half-hour from my shifts end when last night’s bourbon caught back up to me. I was carrying plates for a table of four, two snot-nosed kids and their wealthy grandparents on some god-forsaken vacation. Someone had spilled their drink in the floor with out telling any of the staff, and I couldn’t see it for the food in my hands. Luckily I didn’t drop the whole thing, but the grandpa’s meal was a goner as soon as my foot hit the water.

He seemed a little more upset than was necessary; entitled boomer thinks its cute to yell at the wait staff. I just kind of stood there and took it, numb to being berated by customers at this point. It wasn’t that that made the first strike, though it did start there. No, it was fucking David’s reaction to the whole experience.

“You fucking watch where you’re walking.” He was spitting at me in the back room. “Gonna keep losing money by working your clumsy ass here. Don’t think I’m gonna forget how often you show up off your game.”

That wasn’t fair and he knew it. I never showed up to work drunk, even if I desperately wanted to. He couldn’t hold against me what I did on my own time off. I did have some respect for my job, though admittedly not much. I knew I couldn’t afford to be fired right now.

“I don’t want to see those goddamn tears.” Of course I’m gonna cry. You’re tearing me a new one. “Wipe that shit off your face. I swear to God, you fuck up again tonight and you’re out of a job. You hear me?”

I knew he wasn’t gonna fire me, but I nodded. He needed the help, and with his attitude it was unlikely he could hire a new waitress to replace me in a timely manner. He let me off my shift after that—I don’t think he could stand to see my face anymore. So I sauntered off to my car, not even saying bye to Bernie, and certainly not stopping to ask if that table needed anything else.

See, this is where I knew it was bad. I would have seven hours before returning for my shift. I should have done something really therapeutic, like treat myself at a coffee shop or gone window shopping at an antique store. But I couldn’t be bothered to do that. I shut myself into my car, not bothering to turn on the radio or even the AC. For a little while I didn’t turn on the engine, I just let myself continue to cry until no tears were left. I was really so goddamn tired.

I know that I shouldn’t have done what I did next, but like I said, I was never taught better. That excuse only goes so far, doesn’t it? Either way, I did what I did and I gotta own up to that. When I couldn’t use alcohol to numb myself—say, because I had another shift to stay sober for—I would simply amplify the pain. It wasn’t logical, really, but it made me feel like I was in control. If the world was gonna hurt me, at the very least, I could do it better.

So that’s what I did.

Like I said, I don’t smoke. The smell alone is so offputting to me and I can’t support the habit in this economy. But I did have a lighter in my car. You know, the one that comes in the little charging port thing? I don’t know exactly where I got it, maybe it came with car when I bought the damn thing. Regardless, it was perfect for this. I knew that. It wasn’t the first time that I’d done it.

I had a little line of scars right above my waist. A nasty habit, I know, but it’s better than shooting heroin I guess. It was the same concept as drugs; it fucked with my hormones in just the right way, gave me an adrenaline rush. So I pressed the little lighter into the skin right across from my belly button. It hurt like shit. Of course it did.

And then I did it again. I don’t know exactly how many times, but I remember that it made me feel better. No, it decidedly made me feel worse, but at least I was feeling something. Also, my headache was magically gone. Either that or my brain just wouldn’t allow me to process both at the same time.

I sat there for a while. Then I got a fucking call from David.

“I need you to switch shifts with Miranda.” He didn’t ask. He just told.

“Why?”

“Just do what I say. She’s got a family emergency or something. I need you to come in at three. You’re off at seven.”

Maybe the day wasn’t so shit after all. I could make it to the festival for sure, now. I was hell-bent on a candy apple at least, as well as one of those plates of fried Oreos. I didn’t care that they would probably make me feel like shit.

Well, then. That brought seven hours of free time down to five. What to do? Go back to my apartment I guess. So I did. I didn’t do much else, just used my time to make myself lunch, pay some bills and do some dishes that my roommate had left in the sink. The time went by pretty fast from there. Except for when my mother called. It went painfully slowly for that.

I could already tell when I got back to the diner that the shift wasn’t going to end well. Strike one had hit me like a fucking train. I would say that the second was already halfway struck, just from the rain that followed me up to the door. It was gonna clear out by sunset, though. The festival was going to be dry. And warm.

David looked as annoyed as ever to be blessed with my presence, but he didn’t say anything to me as I clocked in. Three is one of those weird hours where hardly anyone is there. If anyone, a few teenagers would stop by on their way home from school. Or camp. Or wherever.

The monotony wasn’t good for me. Even if the seating area was empty, David forbade me from being on my phone. Just one of those things, don’t look like a piece of shit while you’re on the job. Doesn’t matter who sees.

Strike two happened suddenly. Around 6, some dirty executive thought he was being funny and pinched my ass. I don’t put up with that shit. I politely told him to leave. Well, as polite as could be reasonable.

“Awe, I’m just poking fun, sweet thing. Say, what time you get out of here?” His teeth were yellow and gross. He was with some buddies from work who thought he was the funniest person in the room. I wasn’t impressed.

“I don’t disclose that information.” He frowned. His eyes were bloodshot, but not in a drunk way. A different kind of way. It was scary. “Now I need you to leave. We don’t tolerate physical harassment here.”

“Harassment? Now you’re being shy on me? I can’t help you look so good, sweetheart.”

God help me for what I’m about to do.

“Dave!” I yelled just loud enough to startle the man closest to me. His friends shut up real fast as David walked into the room, pissed as all hell that I’d bothered him. The pig wasn’t amused.

“There’s no need for that, sugar.” He grimaced at David and patronizingly scoffed at me.

“What’s the problem here, sir?” David put on his customer service voice with absolutely no intent of keeping it on. As shitty as he was, he didn’t fuck around with creeps. I tried to steady my breath.

“This man grabbed me under my skirt. And he refuses to leave.” I didn’t have to look Dave in the eye for this. Thank God for that, at the very least. The ugly man’s friends looked like deer in headlights, but he just looked smug.

“Yeah, no. Get the fuck out.” That’s what I thought.

“You’re gonna talk to a customer like that?” The man was shocked that another guy would dare call him out like that. What an absolute fucking pig.

“You’re not a customer anymore. Get out. All of you, as a matter of fact.” Save for Bernie and himself, everyone who worked under David was a young woman. He’d gotten used to sending perverts on their way, and he’d walk me to my car if he absolutely had to, but he wouldn’t be happy about it.

He wasn’t happy about losing the business, either. Even if the people leaving were the scum of the earth. He side-eyed me for the remainder of my shift, as if I’d somehow tried on purpose to seduce the man.

And then we make it to strike three.

It’s a goddamn lucky thing that I don’t own a gun. Or sleeping pills. Or anything else I could overdose on. But do not get me fucking wrong, I was determined by the end of the night, as tragic as that sounds.

My shift ended and there was no sign of the men, so David didn’t bother to stick around. He wanted to see the festival, too, and he never stayed until closing anyway. It was dusk when I got outside. There was enough light to see, but not enough to feel safe.

And my fucking car wouldn’t start.

I started sobbing on the spot. Visceral, ugly, snotty crying that made it hard to breathe in. It was the second time today that I had cried in my car. It was my absolute breaking point. I was a mess. An illogical mess.

I punched the steering wheel until I was sure I had bruised my hand. After that, I held my head in my hands until the tears were all gone. Not because I felt better, but because there wasn’t anything left. The headache was back now, by the way. There was no way in hell that I was walking from here. I wasn’t going to the festival either.

I wasn’t going anywhere.

I was so done. Really, truly done. Realistically, I don’t think I would have done anything to hurt myself—in the permanent way, I mean. But the thought was at the forefront of my mind. Images flashed through my head. How would I do it? Would it be quick? I wasn’t thinking logically. I was struggling to think at all.

Okay, here’s what I need to do. It’s too fucking far and cold for me to walk back home. I’m gonna call a cab.

Cab’s didn’t stop too often near the diner. I wasn’t in the city-center, but I was close enough that they would find their way there every half hour or so. At least, that was what I thought. In reality, there happened to be a cab right then and there. It was parked on the other side of the block.

I waved it down, noticing a silhouette in the front seat. Maybe he was on his break? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I had wiped the tears and other stuff from my face, but the aggression of the sobs had left me a complete wreck. My head was pounding, my tongue was stiff and dry. My stomach still burned.

The cabby pulled over to me.

I checked the window just to make sure that it wasn’t some kidnapping scheme. That’s not unheard of, and with my luck that’d be the cab that found me. Sure enough, though, the cab was registered legitimately. I sighed in relief as I opened the door.

“Where to?” He met my eyes in the mirror, but I didn’t look back at him. That is, until he turned his head to me. “You having car trouble or something?”

I knew the face staring back at me. This was not in my plan for the night. I didn’t know how to feel.

“Yeah, I am.” He looked just as confused as me. He was wearing his hat now. I noted that. “I didn’t know you were a cabby, Mr. Lockley.”

“Call me Jake.” He was still turned to look at me. I felt myself blushing at the way he was peering into me. “Now, come on. Where to?”

“My apartment. I guess.” I gave the address. This was unexpected, but it didn’t change anything. It was a weird feeling, though. Vulnerable. I felt ashamed to be involving him in my shitty, self-destructive night. At the time, what I was half-convinced was my last one.

“I thought you were going to the festival, señorita.” He looked prettier in the fading light. I couldn’t see the circles under his eyes.

“Change of plans.” He furrowed his brow, but turned back toward the front. He didn’t start the meter.

“This one’s on me, yeah?” It almost sounded like pity. That’s great, I really wanted that.

“No, Jake. I can’t accept that. I’ll pay.” There’s that line in that Alanis Morissette song, right? A free ride when you’re already late. That’s kind of what this was like. Was the universe trying to stop me, or trying to mock me?

“¡tonterías! If you can’t afford a tow truck, I doubt you can afford a cab ride.” Okay. Mocking me, for sure.

“Don’t rub it in.”

“This one’s on me.” He repeated, slower. Then he put the car into drive. Fine, work for free. That doesn’t change my night. It doesn’t matter anyway.

If I had more sense in my head, I would have seen that he noticed how dreadful I was. My mascara had run, not completely wiped away to the best of my ability. My shirt was untucked, my hair was a mess, and the crescent moons on my palms were leaking blood. Not that I’d noticed that. I had spiraling tunnel vision.

What was I going to do when I got home? The thoughts were jumbled and racing through my mind, but I was too exhausted to catch all of them. I was crawling in my skin, half-convinced that I was possessed or something, but I also felt numb. The kind of calm you feel when you have nothing to lose.

I didn’t own a gun. There weren’t any pills. There wasn’t any rope. But there were… kitchen knives? None of the thoughts stuck around too long, they just played themselves on a loop, attacking my brain.

“You seemed excited about that festival. What’s keeping you?” His voice rang in my ears. My head was hurting so bad.

“I’m just tired.” I lied. I couldn’t tell that he saw right through that. He was too observant for his own good. I pulled my flask from the bottom of my purse.

Yeah, I know. This was certainly a wrong move. Jake Lockley was upset by this, for sure.

“Hey, no open bottles in my cab.” I hadn’t even gotten the damn thing to my lips. I thought I’d try to be cute with him.

“It’s not a bottle. It’s a flask.” I downed a swig before shutting the lid.

“Put it away.” Whatever, man. I pushed it back down in my purse, not hiding the way I rolled my eyes at him before doing it. The calm was warping into something else, but I didn’t know what. The possessed feeling wasn’t going away, though.

“You worked a long shift today, huh? Considering I saw you here at the crack of dawn.” Why was he trying to make small talk? Just leave me alone. You and the rest of the world, leave me alone.

“Wasn’t here the whole day. Opening shift and closing one, supposed to be anyway.” I just mumbled the first words in my brain. He was asking a lot of me in this state.

“The diner closes at nine.”

“Like I said, supposed to be.” Why did he know that the diner closes at nine? That’s a weird thing to remember, especially for someone who only shows up for breakfast. Maybe it’s a cab driver thing. They know the open and close of places around.

“It’s a little early for you to turn in, then. Why don’t I drive you on to the festival and let you have some fun?” You’re overstepping, Mr. Lockley.

“I said to take me home.”

“So you can do what exactly? Drink alone?” I was starting to feel uneasy. I’d never made small talk with this man beyond when he ordered his food. Now he was flirting with me? Or calling me out? I didn’t exactly know. Weirdly enough, I felt safe, but I also felt exposed.

“That’s none of your business.” We were almost at my apartment. He slowed to a stop, not yet close enough for me to get out of the car. He looked angry. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not sure I should let you leave.” He didn’t say it in a creepy way. I know that’s hard to believe. How could he say that and it not be creepy, right? But I immediately knew what he meant.

“You gonna kidnap me then?” I didn’t have the energy for this. And it wasn’t any of his business anyway.

“That depends. Will that keep you alive?”

“Okay. I think you’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” He couldn’t possibly know what was in my head. I hadn’t even made the decision yet myself. This man was way outside of bounds here, but I couldn’t prove him wrong. We stared at each other for a long time.

“Let me take you to the festival.” Why did he care so much about this? About me?

“Why does it matter to you?” Just leave me alone. Just leave me alone. Just leave me alone. I don’t want to be here.

“I have a conscience, you know.” He talked to me like a dad might. That really made me feel bad. “I can’t drop you off here if I think you’re in danger. I can’t live with that.”

“Why do you care? I’m a stranger to you.”

“Just come to the festival with me.” Jake’s eyes were pleading. That instantly made him look younger. A lot younger. Child-like.

God damn him.

“Fine. Don’t do anything weird, though. I have pepper spray.” That was a lie. I did not.

Cherry blossoms lined the street where the vendors were parked. I could smell the carnival food before we even got to the point of the roadblock. Jake Lockley parked the car, coming around to open my door for me.

“Wait, aren’t you on duty or something?” He took my hand to help me up. What a gentleman. I think I should feel thankful for that. If only I could be bothered to feel.

“I drive a cab. I can work when I want.” He put his arm around my waist for support and I tried to conceal how his hand set me on fire as it touched my burns. I couldn’t be bothered to hate the gesture, though. It was the sweetest touch I had felt in a long time. I’m pretty sure he was only holding on to keep me from making a run for it. Jake was convinced I was a danger to myself.

The street lights illuminated his face in a new way. He looked a lot more vulnerable in the dim crowd, but he held himself with confidence. I got the feeling that I was safe with him. I noticed now that he was wearing gloves. That made sense for a cab driver, right? They had crescent moons on them, little white shapes right on the knuckles, disturbing the black of the leather. What an odd little thing.

“Is there something, in particular, that you want to see?” He led me down the street with his hand barely grazing my side, but I was firmly in his grasp. The lights were too bright. The crowd was too noisy. I couldn’t concentrate.

“I always get a caramel apple.” I tried to search my brain for what I’d normally be doing here. I was elated before, right? There had to be some ideas floating around in there somewhere. It was hard to find any, though.

“Okay. Let’s get one, then.” For all it was worth, I could have been drunk. I’d had the one swig of booze, but my state of mind was far gone regardless of that. That was probably a good thing. I couldn’t make any rash decisions if I couldn’t think at all. I turned my head to him as we made our way through the swarm of people.

Why was he so concerned? Sure, he knew me from the diner, but I meant nothing to him. Just some waitress in the background of his life. He could have just dumped me at my place and let whatever was going to happen go ahead. But he didn’t, and I couldn’t understand why.

“Two caramel apples, thanks.” I heard him say to one of the vendors, but I was so out of it. I reached for my wallet, but he swatted my hand away. That’s on him, too, I guess. I kept my eyes on his face.

He was a fairly short man. Not that there was a problem with that, I had just expected him to be tall. Mr. Lockley had the energy of someone with a bigger physical presence. He was some kind of tan, maybe Mexican? He spoke Spanish, I knew that. He must be some kind of Latino, then, I guessed. I didn’t really dwell on that thought, but he was pretty, whatever he was.

Yeah. He was pretty. His face was pretty, his curls were pretty, his muscles were pretty, and these thoughts were those of a deeply tired, not-thinking-straight woman. I felt warm at the idea that he was my arm candy tonight. Even if he was holding me against my will so that I didn’t try to off myself.

I don’t think he liked that I was staring. He handed me my apple and ushered me over to the tent-covered benches that were set up for people who wanted to eat sitting down. There was music coming from the stage nearby. Not good music, but it was live music, which was something. He paid it no mind.

“How are you feeling?” Jake had that same child-like look from before. Was he that worried about me? I let my mouth continue to act before my brain, as it had gotten me this far.

“I don’t know. The music sucks, though.” I took a very large bite of my apple. I kept talking, even with the food in my mouth. “You’re kinda rude, y’know. What kinda cab driver gets to pick the rider’s destination? That seems… abnormal.”

“The kind that’s not taking your shit. Look me in the eye and say you weren’t going to hurt yourself.” What a nosy motherfucker.

“Maybe I was. What does that have to do with you?” He kind of blushed when I said that, which made me feel powerful. I made Mr. Lockley blush.

“You think I could live with myself if I dropped you off knowing I could have stopped you from that?”

“I don’t know. You’d have gotten over it. I’m just a waitress.”

“No you’re not.” He blushed even deeper, taking a bite of his own caramel apple. I was stuffing my face, the sugar making me feel better as it took away some of the cloudiness.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… you’ve served me breakfast a hundred times.” Even he didn’t seem convinced by that answer. I scowled at him.

“Yeah. That still makes me just a waitress.” It was amusing to see him stumble on his words. As the sugar reached my head, it brought energy elsewhere, too. Particularly to my aching stomach.

“Can you just not act disposable for one second? You’ve got to mean something to someone.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Yeah. I really don’t think that’s true.” He took a patronizing bite. How that was possible, I’m not sure. “I’d surely miss your pretty face over my coffee.”

“Someone else can serve you coffee.” I was kind of getting pissed because he cared. Why did he get to care when I didn’t?

“I don’t think I want that, though.” This was pointless. I just wanted to go home, still. Though I was beginning to want something else, too. I tried to distract him.

“What else is there to do here?” I hadn’t thought that one out. The festival had lots of vendors, but it seemed a lot less vibrant than I’d imagined it would be.

“Dunno. You want me to win you a stuffed animal?” Now there’s a thought.

“I’d certainly like to see you try.”

I learned a lot of swear words in Spanish over the next half-hour. More than would ever be useful, that’s for sure. But the man did it. It cost him three times what the stuffed monkey should have cost, but he did it. I found myself giggling at the way he so clearly felt he was above the rigged dart-throwing game. He was giggling, too, in between the swears. I don’t think he’d played a carnival game in a long time.

He did that thing where you talk to the stuffed animal like it’s a person. I don’t know if he thought it would be funny or if he was pissed about spending so much money on the game. Whatever the reason for it, I was entertained.

“You are more trouble than you’re worth, pequeño.” He stuck his pointer finger into the belly of the toy, a playfully stern look on his face. “You’re not even that cute.”

“He’s the one I wanted, though.” I took the monkey out of Jake’s gloved hand. Really, what was up with the gloves? The plush toy felt cheap in my grasp, but he was meaningful. “What should I name him?”

“el cabrón,” Jake muttered under his breath, grinning. I didn’t know that word, but from the cheeky tone in his voice I had to go with no on that one.

You know how they say that adrenaline drains everything from your body? I didn’t know it, but that was what was happening here. I’d gone through so many emotions through the day, and so many cups of coffee, too. The devastating tiredness had plagued me from the cab ride to the apple truck, and now there was exhausted giddyness. When I say that I could have been drunk, that’s truly the most accurate description. They say sleep deprivation mimics inebriation. By that metric, I was nearly at the black-out stage.

I was holding on to him like a little girl as we walked back to the cab. There was an unspoken agreement, I guess, as he saw how fucking tired I must be. He had to be pretty tired, too. The sky was totally dark at this point, and both of us had been awake since before the sun had come up this morning.

“Why don’t you sit in the front, cariño?” He asked me gently. I followed his request, hopping in the front seat as he opened the door for me. Jake was still treating me like something fragile. I didn’t really have the frame of mind to realize that I was. There were just isolated thoughts swimming around.

We took the entire ride in silence. I guess there wasn’t much that either of us really had to say. I ran my hand along the thread of the monkey toy; I had decided to name him Button because of his eyes. I don’t know. Drunk thoughts. The thread felt soothing under my skin.

He turned off the engine when he got to my drive. I raised by eyebrow at him, but he had one of those looks like it wasn’t really up for debate. My tongue felt like it was stuck in my throat.

Jake didn’t take my hand or open the door for me this time. He just let me lead the way up the steps with the keys in my hand. I know I should have felt more uncomfortable about the whole thing than I actually did. My roommate wasn’t there; I don’t know where she was gone to. We only lived together for the money. We didn’t make conversation that much.

“Do you want something to drink?” I mumbled at him as he followed me through the door. At least I had done the dishes, so the place wasn’t a total wreck. My roommate’s cat meowed angrily at me as we made out way into the living room. She probably hadn’t fed him all day. Jake’s eyes lit up at the sight.

“Who’s this little princesa?” He bent down to scratch the cat’s head, swooping him up into his arms. The little bastard drank in the attention.

“Artichoke. He belongs to my roomy.” I plopped onto the couch. I would feed him before bed. Not right now, I was too tired.

“My bad, man. Eres el gato más bonito que he visto.” Jake’s lips parted over his teeth, his eyes crinkled in a wide smile. Arty was purring under his touch. I’d never seen such a soft smile on Mr. Lockley’s face.

I was starting to really like this man. Sure, I’d seen him lots of times before, but it was so impersonal and he was normally much cruder in the way he spoke. I guess I’d given him a good scare. My mind was out of spiralling thoughts, but the chaos lingered in spite of the absence of self-destructing tendencies. He sat down beside me, and Arty leapt off the couch.

I thought of one thing that might make me feel better. Might make me feel something.

I fucking tackled that poor man. I smashed my lips into his, pushing my weight over top of him. My hands found their way to his hair. He was shocked for a second, then he reciprocated for another before pulling back altogether. His grip was surprisingly strong, and suddenly I was separated from him.

“Don’t do that.” He didn’t look angry at me, but he did dawn a look of disappointment. I fucking hated that look. Jake’s arm held me away from him.

“Why not? I know how much you stare at me when you come by to eat.” It was true. He never hid how he ogled at me. Like I said, severely unfiltered. That didn’t mean he was a bad man.

“You’re not in your right mind. I didn’t come here for that.” I winced as he stood up off of the couch, tugging off his gloves. His face and neck were bright red. He threw the gloves on the kitchen counter, right beside my bottle of whiskey.

“Consider it payment for the ride.” I reached my hand out to him, signalling him to come back. He just stared down at me. “It’s not like I’m drunk.”

“But you’re not thinking straight.” He ventured into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. He poured me one, too, and I noticed his fingers tense against the cold of the glass. Jake walked over to me and handed the cup down to my hands, which I was noticing by now were very weak with exhaustion. I took a sip, carefully.

“What are you here for then?” I don’t know exactly what I wanted him to say. He was there, though, and that mattered a lot. He really didn’t have to be there.

“I don’t know. I want to make sure you’re safe.” I couldn’t fault him for that. He’d given me a free ride, bought me dinner, won me a prize, and then he’d endured my unwanted advances. It would have been quite rude of me after that to repay him by hurting myself.

“How long are you gonna stay?”

“Until I’m sure.”

And that’s what he did.

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