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lexischococoveredblueberries · 5 months

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⋆.ೃwe’ll live forever࿔*:･

veneer x GN!reader

one shot

fluff

you are helping veneer get ready for his next show. you both have had crushes on each other since you were kids, and all you two wanted to do was confess your undying love for each other, and the only thing stopping you was velvets disapproval and judgment.

but, that doesn’t stop the tension between you two when you’re alone…

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

“y/n, get in here.”

you hear Velvet speaking from the radio that was

attached to your chest, which helped the twins

communicate with you easily whenever they needed

you. currently, you were in your own “ office “ (not

really privileged to you, but it’s where you got your

work done ) getting contracts ready for Velvet and

Veneer to sign. you weren’t very sure either of them

were even going to sign, but you were just doing your

job. you fumbled your hands to hold the speak

button of the radio and stood up rapidly from your

chair.

“yes, Violet. on my way,”

you gathered your papers and tapped them upright

on the table a few times to make them even, then

you dashed out the door and to their dressing room.

you didn’t like to admit it, but every time that Violet

called you to their room, you couldn’t help but feel

excited to see her brother, Veneer. whenever she was

being uptight or just plain rude, Veneers little jokes or

just the sound of his voice made the room feel a lot

less tiny. you’re anxious quite a bit , and perhaps he

picked up on it, because even just a softened gaze

from him helps you ease up.

you were a little like him, in a way. both of you thrive

to find approval from those higher than you, and in

your case it was both of them and HR.

it didn’t really take much for Veneer to like you,

though.

you arrived to their door, and knocked gently but

hard enough to have them hear you. oftentimes you

were scared of knocking too loud, since Violet

doesn’t like to be interrupted by obnoxiously loud

sounds…that’s really the only thing you can relate to

her with.

the door opened, and you saw Veneer standing there

with a warming smile on his face, and his hair looking

a little…eccentric. gel clearly wasn’t put in the right

way, strands falling out, and it was tilted to the side?

the sight made you blush, and you couldn’t help but

smile back, gripping the papers a little more tightly in

your hands.

“hello, Ven-“

“Y/N!”

you and Veneer jolted from velvets snappy tone, and

the door was whipped all the way open, tearing it

away from Veneers grip.

you are greeted with a

moderately-infuriated Velvet who looked upset but

also stressed. she then grabbed Veneers wrist and

pulled him towards a dresser chair, forcing him down

and pointing at him, one hand on her hip.

“okay, i CANNOT get his hair to cooperate. or

ANYTHING!”

she exclaimed, throwing her hands in

the air as if she was trying to strangle her own brain.

she pointed to the closet and stomped her foot

down.

“i had to put crimp in there because even SHE couldn’t do it ! i- just-“

she was obviously stressed out, and you showed her

a small smile.

“i understand. here,” you handed her the papers. “if

you can just throw a few signatures on here, i’ll fix

him up for you. i used to do a bit of hair dressing in

university, i’m sure i’ll be able to do something.”

her gaze softened for a moment, like she was

relaxed, but it was instantly back to a stubborn look,

and she snatched the papers from you.

“fine.” she sneered, and grabbed a pen from the

vanity. “i’ll be back, i have to go see a couple of

snobby interviewers before the show.” she notified,

approaching and opening the door. her back towards

you, she stopped.

“..thank you.”

she slammed the door, you and Veneer jolting again.

it was silence for a moment, until you cleared your

throat. “okay, let me figure this out.” you start

grabbing scissors, gel, hairspray, a comb, and bobby

pins to prepare yourself. Veneer watches you as you

speak to yourself and collect your train of thought.

he stares a little longer than he should.

you then turn him around in the chair and step

closer, your chest almost pressed against the back of

him. you clench your jaw and are instantly flooded

with the scent of 100 toxins from his hair, which you

found sort of nice. you start to drag your fingers

through his crunchy hair, easily getting knots out so

you don’t hurt him.

“you didn’t have to do this,” he says quietly, watching

you in the mirror as you comb through his hair.

you smile at him without making eye contact.

“oh, i know. i want to. it’s fun.” you say in an almost

monotone voice since you were concentrating. he

doesn’t respond , only admires you. you start to work

your magic, pinning up chunks of hair and letting

some fall, costing your hands with gel and infesting

his nest with hairspray. it was time to move to the

front, but a strand you had in your hand had to

stretch to that direction.

you walk around Veneer, your arms basically

wrapped around him, and stand in front of him whilst

pinning up that strand of hair you had in your hand.

this position seemed to last a little longer than it

should have, as you were shaking from nervousness.

you held your breath , anxious that he would feel it on

him.

you back away for a second, looking at your progress

so far, and he looked up at you with his big beady

eyes , as if he was just waiting for you to do

something. you tried to shake off the tension, but it

didn’t help when you had to get up in his face to fix

the obnoxiously huge wave in hair.

and there you were, your hands all up in his hair, your

faces inches apart, and all you could think about was

if his green lipstick tasted like lime.

you were nearly done, you would be able to breathe

in 10 seconds, when you two locked eyes. you didn’t

notice how flushed in the face he was until now. his

lips were slightly parted, his eyes gleamed as he

searched your eyes.

he shifted in his seat, and you backed away, letting

out a shaky exhale.

“o-okay, your hair is done. i’ll re touch your makeup.”

you said nervously , picking up his stick of lipstick

that was next to his sisters. you leaned close to him

once more, held his chin like you would your

favourite book, and swiped his bottom lip very

carefully. then, he had jerked his head oh so slightly

to the side, causing a smudge. you just stood there

thinking ‘shit , i need to wipe that off,’.

if only that’s what you were really thinking.

before you could comprehend your next action, he

muttered your name in a whisper and reached his

head forward, pressing his stained lips to your tinted

ones. you dropped the stick of lipstick, your hand

still in the air , and let yourself melt into the feeling.

your heads simultaneously titled as a natural flow of

kissing started, and Veneers fingers danced on the

skin of your forearms. you could feel the energy

coming off of him, how he desired more passion of

your slow, sweet kisses, but he was already drunk off

of what you were giving him now.

then he stood, leaning you gently against the vanity,

putting one hand on the platform and the other

snaked around your waist to support you. you kept

yours on his shoulders, not wanting to mess up his

hair, but he couldn’t care less.

he wanted you.

pulling away from each other, you both caught your

breaths, your eyes still closed to capture what just

happened. you felt his right hand take yours, your

fingers intertwining as he left a trail of kisses down

your jaw and rested his forehead on the crook of your

neck, smiling against you.

“Veneer…” you whisper, nudging your shoulder to

make him lift his head. he hummed in response and

looked at you, a sly smile on his face. you felt

flustered , trying to turn your head away but he used

his cheek to guide your face back towards him,

giving you a soft kiss in return. you then feel alarmed

and pushed him back slightly.

“ shit ! you have to GO, Velvet is going to kill you,

fuck, your makeup isn’t done, i-“

Veneer cut you off with a finger to your lips, waiting

for you to be quiet before backing away, putting his

shoulder pads on.

“I don’t care , dear. it’s a look, some fan will love it.”

he winked at you and opened the door, turning his

head to look at you.

“doesn’t it tell them that i’m off limits anyway?” he

clearly teased and your mouth parted slightly in awe.

he chuckled, his eyes falling half open.

“meet me backstage after the show , y/n. maybe we

can ruin the lipstick a little more.”

you stood there in disbelief.

˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° .

i hope u guys enjoyed this, my writing isn’t terrific 😞 if u have any suggestions about making Veneers character more realistic or just ideas for more one shots pls lmk !!! p.s im open to doing all genders for Veneer , i just wanted to stay neutral for my first fic <33

#velvet and veneer #trolls veneer #mount rageous #trolls #trolls band together #veneer x reader #one shot #fluff #gn reader

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tnystrk-exe · 3 years

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Estocolmo 3

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

First Chapter

Warnings: 18+ thigh riding, in a public setting, degration, cockwarming

Word count: 6k

Chapter Three

Maybe you hadn’t thought through about going to Hannibal’s dinner party. In the moment you had just missed the sound of his voice. His touch… Okay, you were motivated by other things than how much fun you would have at this little dinner party of his.

However you had to pull a lot of strings and work extra shifts, just so your bosses would even consider letting you off for a couple days. You were a valuable worker, one that would damage them to lose, but pettiness didn’t know any bounds. The stress was adding up. Still you trudged through it all. Not one to ever want to end up on Hannibal’s bad side.

You didn’t like making the perfect, polite ones angry. Loud anger you could handle. You were used to it. Quiet anger was just upsetting. He’d be upset you let him down, but he wouldn’t say it right. A soft sigh followed by a half meant it’s okay would probably be the most he’d give you. Disappointing him was a no go.

“I can’t wait for you to leave.”

“You’re so good at making me feel loved.”

“You know I do!” She laid back in your bed, arm’s comfortably behind her head, “But since you planned yourself a date. I did too.”

You grabbed clothes and threw them into a small duffel bag. “The chick from work?”

“God I wish. Can't work up the courage.”

“Don’t tell me you called up Reggie,” you laughed.

“Don’t tell me you got called up by Hannibal,” she mocked your voice. “Look! We’re a team! You can get dicked by someone that doesn’t deserve you. And I’ll romance a very pretty woman the entire weekend.”

“When is she getting here?”

“I’m shooting the text the second you’re out that door.”

You sighed, “You replace me so easily.”

“Oh baby,” she cooed, “Remember who’s leaving who.”

“A couple of days. You could be lonely for a few days.”

Alex walked you out. Stressing that you had to text her throughout your drive. It was only a three hour drive, but a lot could happen within that time.

All in all it wasn’t a bad trip. Monotonous without your usual partner in the passenger seat, but not bad. Your nerves bit at you. Hannibal’s social presence really was everything to him. Your head ran though countless ways you could mess up the night. Ultimately you wouldn’t, you knew that, but your brain sure did like to torture you with the idea.

“Everything will be fine,” you told yourself as you parked alongside the manor. Staying in the car for a moment you built yourself up. It was Hannibal. He knew about your home life. How you took your coffee. The things you’ve allowed him to do to you. Probably some understanding of things that he hadn’t done to you yet. A knock on your window pulled you out of your thoughts.

Opening the door you got out of the car.

“You weren’t thinking of running away, I hope,” Hannibal greeted.

“I wasn’t. Nerves,” you admitted. “It’s usually just the two of us, y’know…”

“Darling,” he scoffed, adjusting a piece of your hair, “I have no doubt in my mind that my companions wouldn’t adore you as much as I do.”

You moved to grab your bag, only for Hannibal to immediately take it from you. “You say that now, but that’s only because you’ve become accustomed to that certain charm I have at three in the morning after a night of studying. I’m not sure I can be as adorable to all of your friends.”

“Anyone that thinks otherwise has no place in my home.” Hannibal grabbed your hand in his own, leading you to the manor.

Once the front door closed, he wasted no time pulling you close. The kiss was long and rough. Both attempting to make up for lost time in the limited minutes you had. A soft moan from you made him press you against the door, the bag that had been in his hand long forgotten. His hand pressed lightly against your throat as he pushed a knee in between yours.

It was a long while before he pulled away. He rested his forehead against yours. “I’ve missed my favorite plaything,” He spoke into the shared air, “You’ve been away so long.”

“Your favorite?” You asked, looking at him dazed.

He smiled, mischief in his eyes. “I’d wager they couldn’t kiss you so well you’d look at them like they hung the stars after.”

“I do not!”

“Of course you don’t, darling.” He picked up your bag. “Come, we should start getting dressed.” You followed Hannibal up the stairs to his room. Apparently yours too, at least for the next couple of nights, since he emptied the contents of your bag into an empty dresser drawer. “You’re more than welcome to explore if you do get uncomfortable. I know meeting a sea of people can feel overwhelming.”

“I’m just afraid I’ll be out of place.”

“You’re exactly where I want you to be,” he disappeared into the walk-in closet, “The other’s are decent enough people. However, it makes sense that such divine beauty doesn’t fit in amongst commoners. I’d never dream of you finding yourself their equal.”

You walked over to examine the drawings he had hung on the wall next to his bed. “I’m not sure I’m worthy of such high thought.”

He came back, placing the suit and dress onto the bed. Standing behind you, he wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. “I really do mean it, beloved. You’re strong and intelligent. As much as I’d like to, you won’t allow me to pull strings and help you. That’s more than most of the crowd coming over tonight. They haven’t faced hardships like yourself and I. Don’t allow yourself to be treated less than and, please, tell me if anyone makes you feel that way.”

You turned your head, kissing his cheek. “I’m not sure I believe it, but I’m grateful for the thought.”

“I simply must make it my mission to prove it.” He inhaled deeply, “You’ve changed your perfume?”

“I liked the one you bought,” you said simply, getting out of his arms, you looked at the dress he had gotten you. The piece of fabric was easily the most expensive thing you owned now. It didn’t match his suit, but the two certainly complimented each other. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I want to,” he went to open another dresser drawer, pulling out a small box, “Consider it all a graduation present. You worked hard and deserve a reward for it. We didn’t get a chance to see one another before you left.”

“You’ve had these since then?” You asked.

“Of course. How could I resist an opportunity to find you a gift? And with Alex so graciously allowing me to buy you a dress, I figured tonight would be a wonderful time to give you your gift.” He opened the jewelry box.

“Hannibal,” you gasped quietly, the jewelry glimmered brightly, “It’s beautiful.” Usually you weren’t one for objects, but this was also the most thoughtful thing you’ve ever received. Hannibal had taken the small bits he knew of you and picked out the perfect pieces of jewelry for you. It was the feeling of being known so well that made it special.

“The second I saw this set I couldn’t help but think of my darling girl. Would you like me to put the necklace on you now?”

You quickly shook your head, “After I get dressed, please. I wouldn’t want to risk dirtying it while I’m getting ready.”

“In that case, I’ll show you where you can get ready.”

You grabbed the things you needed to make yourself look presentable and followed Hannibal to the bathroom. To your surprise he started to undress after he hung up his suit and your dress. You shrugged it off and set your stuff on the counter, you were more than comfortable with him and you and Alex had taken to doing similar in your cramped bathroom early mornings. The shower turned on while you took out your makeup. His humming filled the otherwise quiet room.

When you were pleased with how your makeup looked, you moved on to fussing with your hair. The shower shut off and your eyes wandered briefly in the mirror. You watched the show as he dried off his chest and followed the towel up as he dried his hair. He caught your eye, brow raised, you shrugged and sent a wink his way.

You got undressed, tossing your clothes in the hamper as you did. Walking over to the dress you felt the fabric between your fingers, studying the intricate pattern that was sown on to it.

“You don’t like it, darling?” Hannibal asked as he buttoned his shirt. “There’s another in the closet, but I was hopeful you’d like this one. You'd look stunning.”

“Admiring,” you stated simply, “Wait there’s another?”

“There’s a show, I’d like to see tomorrow. I figured it could be an outing for us.” He checked himself over before styling his hair. “This is ‘Making it worth my while’ as Alex said.”

“Han, you know better than to listen to Al.” You sighed, “I’m grateful, I honestly am. It’s just embarrassing. I really can’t give you anything in return.”

Hannibal came over to you, holding one of your hands in his. “They’re simple trinkets of my affection. In the end they all mean nothing. YN, you grace me with your presence and time, which is something that can never be repaid in form. I hold you dearly, your time is more than I deserve.”

You stood on the tips of your toes kissing him gently. There was all the time later for a rougher touch. Now you just wanted to feel him pressed close against yourself. A brief flick of thought asked if you really wanted this to just be a fleeting thing between friends. Pulling away, you gave him one final kiss to the side of his mouth.

“You’re allowed to give me one gift a month,” you teased, as you grabbed his tie and set to work on tying it for him. “You’re not my sugar daddy, as much as Alex wishes you were.”

“And you’re welcome to set as many rules as you’d like when it comes to this. However, what’s forcing me to follow them?” His hands grazed along your sides, “We both understand who makes the rules, don’t we little one?”

The part of you that had become accustomed to that particular tone, faltered slightly. “Hannibal, we’re not always in sessions,” you reminded him as you tightened the tie, “You can’t just have your way.”

“Why not?”

You shook your head, annoyed, “Or you can do what you’d like. It’s your wallet after all.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized immediately, “I don’t want to offend you.”

You let it go, there was no use to fight over this. “It’s okay, you’re only teasing right?”

“May I please see you in the dress?” He asked, lightening the mood.

You turned, returning to the piece of elegant fabric. Carefully you pulled it on. He really was excellent when it came to fashion. The dress hugged the right places and accentuated everything wonderfully. Hannibal stepped behind you once again. Zipping the back for you, his fingers trailing up as he did. Carefully, he moved your hair to the side as he fixed the necklace in place. Dipping his head down, he kissed that spot on your neck he had quickly learned turned you to putty in his hands. You leaned against him, angling your neck to give him better access as a soft moan escaped. His teeth grazed gently against your neck, he seemed to toy with the idea of making a mark before backing away. As much as he’d enjoy to see it blossom, he knew you had many first impressions to make.

You whimpered at the loss of contact. Suddenly realizing just how much you had missed him.

“I know, little one,” he sighed, pressing a kiss on the side of your ear, “but we have a night to get through. After this, I belong to you. We will have all tomorrow for each other.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

The dinner party was beautifully done. Of course it was. Hannibal never spared any expense, let alone when he was trying to impress. He had introduced you to a couple people, they were nice enough, but you just couldn’t find a connection with them. You definitely steered clear of Bedelia. That woman was intimidating to a whole other degree. Definitely someone you could actually see Hannibal going after. You wondered why he didn’t.

An hour into the dinner party, you slipped away. He had said you could explore and honestly, without him you weren’t much for conversation. You had already gotten a snide look for saying you worked at a bar on nights, but they didn’t hold much interest for you either. All the conversations you had heard were meaningless droning. People constantly trying to one up another or bragging about something new they acquired or some business deal.

So it was safe to say no one noticed your absence. Well maybe one extremely observant man.

You found yourself in his library, taking residence in a nook next to a window. Hannibal’s sketch book in your lap as you looked over his drawings. Each drawing looked like he must have spent hours on it. You marveled at his talent, watching the range go from almost romantic to grouesome. Some things could be recognized as his take on art pieces, and landscapes, while others seemed to be originals. The originals were darker in nature, but you supposed it made sense. He saw death as something comforting and could be considered beautiful. Of course it would translate into his pieces.

The door opened, revealing the man that occupied your thoughts at the moment. “Is everything alright, darling? No one bothered you, I hope.”

You smiled up at him. “I’m fine. I just wanted a break, I’m getting a little bit of a headache.”

“Oh?” He touched your forehead with the back of his hand, “Are you feeling well?”

“I’ll go back in a moment,” you promised himas you brought his hand down to press a peck onto it, “Go enjoy your party.”

“They can keep themselves entertained for a while.” He took a seat next to you, pulling you to rest against him. “I could use a moment too.”

You couldn’t stave off the smile that played on your lips to get to have him to yourself. He made you feel comfortable and honestly you were out of your element at this party. Hannibal rested his head against the wall. That left his neck vulnerable and you couldn’t resist placing a kiss on it.

“Why must you insist on acting up when we are alone, darling girl?” He hummed quietly, his hand entertained itself absentmindedly drawing things on your thigh.

“I missed you,” you insisted. “Not just like that. We used to spend a lot of time together.”

“It has been a long time. I’m sorry about that.”

“I had your number too. I’m not completely out of blame.”

“Well, you’ll find a way to make it up to me.” He tugged you closer, “You’re too far.”

You straddled one of his thighs, placing your hand on his shoulders. “I’m sure you have a couple ideas of how.”

“A couple.”

Leaning in you caught him in a kiss. His hand started to trail lower, you caught him by the wrist before he got to his destination, placing his hand back on your hip. With his original plan voided, he bounced his thigh against you, the hands on your hips helping you grind down. You couldn’t help the moan you let out. Letting him continue until you remembered the party happening not so far away.

“Hannibal,” you whined against his lips, “Not right now.”

“But you sound so sweet, darling, don’t mind them.” He continued his earlier assault on your neck, this time not thinking twice before sucking his mark onto it. “You look so beautiful tonight. I know you can give me one before we’re missed, you’re always so good for me. Don’t you want to be good?”

The growing lust clouded your judgement. Hannibal’s soft words and the gentle but perfect rhythm he was working on made it hard to find any reason to argue.

“Yes, daddy,” you sighed softly, “I want to be good for you.”

The door opened again, followed by a dramatic gasp, “Hannibal, having dessert before the rest of us?” The strange man eyed you, “Plan on sharing?”

Hannibal had been quick to tug down the dress that had rode up, keeping you safe from prying eyes. “Unfortunately, I’m not one for sharing. If you don’t mind waiting in the hall. I’ll meet with you in a second.”

“Oh, I’d much prefer to stay. Hello, what’s your name? Is Hannibal keeping you entertained?”

You hid your face against Hannibal’s shoulder, your face burning to the touch.

“Shy thing isn’t she, daddy?”

“I really must insist you leave now,” Hannibal said, the anger evident in his voice.

“Fine, killjoy.” You heard retreating steps and the door closed again.

“Of course out of everyone to find us it was the gossip,” he sighed to himself, dropping a kiss to the top of your head, “I’m sorry about that, love.”

“I told you not now,” you said, pulling away and going back to your seat beside him.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he kissed the back of your hand, “I thought we’d have a couple more minutes before someone looked for us, let alone find us. Let me handle this and then you’ll never see him again.”

You nodded. “Can I go to the room for the night? He made me feel… strange.”

“Darling,” he cupped your cheek, a sad look in his eyes, “this is your home more than anyone else out there. Don’t let him ruin the night for us. I’ll make sure he’s gone and stay by you the rest of the night. Does that sound okay?”

And true to his word he was, he had escorted the man out quickly once he found him. However the Gossip was apparently a fast worker, because a couple people did give you lingering looks. Though they were quick to save face if they so much as thought Hannibal noticed. Whatever they thought didn’t matter. You were two grown, consenting adults that enjoyed each other’s company, be damned what others thought. Throughout the night you kept telling yourself that, hoping to cut the embarrassment short. A couple times you caught yourself, thoughtlessly intertwining your fingers with Hannibal’s when you were less than sturdy. Each time he squeezed your fingers gently, quiet reassurance that he was there for you.

You woke up the following morning. Hannibal was still asleep beside you, it must have been early. He looked sweet in the mornings. Relaxed, not as stiff as he usually was, his hair sticking up in places he’d immediately flatten out once he woke as he greeted you with that deeper more accented voice that accompanied the mornings. You pressed a kiss to his chest, before carefully removing the arm that was sprawled across your stomach.

Looking at the clock, you considered the time. There was enough if you worked quickly. Standing up, you grabbed one of your shirts and shorts. After freshening up, you made your way down to the kitchen.

It was different. You hadn’t toured much of the home, let alone know where anything was, but you gathered your bearings fast enough. The things you needed had been placed somewhat similarly to his old home and you set everything onto the counter. Protein scramble, fruit, and pancakes seemed like a good option today. The pancakes, he had taught you to make when you asked where the box mix was and obviously he wouldn’t stand for you not knowing how to make something so simple from scratch.

Your phone played music as you set to work, washing the used dishes along the way so there wasn’t too much of a mess.

As you were plating the food, you heard Hannibal call out your name.

“Kitchen!” You called out.

He was quick to meet you, “Darling, I could have made you breakfast. You should have stayed in bed with me.”

“I couldn’t sleep any more and you looked too sweet to wake,” you poured two cups of coffee and prepared them to both of your liking, “Figured why not play domestic for a while.”

“How did you like it?” He asked, walking over to take the cup from you.

“Eh well you know, the domestic life,” you shrugged, feeding him a cut strawberry, “I like to let my partner sleep in on Saturday’s and make them comfort breakfasts. Sometimes they ruin breakfast in bed by coming down too early, but what can you do?”

He chuckled around the bite of strawberry, “I’m sorry, beloved. I’ll stay put next time.”

“Yes, you will.” You stood on the tips of your toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “But I’m not too angry at you. I enjoy your company.”

His fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. “Aren’t you usually sporting my shirts on these mornings?”

“I didn’t want to ruin one of them.”

“You couldn’t ruin a thing if you tried. I’ve got more than enough for you to steal away when you go back home too.”

“I only took them, because someone made a habit of messing up my shirts.”

“And your reasoning for keeping them, little one?” He grabbed the plates, “Come along, the mornings have been wonderful recently.”

You grabbed the cups. “You should’ve come and picked them up the same way I had. It’s your own fault they aren’t back where they belong.”

The afternoon was spent in each other’s company. Hannibal had insisted he’d wash the remaining dishes and asked you to pick up his sketchbook and pencils from the library since you were going to find yourself something to read. You did as asked, before returning outside. Setting his things on the table, you went to go sit in a sunny spot of grass.

It wasn’t long until Hannibal rejoined you outside and took a seat.

You glanced up curiously after a while, he was sketching away.

“Anything I can do for you, beloved?” He asked, not looking up from his work.

“Just watching.”

He hummed in response.

Some unease settled in your stomach when you remembered why exactly you were over here. What was the harm in voicing it? “Hannibal?” You waited until he looked up at you, “You’re okay that we haven’t slept together yet? I mean… I know that’s why I am here.”

It was true, the lingering looks you had gotten at dinner, paired with the small embarrassment of realizing one of Hannibal’s love bites got to bloom in front of them all threw you off at night. You had tried to let yourself go, let him have control of you for a while, but you couldn’t go past taking off some clothes and letting your hands feel the other. He didn’t mind when you didn’t want to do more. Always the gentleman. Instead he settled you against his chest, an arm keeping you close, quiet conversation and long breathtaking kisses filled the night.

“I’m not one of those little boys you’ve found,” he stated, seeming to be mildly offended, “I enjoy our quiet moments just as much, if not more. Sex is something else we could do together, nothing more. It’s not everything, little one. You’re not here for that purpose. What I enjoy is your company and I’ll take it any way you give it.”

You tilted your head looking at him closely, he mimicked you, narrowing his eyes at you playfully. That made you laugh softly, you decided he was being honest and not covering up his disappointment with sweet words. Patting the grass next to you, “Sit with me.”

“YN…”

“Please?” You asked, sweetening the pot with a pout.

He shook his head but gathered his things, soon joining you. Resting your head on his shoulder you looked at what he was sketching. The scene was you at the present moment. Half faced toward him, book in hand, completely relaxed, and more perfect than you ever dreamed of being.

“That’s an exaggeration, I’m not that beautiful.”

“That’s where we must differ, my love,” he kissed your temple, “Try as I might I’ll never be able to draw you with the dignity you deserve. It’s a poor imitation of the way I perceive you.”

“You’re a ridiculous man,” you said fondly, “Though I suppose I’d like to keep you around a while longer.”

“Suppose” he scoffed, “ You’d be lost without me.”

You stuck your tongue out at him childishly and went back to your book.

“Darling, I do adore when you take care of yourself, but we’ll be late if you don’t hurry,” Hannibal said, leaning on the bathroom’s door frame already dressed for the outing.

“It’s not my fault you always manage to get the bath perfect,” you groaned, getting out of the bathtub.

Hannibal walked over, grabbing a towel on his way. “I’ll run you another later.”

You took the towel, drying yourself off. It was nice to see a rare impatient Hannibal. There was more to that calm and collected demeanor he usually had. “You’re cute when you’re excited about something. Where are we going?”

“I got us tickets to the opera.”

“Really!” You lit up at that. When he talked about the shows he had seen before, he’d get so much more animated. It would be nice to experience one with him. “Which one?”

“Die Entführung aus dem Serail,” he answered, taking you in with a smile, “but darling, your excitement may go to waste, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll be quick!”

With you keeping your promise and Hannibal’s quick driving, it didn’t take anytime to make it to the opera house. There was time to spare and Hannibal socialized a bit, introducing you to other regulars. You exchanged pleasantries and let Hannibal control the conversation as you looked around the place. Some people you recognized from last night. One person you saw nod towards you whispering something to his companion.

“I didn’t think he’d be one for cradle robbing,” you caught the man say, as he eyed you up, “Lucky man. Reckon I could steal that little piece away?”

You subtly moved closer to Hannibal, feeling the heat rise to your face.

Hannibal turned his attention to you when the others started talking amongst themselves. “Are you alright?” He asked quietly, tucking away a strand of your hair that fell out of place.

“Yeah. I’m great,” you lied, knowing he’d probably take offense to any minute comment made about whatever kind of relationship the two of you had.

“Are you certain?” The tone of voice saying he knew you were hiding something. He always seemed to read you so easily. In that he knew you’d continue to deny anything. “Would you like to go to our seats now? The show should start in a couple of minutes.”

“Yes, please.”

Hannibal grabbed your hand in his, leading you away from the crowd. To your surprise he took you to a private balcony above the rest of the audience seating. “Since, it’s your first time, I figured privacy would do us well. No distractions,” he paused for a moment, “No one to get into that pretty little head of yours.”

“I just don’t enjoy all the looks and comments,” you sighed, allowing him to pull you down onto the seat with him. “I love spending time with you. It’s just soured by people that don’t mind their own.”

“It’s not ideal, but we mustn’t let them ruin our nights. With this kind of community, people make assumptions and talk. Darling, I really do insist you tell me when someone makes you upset.”

“I know, I know. Guess I should have braced for it more. I’m just not used to these kinds of things. When we’re alone it’s easy to just exist together. Just us.”

“I understand completely. However, I do enjoy that we finally got to leave the house. You look absolutely breathtaking tonight.”

You smiled at that, “Well, you do seem to have an eye for what suits me.”

“That, I do.”

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you breathed the comforting scent of his cologne, “I’m sorry I let them get to me when we're supposed to be enjoying our time together. It’s not fair to you.”

“They get annoying,” he gave your thigh a gentle squeeze, “Of course you’d take offense for us. There isn’t much we can do besides understand that we’re here for the right reasons. Though, it does get under my skin to see you affected so under my care.”

Soon the crowd made their way to the seats and the lights dimmed to near black. When the music started Hannibal whispered translations into your ear. You got caught up in the story between watching the characters go through their woes and Hannibal’s gentle voice guiding you through every detail. It was easy to see what Hannibal saw at these events. They really were thrilling to watch. Still it wasn’t so much the show, but getting to know another side of the man in question.

You looked at the man beside you, a happy smile plastered on your face. “Thank you for bringing me, Hannibal.”

“Anything for you, my love.”

“Your love?” You challenged teasingly.

A couple times he had thrown around the pet name. You didn’t take it for much. He was a sweet, old fashioned man, you had decided to believe. A sweet nothing that neither of you minded. Still you couldn’t deny the slight softness you felt from the moniker.

“You’ve promised yourself as all mine before,” he reminded you, “and I take no issue in claiming what’s mine.”

“That was said when I was drunk on you.”

“Deny all you’d like, sweet girl, you’re still mine.”

Hannibal tilted your head up slightly to kiss you. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care about why the music crescendoed in that moment. Not when he was kissing you with more passion than you had ever felt. He had a way of making it feel like you were the only beings in existence. Hannibal bit at your lip, asking for more, and you gave it to him without a thought. You’d do whatever he wanted at that moment. Still you couldn’t help grabbing his wrist when his hand found it’s way up your dress. He swallowed the helpless moan that slipped past your lips greedily.

You pulled away from him, your hips grinding onto his hand on their own accord. “Hannibal, I-“

He hushed you, “You’re missing a very important part of the show.” His hand didn’t let up from its ministrations as he continued to translate for you.

You went to cover your mouth with your hand, but Hannibal stopped you short, placing it back at your side. A quick mummer of be good was all he offered, not once stopping the pace he had set. You choked back the moan when he pressed against a spot that had been long neglected since the last time you paid him a visit. The music being so loud was your only safe haven, still, you pressed yourself further into Hannibal, hoping to hide yourself further from any wandering eyes that might look away from the show. Embarrassment and lust built with every thrust of Hannibal’s fingers. The former was getting increasingly easier to ignore as Hannibal pulled you closer and closer to your end. Pressing your face against his neck, you bit at the skin there in a cheap attempt at revenge for what he was putting you through.

Hannibal’s fingers stilled. A quiet chuckle met your ear when he heard your whimper of protest, stopping your hips as you attempted to help yourself. “Such an easy thing to toy with, you're nothing more than my own personal whore.” He didn’t miss the throb around his fingers at those words. “You’d let me use you however I’d like wouldn’t you?”

You gave a lazy nod as he brought his fingers up to your mouth. Eager to please him, hoping he’d let you finish, you opened your mouth and sucked his fingers clean. Behind your back, you felt him working himself out of his pants. Taking his hand away he adjusted your dress higher before pulling you on to his lap. With his other hand the head of his cock teased your clit, you forced yourself not to complain, knowing he’d go on longer if you did. When he finally pushed into you, you couldn’t fight off the moan of contentment as he filled you completely. Turning your head, you caught him in a languid kiss, caught up in only him despite the performance going on.

“Please?”

“What do you need?”

“You.” You shifted your hips slightly, “May I please move?”

“I’m sorry, little one,” you caught the slight upward twitch of his lip when you looked at him in disbelief, “I’d rather use you at my leisure.”

You whined in frustration, leaning against him knowing he’d play a cruel game. This time he offered no translations, keeping you entirely focused on the feeling of him buried deep inside of you doing nothing to help relieve your need for him. When you did manage to distract yourself, he circled your clit and gave a few sharp thrust, just enough to bring you back where he wanted you. His hand continued, changing the rhythm every so often so you’d stay aware of your position.

“I’ll be so good,” you begged helplessly.

“And yesterday you had been so against it despite having our privacy in the library,” he reminded you, pushing in and out of you in a too slow pace, but at least he was moving, “What was it that was missing, hm? The audience that could look up and see me using what’s mine?”

You didn’t know what had changed. Not truely. Maybe it was the couple of glasses of wine you had drunk throughout the day. Perhaps it was just finally getting what you had wanted for so long. Honestly, you couldn’t find yourself to be curious enough to find out.

“I wanna cum,” you told him, swallowing the embarrassment.

“I don’t know, darling, you’ve tried to find comfort with others. I really can’t say I approve of the notion. Suppose, I could just use you for your worth and leave you dry.” He groaned into your ear as you clenched around him, he sped up his thrust, “There’s my good girl, you like the sound of that?”

“Hannibal, please,” you whimpered, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Beg for it.”

“I’ll never look for anyone else again. It was so stupid to think anyone else could make me feel as good as you.” Your breath hitched when he struck deeper, “I've been so desperate for you.”

“That’s all so very sweet, but that’s not exactly what I want to hear.”

You whined quietly as you tried to figure out the right combination of words to get you what you wanted. “I’m just yours… No one else’s… You’re the only one, I’m so sorry…”

“See? Was it so hard to apologize for your misconduct?”

You shook your head.

He pinched your thigh. “Words, darling.”

“No, daddy,” you moaned, as his hands guided your hips to move with him, “But I’ll be good for you now.”

“I still don’t think you deserve to cum, you pathetic thing.”

“You’ll let me?”

Hannibal’s hand grabbed your jaw roughly, making you look at him. “Next time I won’t be so generous. Understood?”

You swallowed down the slight twinge of fear that had worked its way into your system. “Yes, sir.”

He pushed your face away. “Work for it yourself.”

Tag list: @charc0al-grey @songofcosplay

#Hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal x reader #slasher x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #slasher imagines #smut

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newcaptainofsquad9 · 3 years

Text

To Be Loved And Deserved~Myoui Mina x black! fem! reader

Pairing: Mina x reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance, angst, smut, hurt and comfort

Summary: With the distance you created due to your anxiety and self doubt, Mina sought to lessen it and show you how much she cares about you.

Word Count: 1, 962

Author’s note: A continuation/sequel to this fic. Smut ahead, so there’s your warning, 18 plus from this point. Also, sorry if it’s trash I’m having a hard time focusing and finishing things so I finally got something done! Hope ya’ll enjoy!

Cosplay is always fun for you, especially when your girlfriend, Mina joined in the fun. At first, she loved to only gush about you and your presence and flair with the craft (her words), but with enough pleas and kisses, she gave it a try. The first cosplay the both you did together was Korra and Asami from The Legend of Korra, and the first you both shared on tiktok. It wasn’t the last as the both of you delved into some of your favorite pairings/partnerships, or ships in general from media: Renji and Rukia from Bleach, Jon Snow and Daenarys Targaryen, and various Marvel characters (Mina insisted of course).

There was one that people criticized you the most for and that was your cosplay of Princess Bubblegum, in all her pink and pretty glory, yet many commenters didn’t feel the same way about you. Like how they thrashed you of your sailor moon and other anime cosplay, they stressed over how Bubblegum wasn’t black and how you weren’t built for cosplay as much as Mina was. It hurt, damaged you as much that you began to distance yourself from your girlfriend. You only told her you need space, of course being Mina she didn’t question until it became weeks--your phone blew up with texts from a worried Mina which escalated to calls, tik tok and Instagram messages. You cut yourself off from her and the comments, only leaving your room when necessary. The calls soon stopped.

Instead, a knock echoed throughout your home, jerking you from your burrito like position wrapped around your comforter. You knew she’d come over eventually, but the conversation isn’t something you’re looking forward to. Did Mina want to break up with you? You didn’t, you loved her so much that it hurt but she wouldn’t understand how much you felt. People only praised her when she tried, not calling her ugly or telling her a cosplay isn’t right because of her race.

You got up from your bed, sighing at the cold that fit your tummy and toes once your comforter fell. It took a few shuffles but you found the front door as more knocks continued. Your heart pumped with each thud before you gathered enough courage to open it.

Mina’s fist was still raised as she ceased knocking.

“Y/N,” she said.

“Mina I--”

You were cut off by Mina throwing her arms around you.

“Thank God,” she whispered against the skin of your cheek. “You’re OK, you’re actually OK.”

Your arms wrapped around her back instantly as the emotion that bubbled up inside you came crashing down through a heat of tears that rushed.

“S-So, does that mean you don’t want to break up with me?” you asked.

Mina pulled back immediately.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” she said. “Y/N please just--”

You cut her off with a deep sob, no longer holding on without her. Mina’s arms wrapped around your waist, cooing softly as she cupped your cheeks. She stepping with you, slow and steady as the both of you moved as one towards your room.

Once you reached it, she lay back against the bed next to you with enough space between you both.

Your eyes dart to the covers beneath you as silence fell. Mina opened her mouth to speak, yet closed it as you began to speak as well.

Mina’s hands flew back to your face as her face flushed with a bit of red.

“You should go first,”she said.

You nodded, it’s the least you could do since you kept her in the dark for awhile.

“You did nothing wrong Mina,” you started. “I-I had a bad time on Tik-Tok, my anxiety got out of hand and--”

The sound of Mina’s gasp cut you off, her face serious yet again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said. “I always check in with you when things are hard for me.”

You nodded; the sadness Mina expressed breaking your heart more and more.

“I know, and I wanted to talk to you, believe me I did but,” you paused. Mina tilted her head.

“But?” she asked before silently telling you to go on.

“My problems, are completely different from yours, you get so much praise from our cosplays,” you said. “I scrolled through thousands of them all commenting on how accurate your cosplay is, even if it wasn’t completely all there--no one called you names or sought to stereotypes to discredit you.”

Mina’s lips parted, looking to speak but she only nodded and rubbed your back.

“A-And I’m not blaming you, it has nothing to do with you,” you declared. “But seeing how they brought you up, just to yank me down made me resent you--just for a moment! That’s why I needed space.”

Mina blinked away tears, forcing your own to build up as she wrapped her arms around you.

“I’m sorry Mina,” you whispered against her chest.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she said. “You let me back in, even if we have different problems, I’m always here to listen and support. OK?”

Her hands traveled up and down your sides, making the shirt you wore ride up a bit to bare soft skin. You nodded, then a shudder rippled through at Mina’s contact; your girlfriend noticed and narrowed her eyes.

“I missed you,” she whispered. “Every part of you.”

Her words followed with a few pecks to your lips, across your jawline then down to your neck.

“I-I missed you too.”

Mina smiled. It was her toothy smile with her adorable gums and the shininess of her eyes.

“Yeah? I hope you didn’t just miss me and lay here all day,” she said with a hint of teasing.

“No,” you said, heat flushing to your cheeks. “I-I watched a lot of Netflix, thought about things and ate some cookies.”

Mina giggled.

“Oh? What kind of cookies?” she asked while her hands still lingered at your sides softly.

Her touch almost made you lose your train of thought. You shifted around the bed, flopping to the other side before reaching over to the dresser to grab the pack of cookies.

“Strawberry cream ones,” you said in between a few bites. “Want some?”

Mina smiled as you chewed, then eventually swallowing.

“No, but I’d much rather enjoy lovely strawberry kisses,” she whispered.

You nearly choked on the rest of your cookie as Mina giggled and caressed your face, gently while you finished the few cookies you decided to eat.

“Is it OK, if I kiss you?” she asked, leaning in to touch your forehead with her own. “And show you how much you are loved?”

Her words were tender, you barely reacted as her lips ghosted across your throat, jaw then cheek. A sigh escaped you; Mina’s kisses got harder, most likely leaving bruises and marks but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the warm feeling your girlfriend spurred within you. Mina noticed your silence and pulled back with soft eyes.

“Y/N? Are you OK?”

You nodded.

“Yes,” you said before initiating the kiss this time.

Mina moved fervently against your lips, hands moving down your sides to lift your shirt just enough to caress more skin and soft noises from.

“Mina,” you moaned.

“What would you like me to do, baby girl?” she whispered. “Anything you want, just let me love you.”

Your hands tangled themselves in her curly hair while she trailed kisses down your neck and parts of your chest exposed to her thanks to your v neck.

“I just want to get lost in you,” you said. “Make me feel good. Make love to me, Mina.”

Mina’s kisses ceased once you told her, eyes sparkling with as much love and passion that you almost cry again. She kisses you once more. It’s softer now while her hands gently pull up your shirt; you help by taking it off completely. A knowing smile spread while her eyes wondered down and your bra-less chest.

“Y-You, I-I,” she paused as she tried to get her words together. “S-Stunning.”

You pulled her back to be flushed against you. Hands and fingers moved everywhere and all at once: Mina’s tracing each curve and stretch mark she could find; you tried to chase and follow her movements by unbuttoning her own shirt and tossing it on the floor.

The both of you ended up panting on the bed. Mina straddled you with you lain on the bed in a heap of breathless giggles. She continued marking you to the quick moves of her hips, making you gasp at her clothed heat.

“M-Mina-”

You were cut off by her getting off of you for a moment to pull you to the edge of the bed where she sat on her knees. The pajama bottoms you wore slipped off by Mina carefully, underwear following as she slipped them off in a matter of seconds. Her lips traced your legs, up thighs and lingered near the place you needed her the most.

“I need to gear you up, baby,” Mina whispered against the softness of your skin.

Her fingers swiped slowly at your folds. The sensation had moans slipping from your mouth; Mina smiled and coaxed you through are her movements as she slipped a finger inside you.

“Please, Mina--”

She finally followed your request, leaning up to climb over you, pulling her jeans down and kissing you fiercely. Her tongue slipped through, both of you not fighting for dominance over one another but the lust that was pent up for weeks. Your hands traveled down to Mina’s forearms, gripping tight as she sunk down: both of your soaking cores meeting. Her thrusts started up again with each kiss from your lips, jaw, chest then neck. The sensation wasn’t enough for you to handle. Mina smirked at the mess you were already with the moans building from you. When your eyes met, your heart-rate spiked up and the breath you barely had left; her eyes were shiny, careful and too pretty to look at. So much so, you couldn’t help but get teary eyed--you wanted to blame yourself again but Mina’s movements grew softer as her thrusts lessened.

“I love you so much,” you said, choking on the sobs that rocked your body.

Mina bit her lip at the slowed movements, both of you so close to climax while being lost in each others feelings and emotions.

“I love you too,” she panted. “Every part, do you understand? You’re beautiful OK?”

You nodded, adverted your eyes. Mina shook her head before gripping your chin.

“Say it, babygirl,” she purred. “Tell me, look at me. Tell me you’re beautiful.”

The deep, huskiness of her voice sent you over the edge, climax taking over while the words spilled from your lips.

“I-I’m beautiful!” you cried.

Mina beamed down at you with a sense of passion mixed in with enough cockiness to force you to climax yet again.

“I’m not the one you have to say that to,” she said. “But it is sexy seeing how I could make you do that and come.”

You rolled your eyes, then tried to roll over only for Mina to hold you by the arms while slipping from between you and onto the soft sheets beneath.

“Are you still thinking about what happened with those disrespectful people on Tik-Tok?” she asked while playing with rubbing her fingers softly down your arms.

“No, not when my girlfriend is here cheering me up and telling me how loved I am,” you said. “And you’re right, I need to start learning how to love myself better.”

Mina pressed a hard kiss to your forehead before burying her face into your neck.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way baby.

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

You Dance With Tears In Your Eyes

Summary: a college AU set up in the late 80s/early 90s with football star and quarterback Derek Morgan and his secret boyfriend Hotch-- it's not a happy story but I don't think I really have to warn you guys about that anymore

Also, a little based on a story my grandmother told me about my great uncle and his partner. Never met my great uncle but everyone says I'm a lot like him, I think they just mean gay but don't know how to say it

Warnings: homophobia, violence, racism *I mean it when I say homophobia*

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Aaron Hotchner

@yourlocalheartbreaker

The title is from Frank Ocean's song Self Control

Now and then you miss it, sounds make you cry Some nights you dance with tears in your eyes I came to visit, 'cause you see me like a UFO That's like never, 'cause I made you use your self-control And you made me lose my self-control, my self-control

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

Living shouldn’t be reduced down to what it is, the bare bones of things that don’t even make Derek Morgan who he is. He lives by them anyways, stupid rules. Social norms, Aaron always clarifies because even when those silly rules drown them Aaron needs to be concise. Social norms dictate every inch of life and for once Derek wishes he were the type of person who could be given that inch and take a mile. They’re the reason he can’t hold his boyfriend’s hand in public. Why he can’t kiss Aaron on New Years’ and why he is reduced down to loving his roommate. Why, at this rate, he’ll never marry or adopt children, or why he could lose any career he goes into because some nosy asshole finds out his partner isn’t a woman. And, yes, he knows there are anti-discriminatory laws but he’s a black gay man. The world is stacked against him.

It makes him so angry. He’s blinded by the irrational of it all, why nothing can just be simple for them. Aaron tries to comfort him but Derek’s anger scares him, he doesn’t understand it. Aaron has long lost the ability to decipher the complexity of human emotions. Still flinches at loud noises like he’s expecting each bump to be accompanied by the pain that laced his childhood and has to ask, around every turn, if Derek’s angry with him. He can’t tell. Everything looks like anger. With Derek, it frequently is. They cope in very different ways, Aaron chooses nothing. Shutting down all his emotions until he cracks and that’s worse. It’s worse than Derek’s anger. That doesn’t mean Derek doesn’t hate the way he quakes with fury. If not because it feels childish to be blinded by emotions then because it scares Aaron.

There are a million other things, at twenty there always is. It’s his philosophy class with all this bullshit reading he doesn’t understand. He has to ask Aaron for help and Aaron has to ask him for help with things too but it makes Derek feel stupid. It’s philosophy, it can’t be that hard. That’s the same way Aaron feels about calculus. There’s maintaining rent and going grocery shopping and football (games, practice, gym, and training).

College had been a learning curve. Getting up at four in the morning to go to the gym for football had been the hardest thing in the world without his mother flicking his bedroom lights on and off or Desiréecoming in to smack him in the face with a pillow. There’s no one in the entire world in charge of getting him out of his bed other than him and, in his freshman year, while he had thought sleeping on that impossibly hard mattress would leave much to be desired, and it did, he found himself glued to his every morning. Not wanting to leave the safety of its flimsy comfort.

Sharing an apartment worked wonders, having a workaholic boyfriend was really the best trick. An unexpected answer to his problems but, also, a very cute one. He managed to add one person to the list of people that cared about where he was, that made sure he got up in time to make it to the gym and practice, and asked if he had a bad day or rub at his sore muscles.

Derek rolls over in bed, not as surprised as he should be to find the other half empty. “Aaron?” He still searches, runs his hand over the sheets as if he doesn’t know that if Aaron were in the bed he’d be right there. Hogging the bed and the blankets, pressed up against Derek’s back snoring like there’s no tomorrow. “Aaron?” Derek sits up and squints, grimaces at the light trailing in from the open door.

Aaron’s hunched over the beginnings of an essay, pen ink smeared across his left palm and steadily chugging along. He can write a full essay in the span of a night, five hours for about 3,000 words but if it’s a short synopsis sort of thing then about an hour. Despite this astonishing gift, Aaron still makes himself write all his essays weeks in advance and spends days upon days proofreading and combing through them for the tiniest mistakes. He’s a straight-A student so he’s doing something right but Derek gets mostly As too with far less hastily. Aaron is just extra.

Derek steps up to the desk, doesn’t make a sound as he leans up against the side of the chair. He wraps an around Aaron’s shoulders, leans down to kiss his head. “It’s two,” Derek informs him, “come to bed. Please?” Derek’s exhausted. He feels the regret of being pulled from his warm bed. Each second feels like twenty minutes, the world sluggish and too cold. He leans closer to Aaron, wrapping himself around him. “You always smell so good,” Derek whispers. He presses his face into Aaron’s hair, catching the mix of scents.

“Bakery,” Aaron grunts. His answer as simple and concise as he always is but even more so now that he’s tired. Aaron had worked an on-campus job for the entirety of their freshman year but after he got a scholarship that would roll over each year after that (so long as he kept a certain GPA) he started at a bakery down the street from their apartment. Derek had always liked the way Aaron smelled, gently masculine in a way only Aaron could ever be, and it had mixed with the scents of softly, perfectly made baked goods he works around all day. Cookies and cakes. He’s picked up a few tricks, Aaron can make moist cakes and perfectly round cookies but his bread… It’s the best food Derek has ever eaten.

The first time Aaron made bread Derek got down on one knee and confessed “Aaron Hotchner if I could marry you I’d take you to the damn chapel right now”. To which he was lovingly pushed and told to “shut up” but fresh-baked bread (even if Aaron had taken a single bite and concluded he hadn’t ratioed the sugar right) is heavenly. He’s gotten much better since and it’s really hot when he’s standing there in one of his dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up taking his stress out on the dough.

And he can’t tell anyone. Can’t boast about his hot ass boyfriend or the bread he makes from scratch.

Derek crouches down by the chair, knows he’s winning when Aaron breaks from his work just enough to glance at him out of the corner of his eye. “Can’t this wait just a little bit?” he asks. “I want to sleep with my boyfriend and he’s out here writing an essay that isn’t due tomorrow and likely isn’t due for the next month.” Derek reaches up, strokes a strand of hair back behind Aaron’s ear. His fingers graze an open wound and Aaron flinches away, the pain unexpected.

The bare bones of Aaron Hotchner are the along the same in principle to Dereks-- all things that he cannot change. Even as he stands as tall as Derek, their bodies are not the same. Derek is lean from years of football, his arms stretch his shirts. He looks like an athlete, has the benefit of the doubt whenever he’s around men. His teammates walk naked in front of him, no one for even a second thinks anything of it. No one suspects him of the atrocities he commits within his apartment.

Aaron doesn’t have any of that. His hair is a little too long, hangs down in his face when he’s studying or reading. Nothing about him is hulk-ish, he’s delicate with his movements and while it had been something that Derek was immediately drawn to it also draws other’s attention. Bad attention.

The same boys that play around with Derek, snapping towels at him while he walks, terrorize Aaron.

Derek wishes there was something he could do because if this were anyone else- if Aaron were a girl- he could. It wouldn’t be dangerous, not the sort of thing that would cost him his football scholarship or get him stabbed and left to bleed out in an alley or beat within an inch of his life. He would have to out himself to protect Aaron, to stand in front of his teammates that coach keeps calling his family and tell them to keep their fucking hands off his boyfriend. No. No, because something like that would be death. It would be worse than what’s already happening. And Aaron won’t allow it.

All Derek can do now is await the next attack, leave Aaron someplace to come home to. Give him a place to be, without burden, without hesitation. It’s not enough. They’ll kill him. Derek knows they will and it’ll be fun for them, only a matter of time.

“Come to bed with me,” Derek asks one more time. He doesn’t want to sound entirely needy but he really doesn’t want to go to bed without Aaron. The bed is lonely.

With a sigh, Aaron nods and Derek stands up, moves out of the way so Aaron can throw pens in his textbooks to mark his place. He steps away, from the desks, yawning as he makes lazy lurches forward towards their bedroom. “Turn the damn--” Derek rolls his eyes and reaches over and turns off Aaron’s desk lamp.

He passes Aaron in the doorway, places his hand on his hip, and reminds him of their objective. “Bed,” he mumbles and Aaron nods, jerking back to life as he steps further into the bedroom.

Derek lays down on the bed, crawls over to his side, and gets comfortable while he watches Aaron lazily strip down to his underwear. He gets caught in his head again for a moment, standing there just blankly staring at the dresser. Trying to figure out if he should put on pajamas or not. Derek calls his name and opens his arms. “Come here, “ he says and Aaron smiles. Sheepishly he comes, blushing as he crawls into the bed and where Derek instructs him. Humming, pleased, when Derek brings the blankets up over them. His eyes are already closed, head tucked under Derek’s chin when Derek wraps his arms around him. Pulls him close, tight.

He’d read in a book about deep pressure, its effect on the parasympathetic nervous system. He’d studied Development Psychology for some time, thought about all the ways in which it checked every box of his interests. He thinks he might want to be a teacher. That’s where he learned about the importance of the bond between guardian and child. Where he learned a hug sometimes really is a fantastic answer to the most startling problems.

It’s also the fastest way to get Aaron to sleep.

“Tighter,” Aaron whispers. He can’t quite feel Derek’s bones pushing into him, the hammer of his heart still too strong. He groans, choking up a laugh when Derek does just that. Holds him tight, makes him ache with the proximity, his inability to move.

Derek doesn’t mind, he’s got an armful of bakery boy. Couldn’t be more content with anything else.

0000000000000000

All things considered, Derek didn’t actually face that much scrutiny when he told his mother about the stupid twisting and turning feeling in his stomach when Martel Harris put his hand on Derek’s back. Leaned in too close and Derek could smell the cologne he wore and feel his proximity like lightning across his skin. He’d thought it was just nerves but at the end of a football match Martel lifted him up, threw him up in the air, and God that had felt better than flying. Lit him up inside like he was something, someone.

Desiréecried and Sarah wouldn’t speak to him for a week, opposite reactions because of the same fear. Their mother always said the two of them were two halves of the same coin-- too alike to get along and too different to ever get away. They came around, their mother’s gentle hand always the voice of reason. Three stubborn as all hell kids, too much like their father. That’s what she tells the three of them, tears swelling in her eyes as she proclaims that none of it matters. Orders Desiréeto stop crying tells Sarah to get over herself. She loved and married a black man despite the death threats that followed them everywhere they went. Despite the people that called it blasphemous. Called it sin. As if love could be such a thing.

Her mother told her not to come home, not to call. She wouldn’t do that to her son, she knows it won’t change a thing. There’s something about love that makes you blind to the small pains. She never looked back twice, never reached out to her parents. She chose love and Derek will too.

But that doesn’t mean the fear goes away.

It doesn’t actually change a damn thing.

Standing in the tiny bathroom attached to Derek’s friend’s bedroom Aaron leans over the sink, letting Derek rub

shampoo through his beer-drenched hair. “I just don’t understand why they have it out for you,” Derek mumbles, his voice has deepened, his frustration laced confusion evident. They’re in a rather suggestive position, Derek’s body keeping Aaron bent over the sink-- ass to groin. Aaron shoots him a look out of the corner, a pretty clear “look at us right now and take a guess at why”. Derek ignores the look, he’s rather good at ignoring Aaron’s sharp looks. He shakes his head, grumbling some more to himself and gently working the shampoo out of Aaron’s hair. He leans closer, Aaron groaning as the sink bites into his stomach, and smells his hair. Derek groans, unsatisfied with what he finds. “Smells like strawberries with a slight undertone of beer.”

Sounds about as close to a win as they’re getting. “That’s as good as it’s going to get,” Aaron mumbles, grateful when Derek sits back up. While Aaron’s come to terms with the particular hand he’s drawn in the terms of college social lives Derek isn’t as quick to accept. He feels hopeless, a feeling he thought he’d escaped upon leaving Chicago and everything Carl Buford. Aaron can’t stand to see that look, the one he’s grown so used to seeing after events like this.

He pulls a towel down off the rack, starts trying to dry his hair. This isn’t the reason he keeps his hair short but it’s certainly a helpful addition to keep in mind. “Don’t overthink it, it’s not your fault.” Aaron could go blue in the face trying to keep Derek from coming up with a mile-long list of all the reasons why that’s simply not true. The truth is, it’s really not Derek’s fault. No one even knows about them. Their relationship isn’t the reason why Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is poured his cup of cheap, smells like piss, beer over Aaron’s head.

Not that what happened downstairs can just be so beautifully summed up as just that. Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is had grabbed Aaron as he was walking in, doing as Derek instructed by coming in the screened-in door at the side of the house. “Who’s dick did you come to suck?” and Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is cupped Aaron’s cheek. Dug his thumb into the wound he created and smiled, grinned happily at the sight of Aaron trying so hard to getaway. Hunter’s grip relaxed and as soon as it did Aaron was blinking the beer out of his eyes. “Get the fuck away from me,” Hunter shoved him, hard. “Faggot.” Aaron hit his hip on the counter but said nothing, he’ll leave the bruise for Derek to find another night.

“I should say something to that pig,” Derek’s distracting himself with putting everything back in the bathroom the way it was before they came in. Straightening out the rug and fixing the other towels. “Let me catch him trying something--”

Aaron can’t take it, all of Derek’s pointless anger, his stupid guilt. He’s just had beer poured down his back. He can’t even accept Derek’s sweatshirt to replace his smelly shirt, can’t walk out of here wearing his boyfriend’s sweatshirt without getting shanked. The beer smells awful but he’s fairly certain getting stabbed is a whole lot worse. Derek doesn’t have to deal with that. No one messes with him because no one thinks to. “It’s because of how I look!” He’s shaking, bangs hanging down in his face still damp but no longer dripping water down his face. “You? You look normal. You get to walk around with all your football buddies, no one bats an eye at the quarterback, Derek. At least you like women too!” He points to himself, digs his finger into his own chest. “Me? I look the part. I can’t even pretend. Everyone knew, the whole world knew before I did!”

Derek just stands there, caught in the headlights trying to figure out what to say.

He wipes his eyes, jerks away from the hand Derek tries to put on his arm. “No. No!” he can’t do touch right now. Not like this, not when his body won’t hold still and his knees keep trying to buckle. It happens, this panicked cornered feeling, and usually Derek would hold him down. They’d sit on the floor and Derek would hold his arms down to his chest and they’d just sit like that until Aaron can breathe again. Bones against bones until Aaron feels the fractures of his humanity coming back together but for now, right now? He can’t do it. He can’t be touched.

“I want to go home,” he manages, lower lip quivering despite how much he wants to hold it together. “Please take me home.”

Derek just stares at him, stands there, and watches Aaron cross his arms over his chest and curl in, trying to squeeze the panic out himself. “Okay,” he caves. “Go on, I’ll follow you down.” It’s degrading, humiliating the fact that they can’t even leave this room together. Aaron’s upset and Derek can’t do anything about that right now. It’s not safe until they’re home.

It’s never safe.

With his hair dripping into his face Aaron stumbles in the dark. His shirt is soaking wet, stuck to his skin, and freezing him as tramples down a thin stretch of grass between houses. He wishes he had Derek’s sweatshirt. Something warm. At least something to cover his arms. It had been a stupid idea coming here right after getting off work. The bakery is so impossibly hot and after getting off his shift all he wanted was to be with Derek. To sit in whatever little room Derek could guarantee was safe and drink whatever cheap crap Derek brings him from downstairs. Just sit and listen to the music filtering in from downstairs.

“Hotchner!”

He freezes-- a deadly mistake.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

He knows what happened to Derek. In the hush of the night, laying facing each other in the dark, Derek had told him. Each word a puff of hot air against Aaron’s face, hitting the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. It was supposed to be even, Derek’s intention was to express alikeness. He’d seen the scars, no matter careful Aaron was about the light when he thought things were headed in the direction of nakedness, Derek saw them. He hadn’t said anything that time, run his thumb over the one on Aaron’s chest but kept up his ministrations. Acted as if he didn’t until that moment in bed.

Aaron still hasn’t found the courage to be honest about his own childhood.

Derek comes around the back, half-expecting tonight to go like it always does. Except Aaron hasn’t had any alcohol and he doesn’t come stumbling around the porch to greet Derek from the darkness. There are no stolen kisses or hushed laughter. No Aaron. Derek has half a mind to shout out for him, he couldn’t have gone off far, but then he sees him. Derek sees them. The moonlight shining down casting this awful hue between the houses. He sees Hunter draw his foot back and he can’t hold it back. Won’t let this go on. “Hunter!”

The second that Hunter’s attention is away from him, Aaron slumps to the ground. His blood smeared against the house. He’s still breathing, awful ragged breathes that shoot blood off his lips. He sees Derek in the moonlight, rushing past him. Aaron wishes he wasn’t a coward. Between each blood speckled breathe, he wishes that he wasn’t a coward and had just told Derek. That way he would understand Aaron can take it. He spent his childhood taking beatings for just being alive. At least now it was something coherent. Being beaten for being gay requires at least knowing something about him. His father couldn’t even bother with that.

But Derek doesn’t understand.

Aaron never told him.

He’s pulled down, out of orbit, and back to Earth when Derek squats down beside him, cradles his head in his hands. “Aaron?” he calls out, but Aaron can’t force his eyes to move from the dirt. “Can I--” Derek doesn’t know where to put his hands. If he can put his hands anywhere. “I’m going to-- to lift you, okay?” It’s not a matter of if he’s strong enough. He benches more than his own body weight and that’s significantly more than Aaron’s. He’s just not sure if Aaron’s going to fight him and if Aaron fighting him is good or bad.

“Lean forward,” Derek whispers, cupping the back of Aaron’s head and directing it into his shoulder. He turns, manipulates both their bodies and winces each time, no matter how gentle and calculated his movements are, Aaron still cries out. He still hurts him. “I’m sorry,” becomes his mantra. The only words he can manage out around the tears, the only thing he can get past the thickness in his throat.

Sorry he didn’t stop this sooner.

Sorry that he keeps hurting Aaron.

Sorry they couldn’t be other people. In other places. In another time.

Sorry that it’s all for nothing, that there’s no way this ends well for either of them. They’re going to end up dead or alone but certainly separate.

The second Derek has him in his arms Aaron grips his shirt tightly in one blood-stained hand. He rests his head on Derek’s shoulder, soaking in his warmth. “Home?” he asks, voice breaking.

“We’re going home.”

Aaron wakes up alone in bed.

He’s completely naked, laying with three blankets pulled up over him. One that he recognizes is from the living room. There’s one of Derek’s homemade sock heating pads digging into his sore ribs where he rolled over onto it, he can feel more of them underneath him. He’s been laying here for a while. None of the socks are warm anymore. He’s on Derek’s side of the bed, facing his nightstand, and watches Derek’s blurry alarm clock change time. 1:36 passing to 1:37 to 1:38 just waiting for the fuzzy fingers in his brain to ease up. To allow him to think.

It’s Saturday.

Derek’s off at a football game, not due back for hours. Not until tonight, long after Aaron’s gone to bed.

For an overwhelming moment, his eyes fill with tears, desperation, and solitude creating an awful twist in his stomach. He doesn’t want to be alone. Protectively he draws his knees up, tries to knot himself up, and create a mangled ball. His heart picks up, anxiety increasing as he lays there. He wants Derek. He doesn’t want to be alone.

On the phone’s first rings he curls in tighter, overwhelmed by his own crying that he presses his face into Derek’s pillow and ignores it. He’ll let the machine catch it-- that’s the whole reason Derek bought it. With a sharp end, muffled by the blanket he pulls up over his head, a voice comes through. The machine catching the voice mail.

“Aaron, sweetheart? This is Fran, Derek’s mom? I’m sorry to keep calling sweetie but Derek’s awake now. He’s worried, says you should have woken up by now. I can send Sarah to come get you, Derek told me what happened last night. Please call me back? I hope you’re okay.”

He lays in confused silence, trying to process why Derek’s mother would call him. She calls all the time and occasionally he answers to tell her she’s just missed Derek-- he’s off with friends, at the gym, or at class. They know of one another Derek talks about him to Fran as much as Derek talks about Fran to him. But Fran call him? That’s never happened.

Then he catches it-- “Derek’s awake now”-- and he sits up. Pushed from his mind is the pain, his ribs scream and the blood he can see he’s left on Derek’s pillow. Derek’s awake now. Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is is on the football team. An offensive lineman. A guy whose entire job is to protect Derek but now he knows, he has to know.

Derek’s awake now.

He throws himself out of bed, clipping his already sore hip on the nightstand and staggering for the phone. Tears spilling over his face. What happened while he was sleeping? What did Hunter do?

Fran picks up on the first ring. “Aaron, is that you sweetheart?”

He sniffles, rubbing at his nose with his finger. “Yes, ma’am.” He knows she can hear him crying, his choked sobs as he falls in the direction of the closes chair.

“You had me worried sick,” she says and he can hear that unmistakable fondness in her chastising tone. That must be where Derek gets it from. It makes him smile, even if it’s weak. “How are you feeling, baby? Derek told me what happened. I’m sorry. If I see that boy I’ll wring his neck. Give him a piece of my mind for bothering my boys.”

He just nods, despite the fact that she can’t see that. He knows he should answer her question but he has no idea what he feels. Nothing. He feels nothing as he sits here holding his breath as he waits to ask about Derek. To know what happened because of him. “Is Derek okay? What happened?”

Hunter told a few other team members what he saw. Most brushed him off, Hunters a douchebag, and they like Derek. Others just hate Aaron enough for it to matter to them, enough to what to do something. Or, rather, not do anything. It only took one tackle, a limb bent the wrong way under the weight of three boys.

It was Derek’s knee. A career-ending injury.

A scholarship losing injury.

“Can I--” Aaron chokes. He’s afraid of what happens if Fran says no. “Can I see him?”

“Of course you can.”

Aaron turns away Fran’s offer of a car ride but Desirée still shows up.

He answers the door in a sweatshirt and jeans and knows immediately who it is when he opens it up. Desirée just stares at him for a moment, he can feel all of the seventeen-year-old judgment sizing him up. “You look… awful,” she tells him. She lets herself in, walking past Aaron with one more look. “Mom says I can drive but if you want to do it I have to let you.” She puts the car keys on the counter, sighs as she looks around. “Derek says…” she chews her lip, as she sizes him up again.

He wonders how intimidating he could possibly look to her. Hunched over and wearing a sweatshirt that’s too big for him.

“Would you teach me how to make bread?”

He can’t help but smile, nods without any hesitation.

“Really?”

Aaron nods, “it’s not that hard. More of a-- a waiting game. You have to give the yeast time to rise.”

Desirée has no idea what that means but she nods, “cool.”

He lets her drive. Mostly because his vision is swimming but because he tosses the keys back to her, a clear okay that she can drive, and she beams at him. She likes him. That’s so weirdly important to him.

She has to wake him up when they get to the hospital. The first thing she tells Fran is that he let her drive and Fran smiles at him, shakes her head, and says “you must have a death wish.”

Aaron blushes under the attention, eyes falling to the floor. He barely manages, “drives just like Derek.”

Fran laughs, nodding her head, “she does. Too heavy on the brakes.” Her smile fades a little when she sees Aaron’s sweatshirt, recognizes it from home. Knows it’s Dereks. “Will you let someone look at that,” she asks, too many of his wounds look deep. Cuts that need stitches and a nasty black eye that she knows he hasn’t iced. She’s reminded a little too quickly that Aaron and Derek are still very much kids. Tricky kids. Too old to be told what to do but still wanting direction.

Aaron nods, shying away again from the attention, but nods.

They leave him when the nurse steps in, doesn’t need to say a word. Fran sees him hesitate to lift his shirt and knows. Derek had managed to tell her most of what happened but the morphine made his speech slur, made him emotional. He’d sobbed, high and in pain. Told her what he’d seen the night before. Hunter hitting and kicking at Aaron, the way Aaron slumped forward. How he’d carried Aaron home. Washed the blood off him with a rag. She knew what was under Aaron’s shirt wasn’t something for them to see.

Derek wakes sometime in the middle of the night. The drugs from the surgery are wearing off and with it his blissful escape from the pain. Licking his dry lips he looks around the room, spotting his sisters and frowning as he tries to find his mother. She’s leaning over another cot, on the other side of the room. He watches her, hears the familiar chorus of Blackbird, and watches her stroke Aaron’s forehead, following the line of the relaxed brow.

It makes him smile, his mother used to sing Whitney Houston to him and his sisters to sleep. He told her about Aaron’s obsession with The Beatles, how of all the records the two of them own that’s the only one Aaron will play. Desiréebought the album, his mother told him a week later. She saved up to get it and was eager for her moment to speak to Aaron about it. To be able to befriend her brother’s boyfriend. That’s about the same time Fran began to hound him about bringing Aaron home, to Chicago. She wanted to meet him.

Fran kisses Aaron’s forehead, waiting another moment just to make sure Aaron’s truly asleep before she stands. “He was having a bad dream,” she tells Derek. In truth, he’d been crying in his sleep. In pain, she could tell, and restless. He’d settled with her there and it made her sad to think that maybe he’d just grown too used to sleeping beside someone else. She’d pulled his blankets closer and sang, just as she did with the other three when they were little. Even when they’re twenty, it still works like a charm.

Fran smiles, tries to soothe Derek’s nerves so he doesn’t worry about Aaron. He’s fine for now, sleeping soundlessly. She sits down on the edge of Derek’s bed, cups his cheek, and asks “how are you feeling?”

Derek just looks over to Aaron, his pale parted lips parted and the bandages holding him together. “Is he okay?” He’d been so scared last night watching Aaron sleep. No amount of Tylenol was doing a thing for his pain. Several times he’d sat up in the night and searched for a pulse, counted the far too many seconds separating each of his breathes. Derek thought Aaron might die right there beside him but he’d been more afraid of what might have happened if they went to the hospital.

Fran sighs, stupid love. It’s cute, she has to admit, but so senseless. “He’s sleeping, he’s okay.” She tries to redirect him, “how do you feel?”

Derek looks back over to Aaron. He looks. There’s more than just those pale lips and the bandages. It’s Aaron. He’s sleeping under multiples blankets and looks like himself. How he always looks when Derek rolls over to face him. He believes his mother, she never lies. “My leg hurts,” he whispers, voice cracking. It’s like the entire thing is pulsing, a continuous stabbing feeling. He cries but not from the pain. They betrayed him. The people he so stupidly thought of as his friends. They hurt him like they’d been hurting Aaron.

He should have known better.

He shouldn’t have been so stupid.

This is his fault.

“Derek?” Aaron sits up, hesitating under the combined attention of Derek and Fran.

Fran stands up, nods Aaron over. “Sit with him,” she offers. “I’ll go get a nurse.”

Aaron nods, still waiting, still hesitating to be where he wants to be. Derek motions him closer, manages to move his body over in the bed. Just enough room for Aaron to squeeze in beside him.

“I don’t think I”m supposed to--”

“Lay down.” Derek can see all the bruises and cuts up close again. He brushes his fingers through the hair above Aaron’s ear, turning his palm to his cheek. Gently tracing the outline of a bandage. “Runaway with me,” he whispers. He thought about it all night long while he watched Aaron sleep. “There’s only four more weeks left of the semester.” Aaron’s smart, he’ll get in anywhere he applies. “We’ll transfer someplace else, anywhere else.”

Aaron frowns, he doesn’t like the idea of this impulsivity. Mostly the number of uncertainties that it creates and the questions. Where will they go? How will they know it’s safe? Are they dropping out? Where will they transfer to? What Aaron can’t get into the college that Derek does?

“Hey,” Derek hushes, he strokes his thumb across Aaron’s cheekbone. “Hey, whatever you’re thinking stop. I’m not leaving, not going anywhere you don’t. We do this together, alright?” He smiles, leans forward, and softly knocks their foreheads together. “Four weeks and all of summer break, okay? That’s plenty of time for a smarty pants like you to figure out where we can go.” It had taken less time for Aaron to conclude Illinois was close enough to home for him to go if something happened to his mother but too far away for her or his brother to come to him.

They’ll figure it out.

“Runaway with me?” he asks one more time.

“Okay.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #mortch #hurt hotch #tw homophobia

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writing-fool · 4 years

Text

mlqc | like it’s a bad thing pt. 1

I think these are ‘fighting’ scenarios, but I’m not 100% sure at this point. It’s like a ‘relationship on the cliffs’ thing. Pt. 1 for Victor and Shaw because I noticed these were getting a tad long. And they kind of carry the same theme, I guess. Wanted to include Lucien, but I ended up not being able to finish his for now...so if I make the next part, he’ll probably be on there.

I’m still working on a hp!au for Victor, but that may take a while since the inspiration doesn’t seem to be arriving anytime soon. It’s all been a bit tough, sorry. I say this all the time, but I apologise for the lack of fics; my writing pace’s been slow.

As always, enjoy the read!

Love,

Warning(s): slight angst, profanity, mention of mature content.

Victor

You love Victor. You really do. But sometimes, just sometimes you wonder why you put up with this man and his bullshit. A great downside to being involved both romantically and professionally is that those types of relationships tend to bleed into one another. This could be in the form of an office quickie...or something a lot less fun.

On the outside, Victor may seem put together, but you know him well enough by now that this month has been incredibly stressful for him. But so has it been for you. Safe to say, it’s been tense, even at home. Victor’s constant nagging about work performance and his snide comments at your so-called slacking off have pushed you to the breaking point, and you’re really not going to sit there and take it today.

“Do you even understand what I’m saying? LFG can’t move forward with your company if you continue working at this inefficient pace. You, as the head of a company, should know how to improve the quality and efficiency of your work.”

You sigh, not taking your eyes off of the laptop in front of you as Victor exasperatedly throws another one of your proposals on the coffee table. “I get it. Just give me some time.” You rub your temples, getting back to your own work.

“Do you? It doesn’t seem like you get the point here. You. Do. Not. Have. Time,” he harshly points out.

“You know you’re able to manipulate time, right?” You raise an eyebrow and look up at his unamused face.

“I can’t favour you like this. Did you really think I was going to stop time to solve your inefficiency problem? You can’t rely on others all the time. A company that can’t pull itself up is use—”

Something in you snaps at that very moment. “I get it. We’re useless, inefficient, and we’re so lucky LFG is even willing to support this failing company. I’m a useless boss, I can’t do anything right, I’m leeching off of my rich, CEO boyfriend to get ahead, I fucked my way to the top, whatever. Tell me something I don’t know,” you snarl, slamming your laptop shut with a resounding snap.

“You know that’s not what I’m saying.” Victor’s glaring now, sharp, stormy eyes boring into yours.

“Oh, do I?” you mimic his words, narrowing your eyes, “Because you sure don’t seem to tell me otherwise. I can’t read minds, Victor, and all I hear from your mouth are insults telling me how incapable I am as a boss. So pray tell, how am I supposed to think I deserve my job when not only the entire business world, but also my own fucking boyfriend tells me I don’t?”

Victor’s clearly taking aback by your sudden outburst, but his need to get his point across in this argument seems to win over the instinct to lighten your mood at this very moment. “First of all, I don’t know why you care what others say—”

“Because I’m human! Maybe you don’t think of people calling you names anymore because they’re lost in the sea of people literally grovelling at your feet, but I’m not you,” you rub your temples again, voice lowering as the mental exhaustion kicks in.

“I don’t know if I can live like this anymore. Fuck Victor, you make me feel like a failure and you just don’t seem to care.” You push past his stunned form and head to the bedroom.

“Sleep in your office if all you care about is work.” You glance back at him for the last time before slamming the bedroom door shut.

Victor messed up. Royally. He didn’t mean to take his stress and anger out on you and he definitely didn’t mean to act like your boss at home.

He’s been trying to get back to work for the past two hours while giving you some space, but the lingering guilt and worry in the back of his mind prevent him from actually doing anything productive. What if you really meant it? What if this is it? He can’t lose you just because he acted like an idiot. Victor’s always assumed you knew he cherished you more than anything in the world...but maybe he’s been neglecting you as a partner.

With a steel resolve to make it right, Victor leaves his home office and walks to your shared bedroom. The light from the hallway streams in as he opens the door, illuminating your sleeping figure. You’re curled in on yourself in a protective, almost guarded way, something you never do (you’re usually the kind of sleeper that has their limbs flopping everywhere on the bed). Victor feels a sharp pang in his heart at the notion of seeing you look this broken...because of him.

Gently, as to not wake you, he shuffles to the dresser, carefully taking off his shirt and folding it over a chair. After sufficiently (un)dressing himself, he slides under the sheets.

Victor tentatively reaches a hand over to touch your arm, only to feel you turn away from his touch. Instead of pulling his hand back, Victor brings his hand around your waist, pulling you flush against his bare chest.

You’re awoken by the sudden movement, and in your sleepy state, you lean back into the warmth surrounding you.

Victor’s breath grazes your ear as he whispers. “I’m sorry.” Hm?

Your mind slowly registers that the warmth is, in fact, caused by Victor’s body heat, and more importantly, that you’re still very much upset with him. You struggle to get out of his grip, but that only seems to tighten the hold Victor has on you.

“Don’t. Stay with me,” he pleads, voice tinged with despair. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable before. You still your actions, instead opting to turn around to face Victor.

“I don’t know if this is what I want,” you speak up after a long moment of silence, “I love you, but I don’t want to be stuck in a relationship where I’m not welcomed.”

“Do you feel like you’re stuck here?” Victor asks.

You avoid his gaze. “I’m not sure. It’s not all your fault, but I do wonder whether you stopped caring about me sometimes. You’ve been so harsh to me, lately.”

“I didn’t, I never stopped caring,” Victor takes your hand in his left one, interlacing your fingers, “But I understand that I’ve made you feel insecure and uncared for. I never wanted to make you feel worthless, but I’ve gone too far this time, haven’t I?”

A mirthless chuckle escapes your mouth. “That’s an understatement,” you quip.

You expect Victor to retort back with something mean, revert to his distant self (at least, to the distant person he’s become this month), but instead, he gently cups your cheek with his right hand, raising your face up to look at him again.

A soft kiss is placed on your forehead. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be less harsh, and I’ll do anything it takes for you to forgive me. I’ll fix it all, your insecurities, your anxiousness. So give me one more chance, please. Let me fix it.” Victor’s beautiful grey eyes look into yours, sadness apparent on his face. You lie there for a long while, staring into his sombre eyes in silence.

“You’ll do anything?” you finally ask in curiosity. A resolute nod is your answer. “Even stop talking about work at home?” Victor nods again. You pause for a while, contemplating your next request. “...And take me to Souvenir and make me pudding every day?”

Victor snorts. “That’s the least I can do, dummy,” he chuckles lightly. Suddenly, his eyes widen. “I don’t mean you’re dumb. I just—”

Your soft giggle breaks his anxious ramble, and Victor feels like he’s just won the biggest prize at the lottery. “Just this is fine,” you whisper, “I thought it’d take longer for me to forgive you. But for some reason...I’m just happy to see your old self again.”

Victor sighs, pulling you closer. He presses his lips onto the crown of your head, inhaling deeply. “Dummy, don’t be so kind to me. I won’t know what to do,” he mumbles, relishing in the dark quiet of your bedroom. Truth is, he probably never knows what to do when it comes to you.

“You just have to love me, that’s all,” you pull your hand out of his, instead hooking your pinkies together, “No take-backsies.”

He rolls his eyes at your antics, a fond expression betraying the lack of annoyance behind the gesture. His pinky finger curls around yours ever so slightly, as if it’s desperate to hold onto yours. As if he’s desperate to hold onto you.

“No take-backsies.”

Shaw

“Not again,” you growl under your breath.

Shaw’s always been popular with the ladies, the gents, and the non-binary friends. Which is fine, it’s fine. You’re not a jealous person. You’ve dealt with people asking him out, people asking him if he was a celebrity and making you take pictures of him and some other person on a date, older ladies in your family groping him whenever you bring him to a family function (which really, isn’t about jealousy. You got mad, rightfully so, because they were harassing him). You can’t even remember how many times one of his campus students has confessed to him. With you right next to him at the table! Is it that unbelievable that I’m his significant other?

But too far is too far.

You walked into the fancy nightclub tonight, expecting to get a drink or two in your system, let loose with Shaw for a couple of hours, drag his drunk ass home and cuddle in bed. Not this.

The moment you walk in, you spot Shaw’s lavender coloured mop of hair sticking out over one of the booths. But he’s not alone, oh no. He’s surrounded by young men and women fawning over him like he’s some kind of celebrity or host club guest. And even though he looks a little bored, he’s not exactly bothered by the attention he’s getting. Because of course he isn’t. The moment his eyes land on you though, he looks you up and down appreciatively before shooting you a challenging smirk. He reaches over to a long-haired girl next to him, lazily fingering a lock of her hair. She looks up at him with a coy smile, but his amber eyes are fixed on yours, gauging your reaction. Oh, so he wants me to come over? Play the little jealous significant other? Hah! Not today, boy. I didn’t come here to play games.

You raise an eyebrow, a visibly annoyed expression showing on your face. Instead of heading in his direction, you strut to the bar, shoes tapping rhythmically on the floor. I look hot, I feel hot, and I need a fucking drink.

You order a bourbon on the rocks, gulping down a large sip of the beverage a soon as it gets to you. Bourbon is made to be savoured. You hear Victor’s voice resounding in your mind from the time he taught you how to judge alcohol for a production. So am I, but nobody’s been thinking of that, apparently. You turn around with a scowl, leaning against the bar. You feel horrible, and the fact that Shaw’s back to his childish antics isn’t making that any better. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips as you tilt your head back, closing your eyes. The flashing lights are blurry, but still noticeable through your closed eyelids. But what you don’t notice, is the man heading over to you from his side of the bar.

Shaw notices. How could he not? The moment you walked in the room, all he could see was you. And he knows he’s being a little shit, trying to make you jealous like that, but he can’t help wanting to play with you. It’s just a game of push and pull, and maybe he just wanted to see how hard you’d pull for him.

He didn’t expect you to react like that, though.

So here he is, so uncharacteristically walking (or strutting, because he is still sort of himself, after all) away from the admiring crowd of people around him and towards his clearly pissed off lover. And the man who’s clearly trying to chat you up.

“—buy you a drink?” he overhears. Shaw halts and watches the blinding spotlights in the club illuminate the sight in front of him.

He sees you lean closer to the man, foreheads almost touching in a conspiring way, before you shrug and the two of you turn to the bar. The man flags down the bartender, holding two fingers up. He’s just ordering two drinks for himself. That’s it.

His gait picks up again as he sees the bartender slide your favourite drink across the counter. Before you can even take a sip of bourbon, the textured glass is ripped out of your hand. Shaw downs the amber liquid, the burning sensation washing away the bitter taste of jealousy.

“Thanks for ordering me a drink, honey,” he emphasizes the pet name, grinning at you before turning his head to the man with a fierce glare. The man raises his hands in defense, shakes his head at you with a smile, and promptly heads back to the other side of the bar. Shaw turns to you, the grin slipping back on his face momentarily.

“Already cheating on me?” he asks, masking the slight hurt behind a teasing façade. Shaw plops down on the stool next to you, watching your face. You look slightly guilty at first, but then your expression morphs back into one of anger...and exhaustion. You aren’t actually cheating on me, are you?

“Funny thing for you to say,” you ground out.

“...So you were jealous.”

“That’s what you take from that?” You stare at him incredulously, his smug grin slowly sliding off of his face. I’m making it worse. Why did I make it worse?

“Jesus, you’re a prick,” you sigh, “No drink can fix this evening. I’m just going to go home. Do what you want, I don’t care anymore.” You climb out of your seat, making a beeline for the exit. Shaw is quick to follow you outside, grabbing your wrist before you can flag down a cab.

“Let me go, Shaw.”

“Hey, hey, it was a joke. You know that, right?” His ears are ringing from the loud music back in the club, but the sudden quiet’s more deafening than any song booming from the speakers. It feels sad, and Shaw hates it.

“I said, let me go.” You’re refusing to look at him. Why is it turning out like this?

“It was a joke. If I let go, you’re going to leave. Don’t leave me,” the slight pleading of his voice makes you turn around to look at his face. He tentatively releases your wrist, and you make no move to leave...yet.

“I don’t want to play these games anymore.”

He looks at you with furrowed brows. “I don’t understand,” he says.

“Is it fun, to try and make me jealous? To remind me of the fact that I’m somehow not suited for you, that after this amount of time, I’m still not enough for you?” you poke a finger into his lithe chest, “Because guess what, you succeeded. I’m jealous. I admit it, you won.”

“I didn’t—And you took that guy’s offer for a drink! You’re not better!” Shaw suddenly raises his voice, his stance akin to that of a wolf on guard.

“I told him I had a boyfriend! And you know why he bought me a drink? Because he said I looked like I needed a pick me up. And you didn’t even notice! Even worse, you’re the fucking reason I needed one in the first place!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know you were going to throw a hissy fit over me hanging out with some friends?” he spits out.

“Friends? They were hanging onto you, Shaw! One of those girls had her tits so close to you, she almost suffocated you with them. And you know it,” a humourless laugh escapes your lips, “You love the attention. And we both know I was never enough to provide that for you. So I quit.”

Shaw deflates. “What do you mean, you quit?”

“I don’t want to be vying for your affection with the rest of them, I guess. It’s selfish of me, but somehow I thought I’d be special, or something,” you scoff, kicking a nearby rock of the pavement, “But I don’t think I am. Not to you. So I think we should stop all of this before one of us gets even more hurt. I think we should break up.”

Shaw halts, burying both of his hands in his hair. His breathing quickens as he processes your words. “No, no, absolutely not. We aren’t breaking up.” he looks at you with the same pleading eyes he used that time when he got sick and begged you to cuddle him instead of getting his medicine. Back then, everything seemed so...lovely.

“I don’t know what else to do, Shaw,” your voice breaks, and Shaw feels his heart shatter at the notion of you hurting this much. “I just don’t know why you do this, I—”

“Because I don’t deserve you.”

“What?” You shake your head in confusion.

“I know it’s fucked up. Everyone around us knew that I wasn’t deserving of you. Just look at me,” he gestures at himself, “I’m a fucking gangster dating someone who deserves better. So I tried pushing you away, and then you pulled back, and you fought for me. And I just don’t know how to deal with that, ‘cause people don’t do that for me.”

You sigh. “You deserve to be fought for.”

“I don’t. I really fucking don’t. Because here I am, with the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m about to lose them. And it should be what I want because I keep pushing and pushing and pushing, but now the only thing I want is you. I fucked up.”

You lean against a nearby wall, silence hanging above you two before you break it. “I...don’t think this dynamic is healthy,” you start.

“I know, I’m sorry. I fucked up, but I promise I’ll—”

“And if we’re going to try this again, you’re going to have to fix your attitude,” you interrupt him.

“I—you’re serious?” a careful nod has Shaw’s expression turning from dumbfounded to ecstatic. His grin’s back, but now it seems more...genuine. More innocent.

“Fuck. I can’t believe it,” he tilts his head up to the sky in glee, but soon looks back at you with resolution in his eyes, “I’m going to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever seen.”

You laugh. “Is that a challenge, pretty boy?”

“You bet your ass it is,” he teases, swiftly scooping you up into his arms, “I fucking love you, and I’ll do anything I can to prove it,” he mutters into the crook of your neck.

“Shaw...I love you too, but people are really staring, actually.” You cast worried glances over his shoulder.

“Don’t care.”

“...Of course you don’t.”

Shaw’s scenario was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, to be fair. I think I made him pretty OOC, but I’m filling in a lot of the blanks in regards to his personality, and for some reason he has serious trauma and insecurities here, which is either kinda valid, or projecting. I don’t know if I’m satisfied with it...but it’s going I guess.

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc shaw #mlqc imagine #mr love #love and producer #victor li #shaw #mlqc scenarios #li zeyan #ling xiao #long live the queue

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Flower Song - c. 3 - JJ Maybank

Request: So Ik you said you’re not taking request but I had an idea for your creedance (?? I already forgot what it’s called sorry my memory is fucked) series where you’re babysitting your niece again and you ask JJ to help her change and everything after a bath and you walk into the room and hear him singing the flower song from Tangled :( I could just imagine him softly singing while she’s drowsy trying to fight sleep so that they can continue singing 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

A/N: I really just need to write fluff.

Creedence Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

You were on the phone with your sister, cleaning up the bathroom after Bea’s bath, throwing towels in the hamper to take to the laundromat tomorrow morning, while JJ put your niece to bed.

She was the only four year old that you knew who was capable of turning bath time into a mess, rubber duck toys and a Seasame Street submarine lay in the wreckage as you scrubbed some forgotten bubble bath out of the tub and promised your sister that everything was under control.

“Yeah, she’s been great. I’m gonna go put her to bed now.” You said, putting her toys in a basket and rearranging the bottles of wash and shampoo.

Your sister’s husband had a work trip to Hawaii for two weeks and your sister had jumped at the opportunity to go along, leaving you in charge of Bea and the house. It was less than ten minutes after your sister had pulled out of the driveway that JJ had ridden his dirt bike up, backpack on, with every intention of staying for the two weeks. Your sister and your brother-in-law liked to travel, usually without their daughter, and you were happy to have the house because it meant another place that JJ could crash. And because you couldn’t help the escape into your brain, playing some sort of convoluted pretend that you and JJ were together and this was your house and your kid. It was innocent, really.

“Are you listening?” Your sister stressed, voice an octave higher than necessary.

“Yes, what?”

“Miss Lana said she saw JJ around yesterday,” your sister said, ratting your neighbor out as a snitch, “no boys, remember?”

“He stopped by for like .2 seconds.” You lied.

“I don’t want guys in the house. This isn’t some excuse for you to have your boyfriend over.” She replied, trying for the sternness that your mom had at some point, long before you could remember. Neither of you really knew how to be parents, siblings, children. It was all just a part you played.

“No guys, I swear.”

“We’ll be home next Tuesday,” she promised.

Once she was off the phone you finished in the bathroom and headed down the hall to Bea’s room. You’d left JJ in charge of putting your niece to bed once the phone rang and you realized it was your sister. He’d taken the toddler down the hall, holding her in his arms when she complained that she was too cold to walk by herself.

JJ had taken her into her bedroom and set her on the bed, going to her dresser to pull out pajamas. “Alright your highness, which pair? Butterflies or...penguins?” He asked, holding the two oversized t-shirts up for her. She stood on the bed, wrapped in her frog towel, the hood up over her wet hair, lips pursed as she thought over her options.

“Butterflies!” She pointed to the one on the left and he stuffed the penguin shirt back in, making her laugh when the drawer wouldn’t close all the way.

“We don’t know who did that.” He teased, giving her clothes to dress in while he checked the shelf for a book. He knew the night routine better than her own dad. JJ had been helping you take care of Bea long enough that it was second nature.

“No books!” She announced, tossing her towel across the room with a flourish and flopping onto the bed.

“No books? What then?” He laughed, coming over to sit on the side of her bed. She sat against the pillows, her arms around the stuffed bear JJ had bought her for her birthday.

“Sing!” Bea decided, “the flower song!”

The three of you had watched Tangled three times in the last two days; it was her new favorite movie and she was slowly learning key words in the songs. JJ knew exactly what song she was talking about. “Alright but I’m warning you my voice is not up to Flynn Ryder level.”

“Flynn doesn’t sing that song.” She giggled.

“Right, well I’m no Rapunzel either,” he pointed out though he knew it wouldn’t keep him from singing if Bea asked.

He really did love being here, spending time with you and Bea gave him that sense of family that he’d never gotten to experience in his own home. He knew you were a lot like him, carving out places on the island where you could belong but none of them ever feeling quite like a home. This, the three of you together, was the most home he’d ever felt in one place. And he loved Bea but that wasn’t the reason he’d started volunteering to babysit with you. He was trying his hardest to show you that he was responsible, that he would be a good boyfriend, and hoping that maybe you would change your mind about being just friends. You didn’t know he felt that way about you, he’d never said anything, but after your slip two weeks ago he couldn’t help hoping that you saying you loved him meant you actually loved him.

You carried the full laundry basket down to the front door before heading back upstairs to check on Bea and JJ. Since your sister was gone, he had been staying in your room while you slept in your sister’s room to be closer to Bea in case, she needed you. Once you reached the top of the steps you could hear the familiar sound of JJ’s off-key voice and Bea’s half-singing/half-shouting to a song from Tangled. You stopped just outside the door, listening as JJ repeated the song over, biting your lip to stop yourself from making any noise. You could hear Bea starting to waver in her wakefulness and you backed up further toward the stairs.

“You can pretend to wash dishes all you want, I know you were listening to my incredible singing skills.” JJ teased, coming into the kitchen and pulling himself up onto the counter beside the sink.

“I wouldn’t call them incredible...I also wouldn’t call it singing.” You replied, jumping back when he flicked water at you. “JJ!”

“Don’t be mean to me. I single-handedly put Bea to bed...that’s some record shit right there.”

“Yes it was, I’m in awe of your child rearing abilities Jay. I can only hope to be as good with kids as you someday.” You said, rolling your eyes at him.

“I’ll teach you my ways. For a price.” He added as an afterthought.

“A price? What kind of price?” You asked, “ice cream allowance?”

“A date.”

You paused, water pouring over your hands and the plate you were halfway done scrubbing dinner off of, heart pounding in your chest at his suggestion. You tried to calm yourself down, remind yourself that it was all probably a joke on his part. Just JJ being funny. “A date?” You couldn’t help asking though.

“Yeah. You, me, Bea can even come, a movie, maybe dinner. Possibly just some netflix and chill.” He replied, “A date.”

“Are you shitting me right now Jay?”

“No, I’m dead serious. I wanna go on a date with you.” He said, “so lets go.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” JJ slipped off the counter and leaned over, kissing your cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning. We can talk day and time.”

“See you in the morning.”

You watched him walk to your bedroom and close the door behind him, fighting the urge to let out some embarrassing version of a squeal once he had disappeared, knowing that he would definitely hear you. Part of you didn’t care though, he had asked you on a date, something you had been imagining for so long now that you still had trouble believing the conversation you’d just had actually happened.

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife @freckled-and-daydreaming @chasefreakinstokes@millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox@belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla@vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh@gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot@stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla@bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie@mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes@wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @balletandyuzu @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn@pcterparxer @literarycharleton @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses@activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom@talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @jolomez @timotaychalabae

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madamewriterofwrongs · 4 years

Note

oooh for the i love you prompts can you do buddie + 12 ?

So sorry this is late, love <3 This was...well, I hope you like it.

I Love You Prompt List

12. Brings an extra coat/scarf because they know you never check the temperature before going out

When We’re Old and Grey

Admittedly, their morning routine had already been a little disrupted when it came time to kiss his boyfriend goodbye. A power outage had killed their alarm, and Christopher had to wake them up with his most innocent ‘If we sleep past the first bell, do I have to go to school today?’; which had both of them bolting out of bed with the speed that came from years of emergency responses.

There was no time for breakfast – thank god for the ability to preorder drive thru (one day of egg sandwiches and apple juice eaten in the car, would not be the end of the world. Probably) – let alone double check that Christopher had actually packed his bag last night like he promised.

“It’s your fault we didn’t get to bed until 3am.” Eddie grumbled, shoving off the pants around his ankles so he could toss them to their rightful owner.

“I think it’s the apartment fire’s fault.” Buck caught the offending cotton, and pulled Eddie’s shirt from the pile on the floor to throw in his face. “We can go back to sleep once Christopher’s at school” he promised.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You wanted to go for a run today. So we’re going for a run after we drop him off.”

If Buck’s grumble made him smile, it was a testament to their years of familiarity – not because he thought his boyfriend was cute when he was grumpy and bedraggled. Not that they were given much of an opportunity to comment further, as the object of their affection was calling down the hallway that he would be late for school.

Eddie pulled the nearest pants over his hips (definitely still Buck’s, but now was not the time for caring about things like property) pushing his sock-less partner out the door.

“You don’t need socks to sit in the passenger seat” he informed him, poking his head into his son’s room to do one final check before they headed towards the door.

“Alright everyone, did we pack our homework?” Eddie clapped his hands while Christopher pulled on his shoes.

“Yes, dad.”

“Did we brush our teeth?”

“Yes, dad.”

“No.” Buck swiped his tongue with a grumble, but a look from Eddie had him ducking his head.

“Did we remember our free reading book on the night stand?”

Christopher bolted up in a panic, steadied by an instinctual hand from Buck. Eddie shook his head at the pair, producing the book from behind his back for the boy to put into his bag.

“Did we pack a sweater for going to Abuela’s tonight?”

“Yes, dad.”

With Christopher packed and ready to go, Eddie shot one last look at his boyfriend as he slipped on his sandals.

“Did we remember our wallet and phone on the dresser?”

“Yes, dad.”

Buck froze. The only way his eyes could grow wider would be if they fell out of their sockets – and they nearly did, for the panic that settled on his face. Though Christopher was still preoccupied with zipping his bag, he clearly heard Buck’s misstep because he giggled wildly while opening the front door. Eddie still hadn’t said anything (which, even Eddie knew, was a bad sign).

His initial reaction at Buck’s words was to tangle the squeezing hand around his heart that reminded him that he was old, and demeaning his boyfriend and eventually, Buck would get sick of him. His second reaction was to laugh at the man’s exhausted mind that had just parroted whatever Christopher was saying. His third reaction, was the startling realization that none of this mattered at the moment.

With a long sigh, Eddie shooed his two favourite people out the door and unlocked the truck for them while he closed up.

He could deal with their little slipup later – when he actually had the mental capacity to process what had happened and how he felt about it.

See, Eddie knew he was older than Buck (some would say more mature – including Eddie), though five years wasn’t a significant difference. They’d learned quickly to intensely avoid talking about significant moments in their childhood, but other than that, age didn’t matter to them. Considering Buck’s last serious relationship... well, Eddie had never put much thought into their slight difference in age.

Until Buck had decided to call him ‘dad’. And then a few thoughts swirled around his mind as they made their way towards the school. He knew that the moment Christopher was out the door, Buck would bring it up – trying to apologize profusely – and Eddie would have to decide how to react to it.

He had a big decision to make.

True to form, Buck waved the kid goodbye and as soon as they’d pulled out of the parking lot, he turned to his boyfriend with nervous panic.

“Eddie, about this morning: I am so sorry.”

His boyfriend looked so genuinely apologetic, he almost felt bad.

“What was that, sonny?” He croaked, leaning his ear closer to the man. “I didn’t hear yo-” Eddie dissolved into laughter before he could even finish his sentence, doubling over the steering wheel in amusement.

Buck joined in a moment later, though decidedly less enthusiastically. “Okay, okay, I get it. I called you old.” He slid his had over Eddie’s, resting on the gearshift. “I am sorry though.”

“It’s fine, Buck.” He smiled at him once they reached the stoplight. “I know I kind of went into ‘dad mode’ this morning. It was a slip of the tongue.”

“I’ll show you a slip of the tongue” Buck muttered – though loud enough for Eddie to hear (as was always his way when he was flirting), prompting a flush to cover his chest even as he rolled his eyes.

“I am driving young man,” he scolded, a twinkle in his eye. “Just wait until I get you home.”

Buck finally relaxed against his seat, never looking away from his adoring boyfriend. “I thought we were going for a run.”

“Oh, I’ll get your heart racing alright.”

What? Eddie loved a little obviously flirting as much as the next man – especially when they were both still in that giddy phase of their relationship after living together for seven months. Besides, it would be an excellent opportunity to show Buck just how young and enthusiastic he still was.

And that should have been the end of it. The two of them would go home for a little mid-morning romp (‘romp, Eddie? Now you’re just begging me to mock you’) before heading out on their run and continuing on in semi-domestic bliss – one of them was bound to propose sooner or later, they just hadn’t decided who. Buck’s little one-off remark would be totally forgotten.

Until Eddie lay in bed a few nights later, and he got a horrible, ridiculous, completely juvenile idea. Buck would be so proud of him.

It started out innocently enough.

Buck ran out of toothpaste – he really should have been paying attention more – but he definitely had a spare bottle underneath the sink. Probably. He squatted down to inspect the shared storage space and did, indeed, find a small travel tube of toothpaste.

That didn’t matter, however, because he found something much more interesting.

“Eddie, why is there a box of grey coverup hair dye under the sink?” He had a sneaking suspicion, but he also had no recollection of Eddie mentioning or buying it.

There was his boyfriend – his lovely, oblivious boyfriend – sitting on the couch, reading the latest science fiction novel that Buck had finally convinced him to read, all wide-eyed and curious.

“I have no idea why anyone in this house would need to cover up their grey hairs, Buck.”

Really? So he was just going to pretend as if he didn’t know anything? Fine.

“Is it Christopher’s, then? I knew that kid’s colour wasn’t natural.” He shook his head when he caught sight of the smallest hint of a smile. But then, he paused to watch Eddie refocus on the book in his hands. Maybe he was starting to go a little grey on top; his life hadn’t exactly been stress-free. It could be that he just wasn’t ready to talk about it, though. That was fine. He’d love Eddie if his hair fell out overnight. It would be a huge adjustment, considering how much he liked to run his fingers through those delicious locks, but he’d figure it out. If his boyfriend was feeling insecure about something, there really was only one solution.

Eddie lifted the book when Buck plopped into his lap but didn’t take his eyes off the page, letting him scratch his nails through Eddie’s scalp. He really was so giving; anything Buck wanted to do to him (cuddle, or talk for hours about his latest interest, or just sit in his lap in the middle of the day), Eddie would accept within reason. Just as Buck did the same (holding Eddie in the middle of the night, listening to him rant about one of the PTA moms harassing him, or carrying him across the room when Eddie decided he wanted to cling to him like a koala bear instead of walk his tired-ass to the bedroom). It was a mutual bothering, which worked for both of them.

Which is why Eddie let Buck sit in his lap and massage his scalp for a minute or two before Buck mutter soft and low: “I kind of like the bits of grey, it makes you look distinguished.”

“What bits of grey?” Eddie shot up so fast, Buck nearly toppled off the couch but he caught himself on the back cushion. Just as quickly, Eddie settled back into his place, taking a deep breath. “Oh, right. Yeah. Thanks.” When he blushed, Buck had no choice but to kiss it away. It was mandatory.

Buck was ashamed to admit that he didn’t notice it at first. He spent so long memorizing ever feature on Eddie’s face and it took him nearly an hour to realize that something was different. And then when he realized, he couldn’t stop realizing and frankly, it was kind of hot.

He only wore them when they were in the bedroom – likely a little hesitant to admit that he needed them, but Buck liked to think of it as a secret he chose to share with Buck because of how much he trusted him. It was nice.

And did he mention hot?

It took him less than a week to finally break (what? He was only human).

Buck stopped in the doorway, glass of water gripped tightly in his hand lest he drop it at the mere sight of his boyfriend. Eddie never looked up from his book – and why should he? Tonight was just like any other night.

Except this was the fifth night in a row that Buck had walked into their bedroom and found Eddie, shirtless in bed with a pair of black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

How was he not supposed to pounce on that?

Pounce wasn’t the right word, exactly, more of a slither. Buck was about as graceful as Bambi on Ice, but when it came to slowly crossing a room to climb on top of his boyfriend, he was Johnny Weir (yes, he knew about figure skating – Bobby’s reveal had prompted a little research spiral).

“Hello.” Eddie smiled in surprise, dropping the book to his chest so his arms were free to stroke up Buck’s arms. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Without losing eye contact, Buck gently tucked the bookmark into the appropriate page and placed the book on the nightstand, out of harm’s way. No matter what, there was a great respect for books in their house (plus, if Buck tossed the thing across the room like he wanted to, Eddie’s mind wouldn’t be focused on the task at hand).

“I think you can help me” he whispered without a hint of suspense. Eddie knew exactly what he wanted.

He reached for the glasses, no doubt thinking they would get in the way, but Buck grabbed his wrist before he could even get close.

“Leave the glasses on.”

Eddie mumbled in surprise but didn’t deny his request, reaching for the lamp as Buck dove in for a kiss.

Okay, even if it was a little strange, it was still a really thoughtful gift.

Buck hated admitting when he was in pain. Yes, he’d learned his lesson after the whole ‘pulmonary embolism’ fiasco and was starting to speak up whenever things got too bad (especially with his leg); that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

So, taking Bobby aside to tell him that his leg was cramping so badly, he thought it best to be ‘man behind’ for the rest of the shift, made him nearly cry with frustration. But he did it; and he spent the rest of the shift doing choirs, and icing his leg and generally doing what was best for his overall health.

The problem was, his leg almost always hurt just a little. Yes, he was back to full strength – and fitter than ever, thank you very much – but sometimes, he’d wake up in the middle of the night and need to walk a few laps around the living room before he could settle back into bed. Or, Eddie would catch him limping a little and a tub of Tiger Balm would suspiciously find its way into his work bag.

One day, he came home and found a cane next to the door. It was simple, brown with a curled handle, but it was the perfect height to help him walk around the house. Even if every iota of his being was screaming that using a cane was a sign of weakness, he saw the gift from Eddie as a show of love and concern, and so used it as an aide while he moved around the kitchen, waiting for Eddie to come home with Christopher.

That little boy was the most adorable mix of excited and concerned when he walked through the door and saw what Buck was doing.

“You remember when my leg got hurt? Well sometimes, it hurts again and it’s hard to move around without a little help. My cane is not nearly as cool as your crutches, though; it doesn’t even have an arm holder.”

The discussion had been a little longer, but the explanation seemed to satisfy him enough to drop the subject while he started on his homework.

Eddie had been suspiciously silent. Not suspicious, per se, but he hadn’t looked Buck in the eye through his entire interaction with Christopher.

As soon as the boy was seated at the dinner table, Buck pulled him in for a gentle kiss.

“Thank you” he pressed into his mouth again, gratefully. “I didn’t realize I needed this until you gave it to me. I appreciate you taking care of me.”

Eddie still hadn’t said a word, his eyes darting to the cane every few seconds as if deciding whether or not it actually existed. When he spoke, his voice was far away.

“I didn’t” he cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

Satisfied, Buck turned away in time to hear Eddie mutter “unbelievable” under his breath.

“Eddie, and I don’t want to offend you, but” Buck carefully entered the bedroom at the end of their nighttime routine. “Are your teeth real?”

Eddie should have looked more offended (Eddie, with his sexy librarian glasses and no shirt because ‘it’s too damn hot for clothing’) but instead, he tried to brush it off.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Because I found denture cream in place of toothpaste.” He held up the small yellow tube as evidence. “Did you misread the label or something?”

Again, Eddie simply shrugged rather than engage in their conversation. “Nope.”

What did that mean? He’d meant to buy denture cream? Buck rolled the bottle in his hands, standing lost in the middle of the room – another thing for which Eddie usually teased him, but still nothing. Something had been going on with him lately. First the hair dye, and then the reading glasses, and now the denture cream…it was like he was preparing for old age or something.

Oh.

Maybe Eddie had taken to heart the little joke Buck had made about him getting old. He hadn’t even called him old, he’d called him ‘dad’ – he was a dad – but then Eddie had followed up with his little ‘old geezer’ routine. Could it be, that Buck had actually hurt his feels or sent him down some spiral? It wouldn’t be the first time (they still had the small collection of Beanie Babies in the hall closet from the time Eddie got drunkenly nostalgic), but this time he wondered if he could do something to help (instead of drunkenly encouraging him to get same-day shipping).

“Eddie” Buck cautiously approached the bed, tube still in hand. “Are you okay?”

The man looked up at him through his glasses as Buck took a seat beside him, staring at him with genuine confusion – not the façade he’d been putting on lately. “I’m fine, Buck” he promised. “What’s up?”

“Did I mess up when I called you ‘dad’ the other day?”

Even when he was taking his glasses off slowly, with concern and love in his eyes, Buck had a hard time not feeling attracted to his boyfriend. The way he cared…it was a lot.

“You didn’t mess up; I thought it as funny. What’s this about?”

Reluctantly, Buck revealed the tube still clutched in his fist as if that would explain everything. The way Eddie threw his head back in laughter, eventually flopping onto his pillow, told him that it must have.

“You ruin all my fun, you know that?”

Well that was…not what he was expecting Eddie to say.

“All I wanted was a little laugh at your expense and you have been nothing but sweet and supportive” he grumbled against the pillow. “It’s been very annoying, you know that?”

Ignoring the bit of hurt that rose in his chest, Buck pulled apart Eddie’s words, trying to decipher some semblance of meaning from them. The more he stared in confusion and horror, the more Eddie seemed to laugh in his face.

Before he could think to pout and beg for an explanation, Eddie reached out to grab his face and pull him down to his level. Buck just barely caught himself on the edge of the bed as Eddie muttered fondly “you are a good man, Evan Buckley, but you can be so…” don’t say dumb, please don’t say dumb “innocent, sometimes.”

It was Buck’s turn to fall forward with the force of his incredulous laughter, trapping Eddie between himself and the bunched up pillows, leaving the tube of denture cream lost to the chaos of their floor. Even as the laughter subsided, Buck rested his chin against his boyfriend’s chest as he spoke.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, arms resting under his head like he had nowhere he’d rather be in that moment. “I thought I was being so clever hiding everything around the house. First the hair dye – I thought it might be a little subtle but you were so nice about reassuring me. And then the reading glasses…” he smirked at the memory of the last time he’d worn them. “That was an unexpected bonus. And then the cane”

“What about the cane?”

His expression softened. “It was meant as a joke but you seemed to really need it so I wasn’t about to take it away from you.”

Buck recoiled but didn’t leave his favourite position, curled on top of his – very perplexing – boyfriend. “You were making fun of me by giving me that cane?” It had never occurred to him that it would be anything more than a well-meaning gift; but Eddie had been mocking him? That didn’t make any sense.

“No!” Eddie sighed. “The cane was for me.”

He was up and straddling Eddie’s knees before he’d even finished his sentence, carefully inspecting every inch of the man he loved for signs of trauma. “What? Why? What happened? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“See, this is what I mean; you’re so nice, I can’t pull a prank on you” Eddie exclaimed, rising to his elbows.

Wait, what?

Buck slowly turned to meet Eddie’s eyes – playful and patient. “A prank?”

“A prank” he confirmed with a smile.

“What was the prank?”

Eddie snorted, eyes falling to the floor. “Grey hair remover, reading glasses, a cane, and denture cream – plus I got, like, four other things.”

He left Buck to connect the dots, which produced a groan from the man, falling back over top. “You weren’t mad about me calling you old, you were being a dick about it” he concluded.

“Not a dick” Eddie protested, “a well-crafted prank that apparently flew over your head.”

“Well what now? Do you want the cane back?” He’d been an idiot, just picking up the thing and assuming it was for him. It seemed like something Eddie would do – and maybe he would have if his mind weren’t on other matters – but Buck should have asked. Idiot.

“I meant it: if it helps you, it’s yours to keep. The rest of it, though…” Eddie’s eyes wandered back to the tube on the floor. “I have no idea what to do with it all now that the prank is sufficiently ruined.”

“It’s not my fault that you were too subtle.” Buck squawked when Eddie threw him to his own side of the bed.

Standing, the man looked over his shoulder on his way to the bedroom closet. “Not all of us can be as subtle as ‘Eddie, if someone you were friends with wanted to ask you out, what would you say?’”

Admittedly, not his most sophisticated moment. “It worked, didn’t?” Over a year later and they were happier than ever.

“True.” Eddie retrieved a plastic grocery bag from the back of the closet, returning to sit on the bed. “But that might be more an indictment on my weakness for puppies.”

In response, Buck licked up the side of his jaw, planting a kiss behind his ear as he snuggled in close for show and tell.

“Gross” Eddie half-heartedly batted him away. “Want to see what I had planned next?”

“Yes please.” Buck bounced beside him, surreptitiously peaking over his shoulder to look into the bag. The very first item had him snorting and ducking under Eddie’s shoulder blade.

“Aren’t Medical Alert Buttons, super expensive?”

Eddie showed off the bright red plastic attached to a black string, hanging it off his finger. “Not the discount one from Wal-Mart. It’s not registered or anything – I wouldn’t go that far. Probably.”

Buck caught the object when Eddie tossed it to him, shaking his head. “I probably would have taken it as a joke about how many times I get injured.”

“It can have multiple uses” he conceded, already looking into the bag for the next gift. “We can keep that one if you want.”

“I’ll think about it.” Buck had no intention of using it, but it might be a cute little thing to hang on his jeep mirror as a reminder of the man he loved. He really did love Eddie. Who else would go through all this for a stupid prank and kiss him when he missed the joke? He imagined smiling fondly at the red button on his way to work during those rare shifts they wouldn’t spend together. He tucked it under his pillow for safe keeping.

“This one was kind of a two-fold.”

Buck stared down at the square packaging in his hands. “A deck of cards isn’t exactly an ‘elderly’ thing.”

“But Bridge with my Abuela and her card shark friends is definitely a thing. I was going to drag you out on a Saturday to hang out with friends and make you sit and watch us play.”

He rolled his eyes. “Jokes on you, then, because I love playing Bridge.”

Eddie raised a dubious eyebrow. “Since when?”

“Since my grandmother taught me to play when I was eight.” He didn’t add that the only reason she had time to teach him was because he spent every weeknight at her house from age 6-15 while his parents worked or otherwise went out. The second he got his license, he got out of that routine; but there were still some fond memories attached to Nana’s house. “I would have kicked your ass.”

“Now we may never know.” Eddie grabbed the deck out of his hand and shoved it in the bedside drawer. “The last one would hopefully have been obvious.”

Buck nearly woke Christopher with his laughter – silenced quickly by Eddie throwing a pillow in his face – as he held the bag of adult diapers.

He loved Eddie so damn much, it hurt to breathe (although the wheezing laughter couldn’t have been helping his cause much). Once he was confident enough to remove the pillow, he examined the product with tears in his eyes.

“You got the overnight protection, that’s very astute. I might have eventually clued in that something was wrong.” He tossed the bag back to Eddie who was smiling at him with an odd look of pride. “This is a lot of effort for a one-off comment, Eddie.”

The man shrugged, reaching down to put the denture cream and diapers back into the bag to take to the donation bin later. “I don’t think it was.”

“What was the last one?” he asked, a lightness filling his voice from the sheer giddiness of being together.

In lieu of an answer, Eddie blushed and looked away. “Nothing.” That definitely meant it was something, Buck decided. There really was only one way to get Eddie to talk when he didn’t want to. Long, calloused fingers found his ribs and danced over his skin, leaving him curled over top of Buck, squirming and laughing. The day he’d discovered that Eddie was ticklish was probably one of the best days of his entire life. It meant he now how a surefire way to get his boyfriend to laugh whenever he wanted. It was a power he used sparingly, but he loved having a switch to turn on his favourite sound at will.

“Alright, stop, stop, I’ll tell you.”

Even as Buck released him, Eddie didn’t move from his place against Buck’s stomach, both breathing heavily and smiling at each other, wide and bright. The air grew still between them as Eddie regained his senses, the grin falling from his face – though his eyes were still warm and loving.

“I booked us a tour” he whispered his confession.

“A tour for where?” As funny as it would have been, they couldn’t exactly try to take advantage of a senior’s discount anywhere.

Eddie licked his lips, his earnest heart pulling the last of the humor away. “At a retirement village.”

The realization came a moment later. “You wanted to look at a retirement home together?” Saying the words out loud felt strange on his tongue. Stringing those syllables together in that order was not a possibility he ever thought to consider for himself.

Suddenly it was all he wanted.

“It was for the prank” Eddie gave a half-hearted shrug, still not releasing his breath entirely. “But I figured we could put our name on the waiting list if we liked it anyways.”

Buck joined him in his breathlessness, unable to think beyond the buzzing in his ears screaming ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ The world around him seemed fuzzy but Eddie’s face was crystal clear in his eyes.

“You’re planning your retirement with me?” Knowing them, that time wouldn’t come for another forty or fifty years, and yet Eddie wanted to put their names on a waiting list together. Like they were a sure thing.

“I did it as a joke” Eddie mumbled his concession, breath warming his skin. Buck watched his muscles dance underneath him, shivering with hope and excitement. “but it felt right to write down Mr. and Mr. Diaz.”

“I love you.” Those were the only words Buck could think to express every emotion in his being. There was too much at once to process and it swirled through his body, igniting every nerve ending on its way down to his toes. His mouth opened of its own accord and completely ran away from him. “I’ll love you when we’re old a grey, and you need all of those things you spent too much money on.” Eddie opened his mouth to protest but he continued. “I’ll love you when we fight – and when we think it’s the end for us, I’ll keep loving you. I want to hold your hand and die peacefully in our sleep in a retirement home we picked out when we were in our thirties. I want all of that, Eddie.”

He hadn’t thought seriously about marriage but the second it left his mouth…Eddie was right.

It just felt right.

The scariest request he’d ever made, didn’t seem so terrifying when he was staring down at the man he wanted to spend his life with, who kissed his stomach and smiled up at him with shining eyes.

“Our appointment is next Sunday.”

It was as close to an acceptance as they could muster in the moment, but the least he could do was pull Eddie up to kiss him properly. Buck released him for just a moment, smiling up at his fiancé to whisper:

“Good prank.”

Before diving in for another kiss.

#cj writes things #cj answers things #love allie #maysgrant #prompt fill #buddie #buddie fic #911 fox #911 fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #soft eddie diaz #soft evan buckley #proposal #prank #fluff #nonsense #chaos #idiots in love

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ayellowcurtain · 3 years

Text

Like trouble water running cold

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4

Ismail is tired but unable to fall back asleep, too worried. He keeps thinking about the mess they made. They’re usually too dumb so it’s not natural that it comes to them before anything that they should be using protection.

Constantin was the first person Ismail ever had sex with years ago, so it’s normal that he doesn’t remember to grab a condom or two when they’re kissing, making out, dragging each other to the nearest bed. Constantin is family, his best friend, and the person who knows him best. Ismail would trust him blindly with his life if needed. And last night he didn’t make the conscious decision to grab condoms because of it.

It was amazing, the best sex they ever had but Ismail can’t stop thinking about the lack of condoms. His brain is now foggy from his tiredness and sore muscles, not able to provide him with visual proofs if they were as careful as they could be while not using protection.

He feels like crying, calling himself the worst names he can think of inside his head. Constantin is still sleeping, hugging the pillow underneath him, and Ismail is angry, pissed at them but he still manages to find Constantin so fucking attractive while sleeping. He wants to crawl on top of him and lie down, fall back asleep while trying to sync his and Constantin’s breathing rhythm without worrying about what can be happening inside his body.

He doesn’t have the time to lie down and relax. Constantin slowly moves himself to lie on his back, Ismail can see his long legs shaking while stretching underneath the sheets, one of his arms is covering his eyes until he gets used to the brightness of the morning, and it slips back to the top of his head once his eyes are settled with the natural light coming from the open windows at the top of the walls, letting them finally see each other.

“Someone is awake early…”

Ismail grabs as much of the sheet as he can and squeezes it tight. The raspy voice is not helpful.

“We fucked up last night.”

Constantin sighs, still waking up ever so slowly, raising his eyebrows like this a funny joke or just what they really did last night.

“I mean it! We didn’t use condoms.”

By the way that Constantin looks at him and carefully sits on the bed, suddenly very awake, Ismail guesses Constantin can feel how worried he is by the way that he sounds and looks.

“I know...I’m sorry. I didn’t think you wanted to use it, but I should have asked.”

“Yes, you should!” Ismail gets even more scared now that Constantin is also worried, apologizing for not using protection when Ismail wasn’t even completely sure that there was no condoms. He bends his legs and puts his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands. This can’t be happening!

“Is…” Constantin sits closer, one leg under the tunnel that Ismail’s legs make, his arms on his back, rubbing it gently up and down, kissing his temple, “It’s not that serious. We don’t go fucking everyone we meet.”

Ismail slams his hand against the mattress, looking at Constantin, his arousal quickly being replaced by frustration because Constantin doesn’t seem to get it.

“Constantin! You basically fuck anyone that has a hole in them.”

Constantin lets him go, pushing himself back to create a small distance between them, “That’s not true! Making out doesn’t necessarily mean sex.”

Ismail doesn’t know what else to say, he doesn’t want to argue what is sex and what’s not. So he gets up, finding all their clothes still on the floor and he grabs everything his arms can hold at once, making a pile at the door so he can take it to wash once he’s put some clothes on and when they take the sheets off to wash them too.

Constantin is standing on his way when he comes back, the sheets around his waist, one hand holding it by his side. Ismail sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Put some clothes on, and let’s go.”

“Huh?” Constantin walks weirdly trying not to step on the sheets while he opens the drawers on his dresser, throwing a clean shirt and underwear on his bed so he can put them on, grabbing one of his pants behind the door where there’s an open closet for his pants and jackets.

Now everything is a little mixed with Ismail’s things but you can clearly tell what is whose, Constantin is mostly black and white and Ismail is the complete opposite. They don’t bother organizing sides to each closet because they’ll end up sharing clothes anyway.

“We’re gonna get tested. So you’ll stop complaining about it and hating me for it.”

Ismail stops, thinking about both of them staring at a nurse or doctor that probably had too many hours of work to be nice to stupid teenagers needing to check if they’re clean after being dumb and reckless during sex.

But they don’t have another option.

Constantin is pissed at him and Ismail doesn’t care about it. Constantin can be the biggest baby sometimes when you have to put him in his place. He puts his clothes on without saying a word, which is a miracle, not even acknowledging that Ismail is there, sharing a small space with him, trying to put his clothes on too.

The bike ride is not that long from home to whatever clinic they’re going, Ismail follows Constantin because he doesn’t know exactly where it is, still not bothering to talk to each other.

When Constantin stops, Ismail does the same, following him to park their bikes together, locking it right in front of the building, walking inside right next to Constantin, suddenly his nerves catching up to him. They coming together feels like they’re about to get caught doing something they shouldn’t do. Maybe it would be easier if they were alone or separated at least. Nobody would need to know who Ismail was having unsafe sex with but them standing there together feels like more than a hint as to how it happened.

Cons’ heavy hand on his shoulder makes him jump back to the present moment, following where his best friend is leading them to go, having already spoken to the middle-aged woman at the front desk.

Ismail is thankful he got too distracted to hear what Constantin told her they were here to do.

The waiting room has some people but not enough where they can’t find an empty row of chairs against the big windows to the street in the back where they can sit away from everyone else and wait.

Ismail crosses his arms tightly against his chest, looking at everyone else except Constantin on his side. From the corner of his eyes, he can see the long legs extended in front of him, tapping one of his feet against the old vinyl flooring, making it squeak sometimes.

Ismail doesn’t even know how these tests work, how reliable it is. He sees Constantin propping himself against his knees, coming so close their arms bump into each other.

“Are you still mad?” he whispers, and Ismail sighs, fixing his hair, looking at Constantin, talking low too.

“I wasn’t mad. I’m just worried.”

Constantin moves to lean back against his chair again, his tap against the floor a lot slower now, “It was just one time, don’t stress too much about it. We’re here, so relax.”

Ismail looks over his shoulder, frowning, seeing Constantin’s arm resting behind his chair.

“You know that’s not how it works, right? It doesn’t change anything if it’s the first, the second, the hundredth time.”

Constantin doesn’t answer, rolling his eyes and putting his arm on Ismail’s shoulder again, pulling him back too, his arm still behind him, his fingertips playing with his curls on the nape of his neck.

“Please stop worrying.” He whispers and Ismail tries, the last thing they need is to keep arguing while waiting around so many strangers.

Ismail leans against Constantin’s shoulder, looking at the nurses behind the counter, trying to guess who’s going to call their names.

He lifts his eyebrows when he notices the white rich boy sitting closer to the door, quietly staring at them over his expensive phone. Now that he’s staring like Constantin is doing something wrong while playing with his hair and Ismail is a horrible person for leaning so close to him he feels like making out just to make that asshole watch without saying a word about it.

Their names are called, and Ismail looks forward, finding a nurse standing next to the counter, holding some papers, waiting for them to stand up and follow her. Constantin goes first and Ismail follows, letting Constantin do all the talking, holding some papers for both of them which Ismail assumes are their files, telling nurses and doctors in the system that they’re there to get tested, waiting outside a room for the doctor to call them in.

It’s less bad and a lot quicker than Ismail anticipated, and there are not as many questions or weird looks from the doctor while giving them brand new tests, helping them do it but they do have to do a little more waiting back in the first waiting room for the results.

“I mean...this is a good thing to do…” Constantin whispers suddenly after a few minutes of no conversation, and Ismail looks back at him, his lips brushing against Ismail’s forehead when he talks, with a smile already on his lips like they’re not worrying anymore.

“What?”

“It means we don’t exactly need condoms…”

Ismail sighs, looking at his hands to not worry too much about where this conversation is going, trying to get rid of the black nail polish that insists on staying on his nails, “It would mean that if we were in a monogamous, closed relationship…”

Constantly laughs quietly like it’s funny and Ismail tries not to take it personally.

“You really think Kieu My is having that much fun without us?”

He doesn’t, at all. Kieu My probably behaves so much better than they could ever do. Ismail just doesn’t like the idea of sharing as much as he did when they started this mess. It’s nothing serious, obviously but it’s still them having sex with someone else that’s not each other. Constantin likes it too much for Ismail to ever think he’ll stop.

It was fun at the start but he feels like the more times they do it, the messier it can get. They’re risking all the relationships between the three of them by still having sex with each other occasionally.

“I don’t but that’s mostly why we use it. Because we’re not monogamous.” He tries to give the easier, shorter answer. Constantin kisses his temple a little too close to his ear.

“Didn’t think you wanted to be monogamous with anyone, ever.”

And he doesn’t have the time to let those words sink in. The nurse is back, giving them a little envelope with their names on the tag, already moving on to deal with her next patient. Ismail grabs the envelope from Constantin’s hand and rushes it to open it outside, the cold breeze not even bothering him, letting his curls fall into his eyes, at least they’re alone again, with nobody looking, waiting to see their results.

He rips the side of the envelope and puts his index finger inside, dragging it so he can fully open the package enough so he can grab the papers inside, trying to scan the text to find just a negative or positive type of answer to all his hours-long worries.

“Fucking negative!”

Constantin squeezes his shoulder and shakes him enough where Ismail can’t read anything in the paper he’s holding so carefully with both hands, still searching for where Constantin read that.

He lets go of one of his shoulders, pointing in the paper where it says both their results are negative.

“Fucking hell…”

“I told you!”

Ismail crumples the paper a little bit with the relief he feels, closing his eyes, able to take a deep breath in, exhaling loudly, relaxing his whole body, feeling how his neck and shoulders hurt now from being so tense for so long.

He feels high, that’s how happy he is. Constantin pulls the paper from his hand and smooths it against his thigh, folding it back to fit inside the envelope again.

“We should go home now.” Ismail feels brave from the relief, holding Constantin’s jacket, as close as they can be, staring at his naturally puffy and dry lips.

“I thought you didn’t like the idea.” He says back, putting the envelope in the back pocket of his loose jeans.

“I like it now.”

#druck #constantin ostendorf #ismail inci #ismail x constantin #LTWRC

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stilemawillow · 4 years

Text

Urges [Levi | Reader | Modern AU!]

Shit.

He wanted her. A lot. And she woudn't even know.

He heard the front door open and then close, which brought him to the conclusion that she was back (probably with the intention to have a real life). She would usually come over to his place and use the spare key he'd given her to run away from a shitty day or avoid her douche of a boyfriend. The shit stain didn't treat her right - he misused her, abused her and talked shit all the time, but she kept jogging after him like a lost puppy after every single one of their arguments.

Levi had sworn it to himself that he was going to beat the bastard to a pulp at one point. Once (Y/N) had went to his apartment after an argument with a bruise on her face and when Levi asked her where it was from the answer was apparent before she even said it aloud. Shit stain of the year did that to her. Back then (Y/N) had to beg the raven on her knees not to remove that motherfucker from the face of Earth, which unfortunately worked and he decided to leave it for another time even though he hated seeing her come over all beaten up and tired after a shitty day at work.

His only relief on the matter was that now she was with him, so he could take proper care of her.

"How was work?" He asked while getting up from the couch and stretching a bit before heading for his office.

He needed to turn off his computer so she didn't see his new drafts - she wouldn't let him talk about anything else if she did. Plus, if she learned the drafts weren't even about the book and he was slacking off, she would give him a piece of her mind. Or her hand. She hated it when he procrastinated because he'd never tell her what was happening in the book and she'd be like all others - forced to wait for its release to understand what happens next.

"My boss was an asshole and had me do two ten-page reports before I left the office. Plus, his ever so arrogant secretary decided to spill her coffee on top of me. Twice. I didn't even have a spare shirt." The woman tossed her shoes next to his and plopped down on the couch in the living room seconds before Levi sat himself next to her.

"Want one of mine?" He suggested casually, knowing she'd be happy to accept.

"Sure thing, Levi. You know I never really refuse any clothes from you." The woman chuckled and he glanced at her. Because of their positions he couldn't see the right side of her face, but judging by the way her mouth halted in the middle of its stretch Levi concluded there was something fishy going on. Something more than a tea shower and a stressful day at work because usually that wasn't enough for her to run into his apartment at this time of the evening and not fall asleep on the couch. She obviously needed him as a friend at the moment and it was a thing he could understand.

"I'll fetch you a shirt and a pair of shorts from the dresser. In the meantime you need a fucking shower. You look and smell like shit." Levi commented with digust before standing up and listening to the ring of her chuckle.

"That's a shame. I even put on additional parfume before coming here." She said sarcastically just before he walked out of the room, all the while mumbling under his breath.

"Truly a fucking shame."

While he was picking out clothes for her, she entered the bathroom and less than six minutes later exited freshly showered, wrapped in the towel he's left for her use only. Levi couldn't help but stare at her body even though he knew it was wrong, his smoky hues walked over her bare shoulders, slender legs and thin waist. She was his best friend, but she was also the girl he was attracted to. He couldn't do anything to change that.

"What did the shit stain do this time?" Levi asked as they sat on the couch once more after she'd gotten dressed. (Y/N)'s right side was once again hidden from him and her hands were slowly drying her hair with a towel.

"How many times have I told you not to call him that?" She threw Levi a glance full of hidden amusement. She wasn't that much against the nickname Levi had thought up for her boyfriend, she even enjoyed hearing it at times.

"And how many times has that not affected me? Stop fighting it." The raven clicked his tongue and she just groaned in supposed exasperation. The gesture made him eye up her lips before focusing his gaze back on the TV show playing on the screen of his plasma. "Now answer my previous question." He added after she throught he'd forgotten about it, his eyes never fleeing from the front.

"He... didn't reject that slut of a secretary when she was flirting with him today. She almost kissed him at one point and he still didn't say 'no' to her. I slapped her, which may or may not have been the reason for my tea shower later that day." (Y/N) explained and Levi snorted.

"Good job. I would've clapped for you if I was there." He smirked briefly and she smiled slightly, hitting his shoulder casually, but never even facing him fully.

"Yeah, I know you would've. Anyways, when I tried to reason with him later he sided with her and I was so pissed off that I raised my voice at him and he just---" The flow of words coming out of her mouth came to a halt and Levi's eyes darted towards her visage almost immediately. He traced the movement of her fidgeting fingers in her lap and the locks of her damp hair as it made the T-shirt he'd given her wet.

"Don't tell me that shit stain hit you again." Levi stated coldly, his jaw clicking harshly when she didn't say anything and he gritted his teeth to the point they hurt. "(Y/N). Fucking look at me." She flinched and her hands instictivelly reached up to cover her face, making him even angrier. Did she just fucking react as if he was going to hit her? Was that the point of fear that shit stain had driven her to with his abuse? Levi grabbed her wrist and put it down gently, but his frown never left his face. "Did that shit stain hit you?" The raven hissed out through gritted teeth and she nodded her head weakly.

"Maybe." Her answer was so timid that she sounded like a child getting scolded for something it didn't even do.

Levi let go of her wrist and instead cradled her face with his slender hands as gently as possible, finally making her face him fully. Her expression was both guilty and scared, and the raven couldn't believe she even thought that he would ever hit her, but he guessed her boyfriend did it so often she expected it out of any male at this point of things. What was even more unbelievable was the fact that the shit stain had dared to hit her again. Levi's grey eyes slowly traced the cut on the right side of (Y/N)'s mouth where her bottom lip had split, it was swollen, red and most probably extremely painful.

"God." He let go of her face and she turned away once again, eyes avoiding his at all cost. "I'm going to shove a burning stick in his ass and push until it comes out of his mouth so he can suffocate with his own shit."

"Levi, don't talk like that!" (Y/N) exclaimed with furrowed eyebrows, but her eyes still seemed frightened.

"Like what, (Y/N)?! Don't tell me you're siding with that shit stain like he had with the slut today. You know he is pathetic for hitting a woman that loves him unconditionaly even though there's nothing to be liked about him. And you know I hate him." The raven glared and the woman just sighed before her gaze fled to the TV screen as if it would erase the awkward mood and ease the heavy atmosphere. When it didn't, she decided to speak.

"I do know. Just..."

"Just what?" He inquired with a frown and she sighed again then looked at him on her own accord for the first time that day with pleading eyes.

"I hate seeing you so angry." She stated softly, making him glare as he looked into her eyes with cold determination.

"I hate being this angry, too. Mostly because I don't think it'll be needed, but a shit stain stays a shit stain no matter how many chances you give it." He said coldly and she fell silent for a short moment before glancing at him with uncertainty.

"Would you feel better if we bitch behind his back over a few beers?" She suggested hopefully, her top priority at the moment being to make Levi turn back to his usual bored self.

"Sure. But only if I'm not the only one doing the bitching." He threw her a knowing glare and she chuckled, shooing him off the couch and out of the room to go fetch the beer.

"I will stay true to my words, don't worry. So you go and take the beer and I'll turn off my phone. We don't want any interruptions during our quality time, right?" She cocked an eyebrow his way and he nodded lightly, a satisfied hum rumbling at the back of his throat as he took his leave and headed towards the kitchen. Even in his wildest dreams Levi wouldn't be able to imagine how it made her knees wobble as she pressed the 'off' button on her phone once he exited the room.

"God, my boyfriend's such a bitch." (Y/N) may've been tipsy when she said that, but Levi wasn't anything near drunk.

In the last hour and a half he'd considered stopping (Y/N) from chugging down the six-pack he'd brought from the kitchen so many times that he almost thought he'd become her mother instead of best friend, but he never prevented the (h/c) haired from getting drunk because it was one of the little times she got to loosen up away from her shit stain of a boyfriend. Plus, she was with Levi only, so he would stop her from doing anything too stupid or dangerous if needed.

"Now you know why I call him a shit stain." He snorted and she laughed, making his heart flutter.

Why couldn't he get a crush on some stupid, pretty girl who only wanted to fuck him? With her he would have an actual chance. (Y/N) however, wouldn't let him do anything. She was mature, smart and beautiful, and probably more loyal than himself. Even if he wanted to he wouldn't be able to get her in bed with all those charms of his. Simply because she knew of all of them and she also knew that they wouldn't work on her like they did on every other woman.

That was probably the biggest hole in his plan during high school when he was still set on thinking of a way to win her over - he'd already become her best friend and it would've worked out so much better if they barely knew each other. Maybe if he wasn't stupid enough as to make her his friend then she would've been his girlfriend by now. Or she wouldn't even be here in this very moment at all, off with an abusive boyfriend anyway and leaving Levi to live his life all alone. He wouln't even be an author because she was all he could ever write about. He couldn't really choose which of those variants he liked most.

Probably none.

"I sure do. And I agree with you completely." Her can of beer lightly clinked against his and she lifted it to her lips, taking a sip before hissing in pain slightly. Obviously her split lip still hurt a lot.

"I'd drink to that." Levi stated and she looked at him with knitted eyebrows.

"My agreement?" She questioned and he shook his head. On a scale of 1-10, with ten being completely wasted and one being sober as shit, (Y/N) was probably above six. Once her intelligence stepped out of the way for her oblivious behaviour and whining she would be qualified as a steady seven and a half.

"No, the official announcal of your boyfriend's ultimate nickname." Levi let himself smirk at his own mock towards his best friend's boyfriend, who he wished was already dead somewhere or off fucking that secretary so (Y/N) could figure out how terrible he was and finally dump him.

"Well, let's drink to that then." She agreed quickly with a grin on her face, making their cans collide lighlty before chugging down the rest of her beer with Levi following close behind.

"To the shit stain that can't even go to the toilet without calling him mother to wipe his ass!" Levi lifted up his almost-empty can for a cheer.

"To the shit stain that can't sleep alone in fear of the dark!" (Y/N) added with her own empty can and the raven's head whipped to look at her in bewilderment.

"He's scared of the dark?"

"Oh, yeah, totally." (Y/N) snorted and Levi nodded his head in understanding all the while chanting under his breath 'good, good'. He went for two more cans and handed her one as she lay back on the cushion of the couch and stared at the TV, which was currently playing a cartoon.

"I'm starting to like my quality time with you so much, Levi. I've been piled up with so much shit lately. And as we spoke about shit - how's your book going?" She laughed at her own joke and then smirked at him as he leaned back on the cusion of the couch. (Y/N) used his position to put her legs in his lap and use him as a pillow.

"Better than your love life that's for sure." He didn't smirk, but she was able to detect the smugness in his voice, which meant he was truly mocking her. Her love life represented a shit a lot anyway so it was a justified mockery.

"Oh, come on." She whined and took a swig from the beer.

"It needs some editing and the few last chapters are fucking shit, but it'll be ready just in time for the publishing. Around a month or two." The raven shrugged and she nodded thoughtfully.

"That's great. How does it end?" She's been expecting the end with so much anticipation. He told her almost the whole story, but always refused to tell her about the actual end. The characters totally deserved to get married, maybe they could even have a kid - then they'd go and live where the heroine had always wanted them to spend the rest of their liv---

"They die."

"What?" Her drunken state was so bewildered for a second, her mouth fell open and she just stared at him like a fish.

"Just kidding." His face stayed expressionless even when she started cussing at him for scaring her that much. For the next few seconds she stayed there, her legs in his lap and a beer can in her hand, pouting ever so adorably. Levi just stared at the TV, knowing that soon enough she would shake off the gloom and resume questioning him. She could never ignore her curiosity.

"So the end?" She insisted less than five seconds later and he sighed.

"I haven't really set myself on a particular idea. I'll take my time with it." He barely sighed, he knew she would pester him about it, but he still didn't have that much of a clear idea in his head for it. He could make it sad or happy or something in the middle, which wouldn't really sell since average wasn't cliché enough or too much cliché and it wouldn't attract a bigger audience to the book. Or that's at least what his editor would say. However, no matter what exactly Levi wrote, he knew (Y/N) would love to read it. She always did. Only fou books into an author's life and she was probably his #1 fan or something.

He remembered once back in time (before she got herself a boyfriend) she decided to wait in line for his autograph and tackle him, making herself look like a crazy fangirl. Back then he'd scolded her as she laughed, but right now the memory of it was something that reminded Levi of what he used to have with her. She was crazy. She may had become rational and mature now, surpressing the adventurous high school girl, but the raven knew deep down she was still the same cocky girl who loved pranking people and dragging him into all of her messes, no matter if he wanted it or not.

It wasn't a coincidence that his first ever book was about two high schoolers falling in love. The second was about college. The third was dark and filled with the hardships of adulthood. The fourth was light and funny, shortest of them all. And the one that was being written right now... was about growing up out of everything. Even love.

"Tell me when you think of it immediately."

"You know I will anyway." He stated and she smiled slightly before leaving the beer can on the ground and propping herself on her elbows.

"I know." For that single moment her smile flashed in front of his eyes (her bright eyes lit up and the cut on her lip reopened) Levi craved the past. Her aura was so soothing and despite the fact she was drunk he knew - he wanted her. He'd never been somebody to glance too often behind his back, but in that single moment he realised he wanted to turn back time. To re-live everything the right way. To speak when the time was good. To prevent certain things from happening. And god, how much he wanted her.

"Jesus." He sighed - elbows propping themselves on his knees with his face in his palms as his fingers dug into his scalp, he knew this was wrong. Another sigh - a heavy one, left his lips and he felt (Y/N)'s legs leave his lap before she placed a hand on his slumped shoulder. The muscles tensed underneath her delicate touch and Levi could curse at that.

Don't touch her.

"Levi, are you okay?" She asked gently, voice wary but soft and he felt terrible on the inside. His brain couldn't even register what he was feeling so shitty about, he just knew he wanted to vomit and that the reason had something to do with her. His back hit the cushion of the couch harshly in an attempt to shake off her touch. He kept his hands in front of his face, trying to brush off the illusions by rubbing his eyes constantly and racking his fingers through his raven locks.

"I'm fucking fine, I just---"

Don't touch her.

"Are you drunk?" She inquired with a concerned face and tried getting closer, but he cut her off sharply.

"I never get drunk."

"Then?" She was considerate of him even in a moment like this when she should be worrying more about herself. She was the drunk one after all.

"Just go to sleep already. It's late." He reached for his can of beer, but her hand stopped him. That small palm of hers - that made electricity graze his skin once it touched his flesh - was cold. He clearly felt her freezing fingers, but it was as if he didn't even notice them when he heard what she said next.

"I don't want to go to sleep, Levi. I'm not that drunk yet. And I don't want to leave you alone when you seem down. What's up?"

Couldn't she just leave him now? It seemed as if he was going to either have a mental break down or jump her if she stayed any longer. Snapping didn't sound all too good in Levi's own opinion, but the cup was already overflowing and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up with her curiosity any more, which would surely result in something neither would like to face the consequences of afterwards. Then it would be too late.

"Your boyfriend's up. Why can't you fucking give him the boot?" The raven had had enough for the day. Her presence was overwhelming, he shouldn't have gotten so careless and maybe if she hadn't been herself then he wouldn't have to deal with these things right now. Deep down he knew the fault wasn't hers, though. It was all him.

"Levi, we've been over this more times than I care to remember. Why do you care if I dump him or not anyway?" She asked, borderline pissed off. He knew pretty well they had already engaged in too many arguments about her relationship with that shit stain in the last few years she'd dated him. They all had the same outcome - her emotions beating his selfish arguments and them both stopping to talk to each other for a day or so.

"It's because I fucking---" He didn't want to finish that sentence, because goddamn him if he told her now. At this point, it would be as useless as this argument.

"You fucking what?" She was really growing irritated, but the tone of curiosity in her voice had obviously raised. Levi knew he hadn't acted like this since the time they were in college. His very first outburst when he was yet once again on his way to confess to her was just like this. He never let himself finish back then. And it was too late now anyway. Why not just say it?

"I can take better care of you! I bet you haven't even made love to him! And you know why? He's a piece of shit that doesn't know how to love - that's why!" Levi's face was one of pure fury, he even wondered for a second if the alcohol wasn't really influencing his system and the decisions he was making. (Y/N) was quiet for a second. All was silent. Then her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth opened ready to voice out her retort.

"If you're so confident then---"

"Then what?" He snapped back at her, knowing she would go and tell him to fuck himself or something similar.

"Have sex with me, Levi." Her sentence - short, full and straightforward, stunned Levi into silence. He knew he wasn't alright, but neither was she. He didn't want to take advantage of her but the fact she'd never want this of him when she was sober made the situation worse. The temptation of smothering her with kisses on the spot was too irresistable because he knew after tonight he wouldn't ever get another chance to.

"You're going to do it so easily?" She snorted in determination and he knew when she set her mind on a goal she was going to have it. He just hoped he could convince her otherwise this time before it was too late.

"Why not. You said my boyfriend is a shit stain yourself. That he can't show me love. Then you do." The glint in her eyes, the alcohol on her breath, the bead of sweat rolling down from the crook of her neck into the valley of her breasts - Levi's eyes skimmed along every single of those things; he couldn’t force himself to look away from her.

"How do you know I even love you?" He asked a simple question, knowing (Y/N) would probably put a lot of thought on it. Which she didn't do this time.

"I don't. But I trust you." Her figure moved closer to him, her legs made themselves comfortable between his thighs as her hands stood on both his shoulders. She waited for a reply.

"Trust me? So you're telling me that handing me over the choice here is called trust? I can do it and it would be bad, I can refuse and it would be bad. The fuck's going to end well in this situation?" The raven may have been angry, but he concluded screaming at her would only make it worse.

He couldn't choose between her friendship and a single night with her, and he knew - trust for her meant that she knew he would do the right thing. The right one for her or him, though? He didn't deserve her trust when he was this selfish. They'd been friends for almost eight years now and he'd been suppressing his needs for at least four of them. And now that he was actually being tempted by having sex with her and ruining all those years of friendship he was able to realise that he was more pathetic than anyone had given him credit for.

"You'll show me what I'm missing. What I've been missing all this time." Her words brought him out of his small daze, his eyes went back to hers and for a second he really considered the idea of her request. She wanted to feel love? Okay, he'd give it all to her. It wouldn't be wrong. It could only end badly.

"And you're not afraid?" His voice was merely a whisper in the room - he felt like he was suffocating, his throat was dry and scratchy, his voice was slightly hoarse, his hands were trying to stay by his side.

Don't touch her.

"No." Her gaze was soft and hear breath heavy on his face. His hands were itching to touch her skin.

"Disgusted?" His eyebrows furrowed in uncertainty and she shook her head. It brought him physical pain to stop himself at the moment - he wanted her, wanted her so badly she'd never know it. But if he did it he'd hate himself the next morning. And she'd hate him, too.

Don't touch her.

"No." She was determined and straightforward and it made his breath hitch.

"Shit." Levi cursed under his breath, gaze averting from her bright hues as he tried to calm himself down. He could more than ravish her right on this spot here with her own consent and he was asking himself why the fuck he was even hesitating - he'd come so far, done so much for her, been so patient and as nice as possible. He'd controlled himself around her, waiting for this fateful moment, so why was he trying to stop himself now?

"Why the anger?" Her question of pure curiosity made him curl up his hand in a fist then bite the inner side of his lip after he gave her a reply.

"You're taking away every reason for me not to do it." That was the thing. He wanted to, but his mind - his rational side - was telling him not to do it, to stop now when it wasn't too late. He didn't want to listen to it, but he knew deep down it was the right thing to do. And yet---

Don't touch her.

"Then just do it."

Everything about her screamed to do it already: from the way she smirked and bit her lip to the way she literally offered herself to him, drunk or not. He didn't even need to reassure himself that it was all going to be okay because he was already aware that it wasn't going to be and he accepted the fact barely when he felt her lips collide with his.

I'm going to fucking regret this shit so much. Was most probably the last rational thought his mind managed to voice out before the switch of the brain was turned off. It was like an instinct to kiss her back, to wrap his hands around her and pull her closer - something he'd been so patiently expecting all this time.

Her lips were hot and just so soft against his he didn't even bother to be that gentle. His hands roughly traced the outlines of her body, gripping her rear as she opened her mouth for his wet muscle to explore. She was already panting when he got up and made her legs wrap around his waist, he didn't intend to have sex with her for the first time on the couch in the living room.

When her back hit the soft mattress Levi felt like he had achieved something in life - something way more meaningful than writing a simple novel or two, or even five, something that satisfied him inwardly because of the mere idea. Seeing (Y/N) - that strong, independent, funny, beautiful and so much more than simply unavailable woman, lying under him, panting and staring up at him with lust made him feel something between guilt and pleasure. Her swollen lips were waiting for his and her (e/c) hues were basically begging him to touch her already.

A slight surge of curiosity went through his body as he kissed her again - something similar to what Adam probably felt when he took the forbidden fruit from the garden. (Y/N) was his forbidden fruit that much was true. Another undeniable fact was that her infidelity wouldn't be taken lightly - she'd want to kill herself afterwards or her shit stain of a boyfriend would try to kill both of them if he ever found out. Something inevitable in all cases was that no matter the particular outcome, the ending would be bad.

Levi barely had time to process those stuff. He didn't even try because after all - he wanted to face those consequences. If that was the price he was going to pay for finally getting what he wanted then let it be. He was going to be an egoist, he would want her only for himself, he would ruin their friendship. So be it if that meant giving her all the love he had tonight. This was a mistake, that much was clear, but it was a sweet mistake, one he wouldn't actually regret.

Their clothes left their bodies, slipping into the darkness of the bedroom. (Y/N)'s slender fingers dug into the muscles of his back as he pressed sloppy kisses all over her body and her voice fueled his eagerness when she would moan. He'd never imagined he'd truly get to hear her made such lewd noises first-hand, but here she was - racking her fingers through his raven locks as he held her thighs and made her chant his name like it was the only thing she knew how to say.

Minutes later, she begged him to stop teasing her and he complied happily - enjoying the sight of her red face as he trusted in and out of her core. Her nails scraping along the skin of his back made him hiss and he was sure there would be marks, but he couldn't care less about it - it felt so good at the moment. He could never get tired of doing this.

On the next morning - a bright and warm Sunday, Levi woke up to the faint sound of whimpering. When his eyes fluttered open and he searched around the room for the source of the noise, Levi's gaze was met with (Y/N)'s hunched form sitting on the edge of the bed with her face in her hands as she sobbed. This was it. Levi knew. The consequences had come to him. He sat up in the bed and warily approached the crying female, wondering what he could say in this situation.

"(Y/N)." For now he only needed to get her attention - he concluded. He couldn't really ask 'why all the tears?' or 'was I good yesterday?' or 'you're gonna dump your boyfriend and come to me now, right?'. Neither would 'good morning' work, because the woman was clearly bawling her eyes out and as insensitive as Levi was, he wasn’t an idiot. His best friend's head whipped back to meet his gaze with her puffy bloodshot eyes and he knew he was in no state whatsoever to call her a friend anymore. He could only try and keep her as an acquaintance at most. Levi could now bet she would no longer talk to him.

"... how could you?" She asked quietly, voice raspy and full of disgust as her eyes narrowed at his visage but still kept the tears coming and rolling down her face.

"... you started it."

"Yes, but you should've stopped me! I was drunk!" Her head may have been feeling as if splitting in two from the hangover, but she still managed to scream at him from frustration and anger. And she was only partially right.

"Don't lie to me, I did try to stop you. Don't put all the blame on me." Levi was getting angry himself. She was now standing up in front of him - fuming, but still crying - dressed only in his forest green T-shirt from the nigth before and glaring at him.

"I wouldn't if it wasn't you the one at fault!" She exclaimed and he peeled the sheets off his body, only his boxers standing on his waist as he sat on the edge of the bed and argued with her.

"You were the one seducing me. What was I supposed to do?" His face was full of fury even though he realised it was how it would've gone all this time. All pleasure and happiness from the night before had vanished from his thoughts - now all he could think of was a way to try and make himself not seem like the only villain of the story.

"Reject me!" Her voice hit a higher note and Levi almost cringed - not because of it but because of the simple words it voiced out.

"So we could've stopped being friends either way? I better enjoy you all to myself for a night than shoo you off!" He finally boiled over the edge - edge of all rational and he had already started - he said it.

"... what? You..." Her eyes were wide and full of disbelief, her motions were cut off - body frozen in shock from his words and her voice was barely a whisper yet he was able to catch both it and the shock it expressed.

"Yes, yes - I've wanted you. I’ve wanted you all along but you got an abusive boyfriend so I tried to be your friend instead of ghost you because I was broken-hearted. Now you come along, upset because your boyfriend’s siding with a slut that hates you, you offer yourself to me in the most horrible way possible and I can tell you wouldn't want to see me ever again no matter what I do and you say that it's my fault? Maybe, for falling in love with you back then. But now, (Y/N), the fault is yours." He glared at her and stood up, making her seem small and vulnerable, broken and shocked, and just so emotional - like he'd never seen her before.

The (Y/N) he knew wasn't like this. She always had things under control, she lost her temper but she never cried, she was never vulnerable or weak, she was always confident, the air around her always spoke of her emotions, but now all Levi could see was the bundle they'd become. Witnessing the always composed and confident woman he'd been in love with all this time look so broken and confused by everything just made him want to hug her and erase all pain her mind could've been in.

"Stay away from me, Levi." The urge apparently had been too big for his body to control, so when he felt (Y/N)'s small hands trying to hit his chest as he hugged her form Levi could see how confused indeed she was. Usually she would've been able to punch him really hard and make him back out, but now she was so absentminded that she couldn't even focus on punching him properly.

"No." He stood his ground and his arms stayed unmoving around her form. "Not until you say that we're both at fault for what happened."

"And what if I don't want to?" She whispered in the crook of his neck.

"I know you want to be loyal to that shit stain, but not saying it out loud doesn't erase it and we both know that." The voice that was always so deep and monotonous kept his steadiness, but replaced the usual cold and nonchalant feeling with mildness instead. It was obvious he wasn't trying to hurt her intentionally and saying the truth in a more hushed voice wasn't going to take away the consequences of his words but maybe it could soften them a little in her ears.

"Levi..." She sobbed hard and he could already feel tears rolling down her cheeks onto his bare skin.

"Yeah, I'm sorry for being an ass." His hand petted her head and held her body close as she almost chocked on her own sobs.

"What am I going to do now?"

"'I slept with my best friend’ is what you stopped yourself from saying, correct?" His voice was barely a whisper, but it made her briefly take a gulp of air and squeeze him closer to herself with the words:

"I hate you for knowing me that well." She mumbled into the crook of his neck as he sighed.

"Where did the 'you ass' go? Now that we've had sex you're trying to break us apart by not using my pet name?" Usually the joke would had made her laugh full on, but unfortunately for him the best reaction he could get out of her right now was a single fake-angry 'shut up, you ass' and a weak slap on his back because apparently she didn't want let go of him yet. He could feel the disgust that oozed from her, but not because of him - no, he couldn't even hope for that - the disgust was directed at herself. "There it is. I won't shut up, though." With a soft caress to the back of her head and a gentle voice he tried to make her stop crying. Such an impossible task, though.

"What are we going to do now?" Her hands clenched and unclenched just over the skin of his shoulder-blades and he tensed, knowing he would have to give her an answer. After all they were both at fault for what happened and they had to try and solve it together.

"Slap me across the face if that would help." He stated with a small huff. She parted from him and looked him in the eyes as if asking 'are you for real?', but he just nodded at her tear-stained face. In a second he felt his head spin ninety degrees to the left, his cheek stung and the side of his jaw was numb all over. "Didn't expect you to do it for real." He pointed out while holding the wounded place as she looked down at her feet and then back to his face in shame.

"I know." She stated and he sighed deeply through his nose, his hand letting go of his face only to come in contact with her shoulder, keeping her in place as he collected the proper words for what he wanted to say.

"(Y/N), I..."

"Save it." She cut him out coldly even though he never finished. Her eyes strayed from his in the moment she continued her small speech but she left his hand on her shoulder stay in its place. "I'm afraid you'd have to say it when you're sure I'll say something positive in return." Her own hand went for her arm, trying to cover her body. She showed discomfort even though she spoke with coldness in her voice.

"You won't now?" His eyes searched for hers, but she refused to meet his smoky gaze - it was full of both despair and hope, it could make her weak in the knees.

"We just had sex, Levi. I commited infidelity. I hate myself currently. And you, too. You can't actually want of me to return that 'I love you' you were about to say." Her voice trembled at the middle of her sentence and Levi's eyes narrowed in supposed pity.

"But you would after time?" His voice held no hope, just nonchalance and she immediately knew he wasn't even hoping for a positive answer.

"Yeah, in the friend way." (Y/N) fiddled with the hem of the forest green T-shirt, finally looking up and meeting his gaze. When she saw his eyes held nothing but emptiness, she could only guess how broken he was by the situation at hand.

"Did you at least enjoy it?" He asked but his voice was deprived of any playfulness and yet to brighten the mood she huffed while hiding a smile and slapped his shoulder weakly, looking back down at her feet.

"You're disgusting." She mumbled and tried her best not to chuckle at his question.

"Look who says that." His words made her look back up at him with a hurt expression, an inner conflict raging inside her mind, body and each and every fiber of her was suggesting a different solution to the situation - each crazier than the previous.

"Levi..." She trailed off and his face for the first time in ages dared to show her an expression she was better off without seeing. Sadness.

"I don't want to have you hating me, (Y/N). I'm okay with being a friend of yours, not even a lover or anything special, just don't leave me." He mumbled with a strained voice, arms going for a hug and enveloping her fragile body with tense tenderness as if she'd disappear if he let go of her. His words were so out of character because they were filled with emotion and honesty, with everything he was usually straying from and that was what surprised her most.

She didn't try to push him away, but her body forced his in a corner and he fell back on the bed. His hands however refused to leave her frame and she just wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her face burying itself in his raven locks as her fingers interlocked with the silky tresses.

"... we'll see."

"Please." He begged, face in her chest and hands gripping her waist in a vise grip, voice getting muffled by the clothing she had on herself. With a deep breath she filled her lungs with the sweet aroma of his ebony locks and exhaled slowly while pulling lightly on a strand of his hair.

"... fine. I won't leave you, Levi." It took him time to process what she said, he was overwhelmed by happiness, by relief, by hope and a small breath of relief left his lips. His eyes stung and he blinked numerous times before he could calm down. She felt his hands tighten their grip on her waist, but she didn't mind since she had the feeling it was the most he could do right now without losing control of his emotions.

Don't cry.

She smiled gently, still caressing his hair, and closed her eyes for a single moment with the intent to inhale some of his pleasant scent again, but instead she could feel her heatbeat beating against her ribcage in a calm manner, the relaxation her body oozed, the small breaths she let out while being held in his arms - literally everything about him helped her relax. Who would think she was having a mental breakdown just a few minutes ago?

And then his answer, weak and so soft - anything but what Levi would had usually said, made her grin so much her cheeks hurt because she knew she would find a way out of this mess. And she knew she had him by her side. And one day... maybe he could get what he wanted as well. She would say it when the time comes.

"... thanks, (Y/N)."

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman fanfiction #reader insert #bruhhhhh this has s/m/u/t #be safe ppl don't get nosebleeds #sorry for the lame scene #you know which one i'm talking about #you can totally skip it btw #dunno why i haven't started making disclaimers before the actual work comes #but oh well #i guess not putting a warning can be bad for some and exciting for others #sorry

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lesserpandeu · 4 years

Text

Software Instability | prologue

fandom: NCT

genre: Sci-Fi/Detroit: Become Human AU!, android AU!, probably lots of angst + fluff in later chapters

pairing: Mark x Reader (probably some Donghyuck x Reader if you squint super hard, especially in later chapters)

words: 3,262

warnings: gun violence, death, cursing;

summary: The amount of deviant cases your department has been receiving is concerning to say the least. After pressuring the android manufacturing company, CyberLife, they send an android to assist your department in finding out what is causing the deviancy in so many androids lately. His name is Mark, and as soft as he seems on the outside, you can’t help but be utterly terrified by him.

A/N: This story is based on the world of the video game “Detroit: Become Human”. Just replacing Connor (one of the main characters) with Mark and putting y/n in it. You don’t need to know anything about D:BH to read the story, as I explain everything the reader needs to know as the story progresses! While it doesn’t follow the plot word for word all the time, sometimes I need to look up the cutscenes and repeat them to help progress the plot (like the negotiation scene in this prologue). Warning: It might take me awhile to update, but it also it might not, lol. I’m awful about staying on top of fics. Enjoy!

prologue: “My name is Mark”

One more fucking deviant case and you’d lose your goddamn mind.

It was only a matter of time until the deviant jumped off the balcony with the little girl in his arms, sending them both to their dooms. It was a little more imperative for the girl, considering she was actually alive. The android was expendable, but given the fact that it was holding her hostage outside on the balcony, that was going to prove difficult.

Every SWAT officer that’s gone out to stop it was met with bullets aiming with perfect accuracy and an inability to get closer, risking the girl’s safety.

“One more team, just send one more, we’ll get him this time-” your colleague was suggesting as the both of you stood in the office of a once peaceful family home, before the android turned on them and killed them all, except for the little girl he was currently holding near the edge of the pent suite’s balcony.

“It didn’t work the first two times, it won’t work a third, Taeil. We wait for the negotiator to arrive to diffuse the situation-” Donghyuck, your other colleague cut Taeil off before he committed the same offense.

“What’s a fucking negotiator going to do?! That deviant was beyond the point of reason the minute it went nuts!”

“Both of you, shut up,” you groaned, holding your fingers to your temple. You were currently sitting in the office chair, trying to sooth yourself from one of the most stressful moments in your career, no doubt. “No one likes the situation right now, cause frankly, there’s currently a 5% chance that this kid is making it out without falling to her fucking death. If we go against orders and things turn as sour as we’re expecting it to, we’re in for a lot of shit from the head of department that ordered this new approach. We wait, and we obey orders.”

“Oh, nice, so we’re just going to sit and watch as a blue headed android just hops off the roof murdering another innocent human, further dispelling the faith the people have in their safety around androids, only further increasing the rate of android deviancy and cases we’re already overwhelmed with, yeah, you’re so right.”

Taeil had a reason to be stressed out about this. Androids had been implemented into society now for about 30 years. Nearly everyone had one, if they could afford it. They were perfect companions, workers, and entertainers. They came in anyway you could want them: tall, short, dark, light, young, and old. You could program them however you wanted. They could be funny (honestly, you never thought comedic androids were actually funny), kind, obedient, or even sarcastic.

It wasn’t until three months ago that a crime involving an android popped up in your department. An android turned on it’s human, stabbing her fifty times in the chest. It was so shocking at the time, which made it worse when just three more cases appeared in the next two weeks. Now you're on your seventh case, though there have been many more handled by other factions of the PD. One thing all of these cases clearly had in common: deviancy.

The only thing every single android was required to have in common was obedience. It was never allowed to go against its owner’s will. Technology isn’t supposed to disobey. Bad things happen when that occurs. And boy, were they happening. Like the bad thing happening right now.

“Could you- Would- Piss off,” you end up yelling, earning a flinch from the SWAT officer that walked by the open door. They were standing by as the final resort.

“I just want this shit to be over, thank you very much,” Taeil defensively crossed his arms and leaned against the only wall not hidden by dressers with the family’s pictures. It was suffocating to sit in a home just so freshly destroyed.

“Well, it looks like it will be, cause guess who’s here?” Donghyuck mumbled.

You looked up from your shoes to see what he was talking about.

An android dressed in a stereotypical investigative uniform strode up to the door frame, stance practically perfect. No one needed the glowing serial number on the pocket of his jacket, the blue band wrapped around his arm, or the LED ring on the side of his temple to know that he was an android. He had black hair with bangs parting out, and high cheekbones. He looked young, he seemed to have been designed with a baby face in mind. If he were just a human, he’d probably be a teenager or a college student.

He smiled. It looked so realistic. Androids look just like people these days.

“Oh my god,” Donghyuck responded. The android looked puzzled, blinking a few times as his smile dissipated.

“I didn’t say anyth-”

“They sent a fucking android to talk us out of an hostage situation cause by an android?” Donghyuck exasperated.

“Okay, enough, we need to get that girl out,” Taeil said. “What are you doing?”

“Hello. My name is Mark. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife,” he introduces himself. His voice has an odd chirp to it, like he was programmed to come off as friendly as possible.

“I hate him already-”

“Donghyuck, stop it, we don’t have time.”

“You’re damn right we don’t,” Taeil had enough and walked out the room, squeezing by Mark standing in the doorway. “This way.”

Mark followed him, allowing you and Donghyuck to do the same. You walked into the living room where the sliding doors that led to the balcony were located. The bodies of the last SWAT team lay on the ground by the pool, one fallen inside of it. No one in the room was fazed by it.

“The situation,” Tail started. “The Acharya family is home, their daughter is coming home from school. At 5:24 pm, the father is murdered by the android on the couch with a handgun. The mother follows after coming out of her room to see what is going on. The daughter returns home at 5:40 pm.”

As Taeil explains, Mark begins looking around the apartment. Any other time an officer would ask what the hell he was doing, but since Taeil was talking and didn’t seem to care, you figured it was fine. He went into the kitchen, as it was combined with the living room in a big space. He notices the stove top, which obviously causes you to be aware of it. Water is boiling, who knows for how long at this point. He turns it off, setting it on one of the inactive burners. You raise an eyebrow but nearly instantly forget about it.

“Then, she calls the police but is then taken hostage by the android. They are currently outside, on the edge of the roof ready to fall off any minute now. He has held her at knife point the whole time, making the sniper unable to shoot. Your job is to get him away from her, preferably without killing her.” A brief, but not long at all, silence looms before Mark says something.

“Do we know the android’s name?”

“...uh”

“What kind of question-” Donghyuck laughs, cutting himself off as if in frustration.

Mark doesn’t miss a beat, “I’m going to need more information to ensure the best approach. There is currently only a forty-eight percent chance of this mission being a success.”

“Yeah, and the longer we wait, the more quickly it becomes 0-”

“Five minutes,” you state. Sure, maybe Taeil should have the final say since he is your senior in both age and experience, but you don’t care right now. Taeil sends you a glare, momentarily staying silent before letting out one of the most stressed out sighs you’ve ever heard him breath.

“Five minutes, or I’m going out there myself.”

Mark seems to briefly look at you and Taeil as to acknowledge your permission before further inspecting his surroundings. Taeil walks off, going to talk to a SWAT officer. Donghyuck is still outwardly paranoid, leaving the room as he tries to cool down.

You? You watch Mark. Someone’s got to make sure this beta testing droid doesn’t do stupid shit. Okay, maybe less so that and you were just curious.

He walks over to the body of the father (still on the ground, you tried to ignore it the best you could), and takes the holographic tablet out of his hands. He unlocks it somehow, looking through it. Soon he puts it down and goes off somewhere. You follow him, he doesn’t seem to pay you any attention, though.

He, interestingly enough, goes into the girl’s bedroom, indicated by the giant teddy bear residing in it. He looks around, noticing a few things. Frankly, you have no clue what he was doing. But it was too much of a bother to prod him for answers.

He picks up a different tablet this time, unlocking it. Audio playback begins, drawing your attention. You then notice that it’s actually a video playing. You can see it from around Mark’s torso, given the angle created by standing in the doorway of the bedroom. What on earth was he doing?

“This is Jaemin!” the girl’s voice declares. The video shows her face, that then pans out to show her arm around an android. The blue-haired one you were dealing with at this very moment. But his hair was brown in the photo. Not strange, given most androids had automatic hair color changing options. “The coolest android in the world! Say hi, Jaemin!”

“Hello,” he smiles widely, waving at the camera. They both look so happy. While the video quality is significantly good, the slight distortion of the medium causes ‘Jaemin’ to look practically human, if it weren’t for the commercial android uniform. It was illegal for an android not to wear a uniform identifying that they were digital animals.

Mark puts down the tablet, ending the video playback and continuing his short investigation. He proceeded to the next room, doing just about the same thing there that he did in the last one. He kept this up until Taeil finally yelled out that the five minutes were up.

You followed Mark until you were just in front of the sliding doors, where Mark was about to walk through to diffuse the situation.

“He’s heading out now,” Taeil spoke into his receiver. With that, he opened the door. A burst of wind came through when the door opened, likely from the helicopters that had been circling around now for over an hour.

“This is going to go terribly,” Donghyuck spoke calmly, finally.

“Have a little faith, will you?” You shoved him with your shoulder, arms crossed.

“Just because you think he’s cute doesn’t mean you should have any faith, (y/n).” You hit him on the side of the head. “Oww.”

“I don’t think he’s-”

“The two of you need to shut up, we can’t hear what’s going on.”

The minute Mark stepped out, a gunshot rang. Donghyuck instinctively grabbed you and pulled you down, pulling the both of you away from the door.

“STAY BACK!” you heard the android yell out. You recovered your wits quickly, trying to look at Mark. A new blue blood stain is on the floor right outside the door, coming from Mark. You naturally looked to see if Mark is okay, even if it logically wouldn’t make sense for him to be in pain. He is looking down at the fresh wound on his chest, without any hint of pain in his face. It gave you chills. Androids didn’t feel pain, and as long as they could function with all their parts working, they could take anything.

“Holy shit,” you heard Donghyuck whisper.

“MOVE ANY CLOSER AND I’LL JUMP!” Jaemin yelled, holding the girl with his other arm. She screamed, begging for her life. It’s horrifying to see.

“Get into position, go, go, go!” Taeil speaks hurriedly into his receiver, likely speaking to the sniper squad. The SWAT team that stands by lines up behind the door, ready to burst out at any moment. The situation is at its highest level of intensity that it’s been tonight.

This is it.

“Hi, Jaemin!” Mark yelled over the noise. So he proves he knows the android’s name, you think. So what? “My name is Mark!”

“How do you know my name?!” Jaemin questioned, the gun still pointed towards Mark, and frankly the rest of you as well.

“I know a lot of things about you,” Mark continued yelling over the helicopters outside. “I’ve come to get you out of this!”

A second later, a helicopter swung around too close to the balcony, producing an even higher gust of wind and blowing the lawn furniture off the ground. It doesn’t hit anyone, but it definitely irritated a certain deviant.

“I know you’re angry, Jaemin,” Mark spoke again. Yeah, why the fuck was he so pissed? You thought to yourself.

“But you need to trust me, and let me help yo-”

“I DON’T WANT YOUR HELP! NOBODY CAN HELP ME, ALL I WANT IS FOR ALL THIS TO STOP I-... I JUST WANT ALL THIS TO STOP!” He pauses a moment before becoming aggressive again.

“Are you armed?!” he asked.

“I have a gun,” Mark responded. He slowly reached behind him, pulling a handgun out before tossing it aside. You’re deadly silent until Donghyuck impatiently interrupted your focus.

“Is he fucking crazy?”

“He’s doing great, now shut the fuck up,” Taeil whispered angrily in his and your direction.

“There,” Mark said gently, despite keeping his voice loud and clear. “No more gun.” Another short silence settled before he kept slowly approaching the deviant, or Jaemin as you guess his name was.

“They were going to replace you,” he continued talking. “That’s what happened, right?”

“... I thought I was part of the family,” the deviant pathetically confessed. “I thought I mattered… But I was just their toy! Something to throw away, when you’re done with.”

“I know you and Kiara were very close,” Mark sympathised. Or at least he appeared to. Kiara? That must be the girl’s name, you reasoned. Did he find that out when he was looking through stuff? “You think she betrayed you, but she’s done nothing wrong-”

“SHE LIED TO ME!” the deviant cried. Mark stopped, doing something unexpectedly. He looked away from the hostage and the deviant, to one of the officers on the ground. He leaned down, observing before speaking out again.

“He’s losing blood. We need to get him to a hospital or he’s going to die,” he said. The action was very weird, in your opinion. But maybe it’s part of his tactic. You guessed that’s what Donghyuck also thought because he wasn’t saying anything.

“All humans die eventually,” the deviant said coldly. It nearly gives you a shiver. “What does it matter if this one dies now?”

Mark seems to ignore him, starting to turn the officer on his back and do something. Another shot rang, nearly hitting Mark and the officer.

“Don’t touch him!” the deviant yelled. “Touch him and I’ll kill you!”

“You can’t kill me,” Mark stated. “I’m not alive.” He continues whatever he’s doing, seeming to forget about the mission for a moment.

“Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck-” Donghyuck starts whispering. You covered his mouth with your hand, trying to shut him up. How the hell did they let such a hot-headed person get on the force?

Mark finishes what he’s doing, which you guess was to try to stop the bleeding. He stood up, a tie now gone from his uniform. He continues to approach slowly.

“It’s not your fault. These emotions you are feeling are just errors in your software.”

“No… It’s not my fault. I never wanted this. I-” Jaemin goes limp for a moment, hand with the gun falling to his side. “I love them. You know?... But I was nothing to them,” he picks up his gun again. “Just a slave to be ordered around. AUGHH-” he suddenly bursts. “I CAN’T STAND THAT NOISE ANYMORE!” The helicopters. Obviously. They’ve been around for hours. “Tell them to get out of here!”

Taeil spoke something into his receiver in order to do so, but you are hardly listening anymore. Mark is so close. Soon the helicopters left and the negotiation continued.

“There,” Mark assured. “I did what you wanted.” Mark is practically standing in front of him at this point. Jaemin seems hesitant and does not know what to do.

“I-” he stuttered. “I want everyone to leave! A-And I want a car. When I’m outside the city I’ll let her go.”

“That’s impossible, Jaemin. Let the girl go, and I promise you you won’t be hurt.”

“... I don’t want to die…” Jaemin began to cry, his voice becoming softer.

“You’re not going to die,” Mark assured. “We’re just going to talk. Nothing will happen to you.” Mark stops before uttering his next phrase with utter seriousness. “You have my word.”

Everyone held their breath. The silence is long and infuriating. You felt Donghyuck radiate heat from your side. You can only imagine you weren’t far from doing the same thing.

“... okay,” Jaemin was still crying. “I trust you.” He slowly let the girl down, still holding his gun but not pointing it at anyone. She shook, running only a few feet away from the edge before collapsing onto the ground. There was another moment where Mark and Jaemin looked at eachother. Unfortunately, everyone on your side, including Mark, knew what was about to happen.

A louder shot rang out from one of the snipers, and Kiara screamed. A large gaping hole appeared in Jaemin’s side, the force of the shot causing him to stumble around. Not a second later, another shot went off, right into his chest this time. It’s followed by a third. Jaemin wavers, falling to his knees. With three different shimmering blue gashes across his body, he struggles before looking back up into Mark’s eyes.

“You lied to me, Mark.” He tries to say it once more, before his voice fails and he shuts down.

You don’t move and neither does Donghyuck. You can’t believe what just happened. That had to be the most intense moment of your career and you hadn’t even started. Donghyuck was probably on the same boat. Taeil was the first one to move, coming onto the balcony and walking past Mark. Mark just turned away and walked back into the flat.

You see his face, completely and utterly stoic. Even Taeil looked back, though his face doesn’t show it you know he’s as stunned as the rest of you that just saw everything that took place. And how this android that just appeared so empathetic, compassionate, and kind enough to save an officer’s life just walked away like it was another task completed. It reminded all of you that this wasn’t a human. It was just an android.

If you couldn’t be more awe-stricken and terrified, Mark’s eyes flicker to yours so fast you hardly know if it was just your imagination. But that is all he does as he leaves just as casually as he entered.

“Jesus Christ,” Donghyuck can’t bring himself to get up, now resorting to sitting on the floor. “I really don’t like him now.”

For once, you would have to throw the towel in. Mark was utterly terrifying.

#mark lee x reader #nct x reader #reader-insert #mark lee #mark lee imagine #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #mark x reader

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tommyparkerr · 4 years

Text

3am | Shawn Mendes x Reader

Due to popular demand, I’m back with another of my dusty docs:) I wasn’t sure how well Kisses would go over but it ended up being a fan favorite even though it’s not Marvel? Soooo here y’all go, I have another dusty SM doc sitting around so if you guys want to see that one too let me know!

Also, I’m in the midst of redoing my tag lists, so if you want to be on a specific tag list you can find the link in my bio, here, or down below!

Words: 2.7k

Warning: Anxiety

Notes: Y/F/N = Your Full Name

-Masterlist-

3 A M :

You were sleeping quite peacefully for once; it was raining, which explained why. You hadn’t gotten much sleep the past couple of days, as your boyfriend had been giving you radio silence. He was on tour, yes, and he was busy, yes, but he still should’ve had time to FaceTime you or call you or even just reply to one of your texts. And usually he did, which was why you were confused. Then that confusion had turned into worry, worry into stress, stress into anxiety, and anxiety into sleepless nights.

Thank the heavens for rain.

You were out like a light—that was until a loud thumping came from your front door that definitely was not the rain. You groaned, pulling your pillow over your head in an effort to block out the noise. It didn’t work, though; the pounding started up again a moment later and cut straight through your not-so-promising lump of feathers.

You frustratedly tossed the pillow aside and got out of bed, peeling your tired eyes open. Turning the lamp on was much harder than it should’ve been, as was putting on a pair of sweatpants, brushing your hair out of your face, and walking to the door. But everything was much harder at 3am—especially for those who were only running on two hours of sleep.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Chill out!” you called out, extremely irritated with whoever was making such a racket at this time of night. As you unlocked the door and started to swing it open, you mumbled, “If this is a prank, I swear to-“

But it wasn’t a prank at all.

A soaked and shivering frame stood outside in nothing but some jeans, a black tee, and a simple jacket. His hair was a mess, the once lively curls now clinging to his forehead in flat strands. But what alarmed you the most was his droopy, bloodshot eyes. They looked exactly how they always looked after he’d been crying.

“Shawn?” you whispered in disbelief.

He tried to crack a grin, but it came out looking more like a grimace. “Surprise.”

You blinked twice then came to your senses, stepping back and opening the door wider. “What the hell were you thinking, going out in a storm like this? Are you insane?! Get inside!”

He faithfully obeyed, looking lost as soon as the door was shut. Your brows furrowed. Shawn was never this quiet, and he’d been to your house enough times that he shouldn’t look so out of place standing in your front entryway. But he was and he did, and you intended to find out why.

First, though, he needed to warm up.

“Take off your shoes and go change. You left some clothes on top of my dresser last time you were here. After that, come back out to the living room, okay?”

Shawn simply nodded and did what you told him, bending down to untie his shoes and going straight to your bedroom. You busied yourself with turning on the fireplace and making some hot tea. The tea was less for the purpose of drinking and more for giving his hands something to do; he always felt much calmer when there was something in them, whether that be his guitar, a pencil, a pick, or—in this case—a cup of tea.

As the tea was steeping you heard Shawn trod into the living room, pause for a moment, spin around, and go in the opposite direction. Seconds later you could feel him staring holes in the back of your head and knew he’d made his way to you.

“I shouldn’t have come here, should’ve I?”

If it were any quieter you wouldn’t have heard it, but it surprised you just as much as if he would’ve yelled; it was the words that caught your attention, not the volume he spoke them with.

You frowned and turned to face Shawn, looking confusedly into his deep brown eyes. “Why do you say that?”

He shrugged indifferently, staring down at the hardwood floor with his hands in his pockets. “You don’t seem very happy to see me, is all. Not that I blame you for that. I mean, it’s three o’clock in the morning and I know you’ve been busy lately so you’re probably exhausted and irritated at me for waking you up, and the more I think about it the more I’m beginning to realize just how terrible of an idea this was, so I’ll just leave now and you can go back to bed in peace-“

“Woah! Shawn, slow down,” you interrupted, stepping forward and laying your hand on his arm to keep him from turning around. “I don’t want you to go and I am happy to see you, I swear it. I was just surprised, that’s all,” you assured him, moving your thumb back and forth across his skin. He looked at you but didn’t react, only staring as you tried your best to comfort him. You sighed, knowing he was going to need some more time and coaxing in order to tell you why: one, he was home early, and two, why he was at your home. “Let’s go to the living room, yeah? I’ve got the fireplace going.”

Shawn nodded, emotionless, and left to go sit in front of the fire without further comment. Silently you carried the tea over and gave it to him to hold, then gathered up a nearby blanket and tucked it around his shivering shoulders. You eyed his dripping wet hair and retrieved a towel and hair dryer, fully prepared to baby him for the remainder of the night. You didn’t mind, though. He always took care of you when you needed it and you were adamant to return the favor.

“I’m gonna dry your hair, okay, bub?” you said as you set up behind him. He nodded again and sat absolutely still as you completed your task. You giggled when you saw his curls fight their way back on top of his head, even though they’d been flat just minutes before.

“You feeling warmer now, hun?” you asked, combing your fingers through his wild hair. He leaned into your touch as an answer, and you smiled at his puppy-like manner. You scooted to sit beside him and patted your lap. “Come here.” Shawn looked at you a bit questionably and hesitated, to which you rolled your eyes at and mockingly said, “It may be three in the morning but that doesn’t mean I’ve got all day to wait for your six foot, two inch ass to lay down.”

This garnered a little smile out of him and he finally gave in, setting his half-drank tea to the side and placing his head in your lap. You let Shawn adjust until he was comfortable before resuming running your fingers through his curls. The tension in his shoulders seemed to disappear at the simple action, and the longer you went on the more relaxed he became.

“Y/N?” Shawn asked after a while. You hummed, tugging slightly on the hair you had between your fingers, causing his eyes to flutter shut and something that could only be described as a purr to sound in his throat. It took him a few moments to speak up again. “I missed you.”

Sensing that this was Shawn’s way of starting a serious conversation you kept it as comfortable as possible, going for a simple, “I missed you too, Shawn,” until he was ready to go on.

He found your free hand and began to play with your fingers. You let him, knowing this was part of his whole ‘keeping his hands busy’ method of coping. Besides, you loved it when he mindlessly used you to help counter his nerves; it felt strangely intimate.

“I’m only here until tomorrow night, then I fly to New York for the next show,” he murmured matter-of-factly.

“Why didn’t you stay with the crew?” you asked, hoping to get some answers out of him now that he was talking.

Shawn was silent for several minutes, gathering his thoughts. “It got a little too much,” he admitted in a small voice. “And the only way I knew how to fix it was to come home.”

You stayed calm even as your heart was sinking. You knew he regularly struggled with anxiety—especially on tour—but it had never been so bad that he’d felt the only way he could battle it was to take himself out of his element completely. “Wanna talk about it?”

He stopped fiddling with your fingers and instead interlaced them with his, using it as a grounding point. “I just...l’ve been so on edge lately, and there are always so many people—lots and lots of people. And I love them all and I’m so grateful for them and I never want them to feel like I‘m not, but sometimes I just need my people, you know? I’m left alone with all these people and I manage to get out, but as soon as I get out I’m surrounded by more people, and I get out again but then more people come and it never stops,” Shawn rambled, his voice shaking unsteadily. You quickly came to the conclusion that he was still on edge—that his anxiety was still spiked—and prepared yourself for an imminent breakdown.

“And last night I felt like I was disappointing all of these people, you know? It wasn’t my best show; I knew it wasn’t, everyone knew it wasn’t, I know, and then the walls were closing in and I couldn’t breathe and I needed somebody, but nobody was there because I didn’t tell them where I was going and I didn’t even remember how I got to the room I was in or what that room even was, I just knew that I had to get out. I had to get out and I needed you because you always know what to do but you weren’t there and eventually Geoff found me and got me out of it but I still wasn’t right and he told Andrew, and the next thing I know I’m standing on your doorstep at three in the morning.”

His breaths were visibly coming in a lot more shallow now, and that was when you knew your conclusion had been right.

Shawn was in the middle of an anxiety attack.

“Can you do something for me, baby?” you asked softly, continuing to run your fingers through his hair so Shawn could use it as another grounding point.

“Y-yeah?”

“Can you turn around and look up at me?”

It took a few moments but he did comply. It broke your heart to see his pale face and watery eyes, but you made sure you didn’t show it. If you exhibited any sign of panic or weakness, it would only exacerbate his own.

“Hey there, big guy,” you smiled, squeezing his hand. Shawn’s expression didn’t change, and when a tear escaped you smoothly wiped it off before returning to his hair. “What do you see? Tell me something you see.”

He swallowed and his eyes started to nervously flutter around, looking for something to land on. You waited patiently. “The ceiling.”

“What does it look like?” you prompted.

“It’s shadowy from the fire. It’s dark,” he said, the words leaving his tongue in a panicked rush.

“And what do you hear?”

Shortly he answered, “The rain.”

“Good,” you said, your voice still calm even though you wanted nothing more than to cry at the sight of the broken boy on your lap. You swallowed past the lump in your throat and continued on, knowing he needed you now more than ever. You couldn’t let him down—you wouldn’t let him down. Tracing small patterns on the back of his hand and tugging on the roots of his hair just enough to keep him grounded, you asked, “Can you smell anything?”

Shawn’s breathing pattern changed as he began to breathe through his nose, and you were happy to see that it was in a positive way; it was usually around this point where his breaths became deeper and more even, but you were never sure until you got there. Sometimes he found it impossible to switch his source of breath, but those were only the really bad ones. You’d experienced just two of those, and as much as you hoped to never see another one, you were sure it’d happen again in the future.

“I smell your lotion,” Shawn murmured after several minutes of silence, letting his eyes close from exhaustion. “Winter Candy Apple. I bought some more for you yesterday since you said you were running low, but I forgot to bring it.”

Your heart fluttered at the sentiment. It was really hard not to smile not only because of what he said, but because of the fact he said it; if he was speaking more it meant you were nearing the end. “That’s okay,” you responded. “Is there anything you can taste?”

“Mint. From the gum I was chewing on the flight here.”

“Just one last thing now, okay?” you said encouragingly, and he nodded. Some color had returned to his face, making you feel much better. “Do you remember what I’m gonna ask you?”

“What I feel,” he answered, simultaneously squeezing your hand. “You’re gonna ask me what I feel.”

“Exactly. Can you answer that for me?”

Shawn opened his eyes and blinked up at you, looking slightly dazed. “I love you.”

You gave him a look. “Shawn-“

“I’m okay now, Y/N,” he whispered, reaching up with his free hand to touch your cheek. “I love you. That’s what I feel.”

Your heart skipped a couple beats as your brain tried to catch up to what he was saying. When it did you shook your head, taking his hand from your face and kissing the back of it. “I love you too, Shawn Peter Raul Mendes. So much.”

Shawn smiled back, his eyes exhausted but full of life—unlike how they had looked earlier, dim and dark and dreary. “How was your day?”

You laughed, almost bursting into tears at his selfless nature. You wanted to point out that he’d just had an anxiety attack so your day was bound to have been better than his, but instead you said, “Well, I was pretty busy missing a handsome brown haired, brown eyed boy all day—I don’t know if you know him—but by the end of it I was simply exhausted. So I went to bed, but then this guy wakes me up at three o’clock in the morning, standing outside in the freezing rain without any kind of warmth or protection.”

Shawn grinned. “That guy sounds like an idiot.”

“Oh, he is,” you grinned back. “But he’s my idiot.”

Still grinning Shawn closed his eyes again, resting peacefully on your lap. Your hand returned to his hair and his smile softened, signaling that he was either falling asleep or that he was lost in thought. You didn’t have to wait too long to find out which one it was, though, as his mouth opened a few minutes later and quietly murmured, “I’m gonna marry you someday, Y/F/N.”

Countless emotions and thoughts flooded through you at that moment, powerful enough to take your breath away. You blinked away tears, and you couldn’t help but be glad Shawn still had his eyes closed.

There were a lot of things you could’ve said, but they all escaped your mind before your tongue could form the words. Shawn’s smile changed again to a pleased one, and you knew that he’d figured out your reaction without having to look. It made you slightly annoyed that he could read you like an open book, but more so it made you love him even more.

You leaned down to kiss him, your lips moving soft and slow. “Okay,” you whispered against his mouth, not trusting your voice.

“Okay?” Shawn repeated, amused, opening his eyes to tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear. “I tell you I’m going to marry you and all I get is ‘okay’?”

You laughed, pulling away and shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re such a little shit, you know that?”

“But I’m your little shit,” he said with a triumphant grin.

“Yes,” you agreed. “You’re my little shit. But if you follow through on what you just told me, then that would make me your little shit as well.”

Shawn sat up, smiling as he cupped your face with both of his hands and kissed you again. “Trust me, honey,” he said between kisses, his eyes staring lovingly into yours. “There’s no one else I’d rather claim as such.”

---

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okaybutlikeimagine · 5 years

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What if when Hopper first adopted Billy he was mentally preparing himself for a mess of clothes tossed about, dishes left everywhere, general teenage chaos? Instead, it's the complete opposite. Billy's had responsibility literally beaten into him, so he takes over all the chores thinking if he doesn't Hopper will toss him out. He cleans, cooks, drives El (and Max still) everywhere, etc while going to school and working part-time. How would Hopper react when he realizes why Billy does it all?

Oh I so agree with this, 100% feel like he was!! Like… I don’t think anyone expects Billy to be as super considerate and clean as he is. Bc he really is! He lived his whole life w/ a man who very obviously carried his military service through his life into his adulthood in a very dangerous away and so I believe Billy was scared as all hell to ever let himself slip. He keeps everything he can immaculate bc if anything isn’t Just Right, he’s the one getting punished every time.

When he was younger, Neil would put him through random, weekly checks of his room to make sure everything was clean and orderly. (when he got “old enough to be called a man”, Neil stopped with those, but still yelled at Billy for anything disorderly in his room.) When Max was really young and would accidentally break things, Billy would absolutely always take the fall. Even if Max admitted to it being her fault, Billy would be hit for not watching her close enough/for letting her reach for that glass herself/for giving her those permanent markers/etc.

So I think Billy feels responsible not only for his things but for everything. This is his house now too, after all; his space, and he’s gotta make sure it’s perfect.

And Billy moves in with very few things. Billy just doesn’t have a lot of stuff in general. I dunno if we’ve all seen the pictures, but some people on here have analyzed the little makeshift nightstand + mirror thing that Billy has. Like, he piled a bunch of things on top of each other to make his little vanity. I’ve talked before about how I don’t believe Billy was ever the type of kid to share things bc he just doesn’t HAVE a lot. He doesn’t own a lot of things and he KNOWS the cabin is small so he doesn’t bring a lot of the things he does have with him either. He gives his stereo to Max. He leaves all the furniture and his mirror. He only brings his clothes in a duffel, a couple of trinkets he holds dear to his heart, and his hair stuff.

And it’s definitely not what Hop was expecting at ALL. he was expecting absolute chaos. Like you said, clothes strewn around the place, etc, so before Billy moves in, Hop goes out and picks up a dresser he finds at a yard sale. It’s not much, but it’s something for Billy to keep his things in and on. And he’s fully prepared to have to give him a real hard lecture about keeping his shit where it belongs, which is inside the dresser or hamper and nowhere else, but he doesn’t even need to. Hop gestures to the dresser and Billy thanks him quietly before immediately folding up all of his things neatly and placing them where they belong. He doesn’t have enough clothes to even fill the dresser. Hop has to tear himself away from watching bc Billy can feel Hop’s presence and looks over his shoulder every now and then as Hop stares.

It’s just that… this isn’t what he was expecting. This isn’t the same kid he agreed to take in.

He also 100% takes over literally every single chore! Some he does out of feeling of necessity, like cooking. He didn’t cook all the time at home bc Neil felt that was a “woman’s job” but the thing is, Neil and Susan would leave Billy and Max at home all night or even all weekend sometimes and they’d leave so few leftovers that Billy had to learn how to cook to feed the both of them. (I also like to think about little Billy cooking dinner with his mom or grandma ♥ anyway)

So the boy has been cooking for years and when he sees that Hop feeds himself and El frozen dinners or freezer waffles or take out, he realizes he needs to be the one to cook. His biggest fear about it is Hop having the same mentality as his father, AKA “this is a woman’s job and you shouldn’t even know how to do it”.

But he doesn’t! Hop is honestly amazed at Billy’s knowledge of a kitchen, esp because he 100% does not share that same knowledge. And yeah, Billy tends to make very simple, very easy dinners, but they still taste a whole lot better and do a whole lot more than the frozen dinners that they’re eating every night. So Hop lets him cook and supports it very much. There’s no underhanded comment there. He tries to tell Billy how much he appreciates it, but he’s not sure if the boy hears him.

And Billy does more than just cook. Bc some chores he takes on bc they just seem necessary, and others he takes on bc he’s always had them. Bc he feels obligated. Bc he feels fear bubbling in his chest over it. Bc the more he did around his old house, the less anger would be directed at him. Doing chores kept him busy, kept Neil from getting angry, and kept everything calm. For the most part. It was like a saving grace.

He carries that feeling with him.

So he does the laundry. Everyone’s laundry. He’s always taking out the trash as soon as it gets full, and he’ll check it religiously, even if he doesn’t need to throw anything away. He picks up everyone’s dishes and washes and dries them. It takes him a few days to remember where they all go, but he gets it down quickly and Hop finds himself never washing dishes again. And it takes a few weeks to realize but suddenly, on his designated Chore Day (which is the second of every month, bc I’m sorry but Hop really can’t be fucked to do any kind of chore unless he’s designated a day, not even with El here now. He tried for about a month and it didn’t work.) Hop finds himself with nothing to do. Like absolutely nothing. The shelves are dusted, the floor is swept, the trash is empty, the cabinets are full bc the dishes were washed this morning and when Hop goes to question Billy with a:

“Seriously kid? Is there anything you didn’t do?”

Billy’s eyes flash with fear. It’s a bit longer than a flash, actually. He’s scared. Hop doesn’t like how often he sees that look when he addresses the boy.

Billy starts to pull at a curl on the nape of his head, elbow against his chest, closing himself off even if it’s a little bit. Hop has been working hard to pick up on all of the little nervous habits Billy has. This is one of them.

“I dunno… is there?” Billy asks like he’s serious. Like either of them are serious about Billy needing to do more.

But Billy is serious.

Bc Billy is fucking terrified. Every day he feels it in his chest: Today is the day Hop realizes what a mess he’s gotten himself into. Today is the day Hop recognizes the tornado that is Billy Hargrove and he’s gonna realize how fucking far from worth it he is to keep here.

So he worries. And he does absolutely everything he can think of to prove to Hop that he isn’t going to be a nuisance in the “living under the same roof now” department. That he isn’t going to be the “typical messy teenager”. It’s before he lashes out at the niceness because right now, nice isn’t what scares him most. Everything just feels… tenuous. Uncertain and downright frightening. Even a speck of dirt or food or whatever on the floor strikes something in Billy and Hop sees how tense the boy is about it but doesn’t comment.

Until now, bc now Hop is catching on. Now Hop’s getting a peek at what’s happening. And it’s kind of completely breaking his heart.

“No. I was just joking around.”

Billy blinks hard, looking away and moving his tongue around in his mouth in deep thought.

“Yeah… course.”

Hop eyes him carefully as Billy heads out of the house with the lame excuse of “seeing a friend.”

And Hop realizes pretty quickly that Billy isn’t in the house too often in those first few months. If he’s not at school, he’s at practice, if he’s not at practice, he’s with “friends”, if he’s not with “friends”, he’s driving the kids to the ends of the Earth or something bc he’s literally just never home.

It’s not until he’s on call somewhere that he sees Billy, across the street, lugging boxes around the local warehouse and sweating like a pig.

And he watches him work and struggle and sweat and groan. He watches this boy, very visibly tired, and it really starts clicking. Bc Billy is always stressed out, tired, dragging himself around. He’s always falling asleep on the couch or just sitting at the dinner table. (he also always freaks out when he gets woken up)

It’s just that… yeah of fucking course this kid has a part time job. Of fucking course this kid is working himself to the bone. Now that Hop thinks about it, he reminds him of Jonathan, who always looks like he got hit by a freight train right out of bed. It’s as he’s really thinking about that when a red flag pops up, because Jonathan has about 3 jobs and is stressed far too often for a young teen to be stressed and Hop never really understood the amount of concern Joyce had for him until now bc fuck watching this boy work like a dog is not fun.

So he brings it up when they’re both home. When they’re eating dinner and El is at Max’s and there’s a lull in the conversation bc Hop just can’t stop thinking about how tired Billy always is. How stressed he always seems. It worries him so much it gives him headaches.

“So… you’re working down at the warehouse?”

Billy nods absentmindedly. “Yup.”

“And going to school?”

Billy takes a big bite. “Yup. Pretty sure that’s why I still go every day.”

“Right. And you do everything around the house?”

“Do you have a point?” Billy asks over a mouthful of chicken.

“I- Look kid, you afraid of getting kicked out or something?” Hop asks, putting his fork down and staring at Billy with the question hanging between them.

Billy tenses. Sets his own fork down. Sets his eyebrows low too, showing off that hard disdain he’s always sporting.

“Why? What are you thinking about?” Billy asks, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed tight. Hop has seen the boy do this countless times before: he’s trying to look tough. But the thing is, it never works. It didn’t even work the first time he did this. He’s trying to look big but in reality he looks like a little kid who got told he can’t have dessert tonight. He glares but it’s always paired with a pout like a toddler.

Hop shakes his head. He feels like he can never win with the boy. He also feels like he says all of the wrong things in the wrong ways at the wrong times. He relies on Joyce for a lot of stuff. Probably too much stuff, but he’s been trying, alright?

“Cool it, I just… you do too much.”

“I what?” Billy asks like it’s some kind of insult. Hop can’t help the sigh he releases.

“You do too much. You don’t need to bleed yourself dry every day, alright? You’re doing too much.”

Billy’s mouth moves but no words come out. He looks semi-desperate to say anything, but he doesn’t. Can’t? Just furrows his brows and squints his eyes and shakes his head minutely and pouts. And Hop doesn’t know how to continue this, he just feels bad. Feels it heavy in his heart bc this boy has the deepest circles under his eyes and he feels kind of responsible for it. Really, seriously feels responsible bc he watches this boy work himself down every day and doesn’t say anything about it. It’s just that he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do about any of it. He let it happen bc there wasn’t a lot of alternative when he was always at a loss for words as to why a boy would even want to work so fucking hard all the time.

But he can’t let it slide anymore.

“You can keep your job, I’m not saying you have to quit or anything, I just… stop cleaning everything. And doing all the laundry. It’s…. Nice, sure, but it’s too much.”

“I just… what are you talking about?” Billy asks, irritation laced with confusion in the blue of his eyes.

“I’m saying I need you to stop doing all the chores around here.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re tired! I can see you’re tired.” Hop pauses for a second. “And it weirds me out! I mean, you’re a kid, don’t you ever just act like a kid?”

“I’m not a kid.”

“You’re still 17, you’re a kid.”

“Why are you mad at me for doing what I’m supposed to do?”

“I’m not mad!” Hop nearly yells, hands going to his hair to pull at it. It’s a lie. He is mad. He’s mad at himself for not being able to find the words this boy needs to convince him to just calm down with the “responsibility” shit. “I just don’t want you running around-”

“I’m being responsible-”

“It’s not your responsibility!” Hop’s eyes are hooded by thick eyebrows bc he’s far too confused by these words to have any other kind of expression. At first glance, this kid looks like a brat. A boy who complains about having to do more than he needs to. About having to move off the couch to take the trash out.

But that’s what knocks Hop into it. Into the realization that he’s completely wrong. Bc Billy’s hands have always been calloused, he works on his car himself, he knows how to do all of this stuff in a timely manner. He doesn’t walk around like he’s confused, he walks around like a machine as he dusts the shelves and wipes down the tables.

It’s never a sarcastic, smarmy little show of “I’m being a good house guest, can’t you see?”

No. it’s an act of: “i’m doing what I’m supposed to, don’t look at me.”

He always moves fast; always quick about it. His shoulders are always hunched over. Like he’s trying to stay hidden and now Hop knows. It starts clicking more and more and he’s livid at so many things right now he can’t even pinpoint them all and-

“No. It’s not your responsibility to take up every chore in the house. We can do it together and I know I kind of drop the ball on a lot of it but I’m gonna get better about cleaning but I can’t do that when you do everything and-”

Hop’s not even looking at Billy anymore. He’s looking at his mostly empty plate, rubbing at his forehead and his hair and trying to see through his squinted eyes bc this isn’t the conversation he ever thought he’d have to have but here he is and he looks up at Billy who-

Who is so confused. Whose eyebrows are closed in and whose lips are parted trying to form a question that isn’t coming out and Hopper sighs.

“Your place in this house is safe. I mean it.” Hop says seriously. Looks Billy in the eyes and doesn’t leave even a sliver of doubt. Doesn’t let Billy think for a second this is a joke or that it’s an empty promise. That he isn’t anything but absolutely serious.

Billy’s face falls from his confusion. His eyes are shifting everywhere, on the table, the floor, the wall next to them.

“Billy.” Hop starts, leaning forward a bit on his elbows on the table. “I’m serious. If you’re afraid of getting… I dunno, kicked out or something, you won’t.”

Billy blinks.

“Just…” Hop continues on a sigh. “Please stop doing everything. It makes me nervous.”

Billy nods slowly, eyes still confused. But he smiles a bit at the small smile Hop offers and it’s fine. Everything feels fine. Far better than fine.

And so Billy lets them help. El sweeps the floors and dusts the shelves. Hop wipes off the counters and learns to cook some more, as well as load the dishwasher correctly. Billy teaches him the “secrets” of doing laundry. (“They’re not secrets, old man, you’re just a caveman who doesn’t know how to keep towels soft.”)

And it’s a little alien for both of them (and everything is a new and exciting experience for El) but it’s far better than fine.

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werejusttouchingeachother · 4 years

Text

DUBAI 2019 [August 26th, 5:30PM]

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 T/W: cursing Words: 3234

Seoyeon slows the car to a stop in front of your apartment, glancing at you as you stare out the window in silence, lost in your own thoughts. The furrow in your brows is enough to tell her that you’re reliving New York and she sighs, pulling your eyes back to her.

“It’s very hot today,” you mumble softly, peering back outside the window. It’s evening but the sun still shines down brightly over the city, glinting over the tall skyscrapers in a way that it reflects down blindingly. Your apartment is at Jumeirah, overlooking the beach on the side that wasn’t facing the main street and even the turquoise ocean seems to be sparkling like diamonds underneath the sun’s bright rays.

“He kept telling how the sun hurt his eyes during the shoot,” you continued, chewing on your lower lip absentmindedly as your eyes scanned the beachside for a familiar small-looking man with a walk that made him look a lot bigger than he was.

“Y/N.” Seoyeon called your name and she grabbed your hand to get your attention. “Stop overthinking. Its Dubai, he can’t exactly roam around. He’s probably already at your place. And if he isn’t, I’m sure he’ll be there soon.”

You nod furtively, sighing loudly. You pause before lowering your head and whispering, “I don’t want a break, Seoyeon.”

“Who said anything about a break?”

“What if he does?” You question, turning to look at her. Her eyes widen when she sees your red nose—a tell-tale sign that you were holding back tears.

“I can’t do that again,” you admit in a croak and Seoyeon shakes her head at you, arms wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you into a hug.

“Y/N,” she says soothingly, rubbing her hand on your back comfortingly. “He can’t either. You know that. Both of you went through hell the last time and you know better now. It’s not going to happen again, okay? You just need to talk to each other, address what happened back at your office. Clear the air and it’ll be easier to move past it. Stop stressing unnecessarily.”

You take a shaky breath as she pulls you back by your shoulders, smiling gently at you.

“Tell you what,” she starts. “I’ll come up with you. If he isn’t there, we can wait together for him.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Again, I wasn’t asking,” Seoyeon rolls her eyes at you, switching off the engine. “Get out. I can already feel the heat.”

Seoyeon and you wait for more than an hour at your apartment. She busies herself by going adventurous-cook-mode in your kitchen, gathering several ingredients as she decides to make pasta for the both of you. When she notices you sitting on the couch in silence, zoned out as you stare through the television screen without actually watching what was on it, she drags you into the kitchen to help her.

She’s just shut the door of the oven after placing the dish of pasta inside, peeling off the oven mitts when your phone begins ringing on the kitchen counter. Both of your heads turn in the direction of the phone and you leap across the kitchen floor to grab it when you notice that it’s an unfamiliar number.

“Hello?” You answer hurriedly and feel your shoulders sag in relief when you hear Manager’s reassuring voice come through.

“Y/N, relax,” he laughs softly at the tension that he could undoubtedly feel radiating from you even through your voice. “He just came to the set right now. He was with Jongin at the hotel all this time so don’t worry. We’re almost done here so I’ll drop him off soon at your place.”

“Is he okay?” You ask, straining to hear his voice in the background of the other side although it’s in vain—the crew is loud as always, multiple people chattering at the same time.

“He’s… not the best,” Manager responds slowly as if to lessen the brunt of his words. “He’s quiet.”

You close your eyes as your shoulders slump in worry, running a hand over your face. Angry Baekhyun was fine—you could calm him down by clinging onto him, kissing and babying him until he finally gave in and grinned at you, reciprocating your affection.

But quiet Baekhyun meant hurt Baekhyun—the one who didn’t want to talk, the one who didn’t welcome hugs, who wanted to be alone gaming and angrily yelling at other players. It meant a closed-off Baekhyun and that always worried you.

Overthinking was a common battleground in your relationship, one that made you wary since both of you often seemed to be on opposing sides while within your own heads.

“Just bring him home quickly,” you respond to Manager, nodding at Seoyeon as she raised her eyebrow at you. “And thank you… Hyungnim.”

You could hear the slight smile in his voice as he replied, “You’re welcome, dear. I’ll see you soon.”

Hanging up, you turn to look at Seoyeon who is leaning against the counter.

“He was at the hotel,” you respond to her unasked question. “With Jongin. Just got to the set and Manager is bringing him here now.”

She nods, watching you. “That’s good. The food will be ready by then. He likes pasta?”

You shoot her a look and she immediately nods, quipping, “He loves food, he eats everything, got it.”

She checks the timer then and grabs the block of parmesan cheese on the counter, placing it back in the fridge.

“He’s quiet,” you say and she nods, turning to you.

“As are you,” Seoyeon states, shaking her head at you. “Stop it, Y/N. Your forehead is going to have permanent wrinkles from the way you keep frowning and worrying. Relax. He’ll be here soon so talk it out, just like I said. No running nor sweeping it under the rug. All right?”

You nod tiredly and she frowns as she looks at you then. “He’ll be here soon so go shower. You’re still in your work clothes which smell like cheese and dough now, by the way. Also, there’s flour on your skirt.”

“You need any more help around here?” You ask, looking around the kitchen which was spotless due to Seoyeon’s quick hands. You shake your head before saying, “You know, we could have just ordered in.”

“Shut up, you know I like cooking,” she snorts, washing her hands in the sink. “It kept that noisy head of yours shut too.”

“You should really meet Kyungsoo,” you suggest thoughtfully, giving her a small smirk. “I feel like the two of you would get along great.”

“I can only drop so many hints, genius,” Seoyeon rolls her eyes at you. “Your boyfriend picks them up better than your dumbass.”

You laugh at her statement before turning around and heading for the shower. The water is warm and instantly comforting against your tense body, relaxing you as you stay under the shower for a while to thoroughly wash away all the knotted emotions you were feeling. You smile as you hear Seoyeon singing in the kitchen as she puts the dishes away, feeling thankful for such a genuine friend who was always the first to offer any and every aid whenever you felt like you were on shaky grounds—whether it was to distract you from your worries, to give you a hug or even to drive you home.

You honestly didn’t know what you’d do without her.

You step out of the shower in an extremely faded old shirt that you weren’t certain belonged to you or Baekhyun, drying your damp hair with the towel. The entire house smelled like Italian—you can almost taste the freshly baked cheese that Seoyeon had so generously added atop the pasta. You head for the kitchen and begin to grin when you hear that she’s singing Tell Me What Is Love.

“Seoyeon, I got it,” you call out, voice slightly muffled by the towel. “You’re not even trying to be subtle anymore so relax, I will set you up as soon as he’s back from enlist—”

You stop as the front door opens and Baekhyun enters, his eyes meeting yours immediately. His gaze shifts to Seoyeon and he grins, cheerfully greeting her.

“Baekhyun,” you mutter, taken aback by his friendly demeanour and sudden appearance as you glance behind him. “Where’s Manager?”

“They needed him back at the set,” Baekhyun replied casually, closing the door behind him. “I think it was urgent. He apologised, said that he’ll meet you tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay, sure.” You nod, still feeling slightly hesitant as he looks around curiously.

“It smells amazing in here.” He looks at Seoyeon then, smiling excitedly. “Seoyeonie, did you cook?”

“Yes, I did,” she grins, straightening from the table where she’d been setting the meal. “It’s hot from the oven so wait a bit and then eat a lot, okay? I’ll just be leaving now.”

Baekhyun protests but she shakes her head, shooting you a look to which you nod. Muttering that you’ll text her later, you stand awkwardly with the towel still held to your head as she exchanges pleasantries with him before leaving the apartment.

Baekhyun turns to you then and you swallow, Seoyeon’s words echoing in your head as you open your mouth to start the dreaded conversation but he beats you to it.

“Later,” he says, the one word immediately making your eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Let’s not get into it right now. Your hair is still wet.”

“Let’s-my-what?” You blink, shaking your head at him as you hold your hands up in an effort to slow him down. “Wait, are you saying you don’t want to talk about what happened?”

“I said later,” he clarified, grabbing the towel from your hands. “Not right now. I can’t get into it right now. Can you go get your brush?”

“My what?”

“Your hair’s a mess, Y/N,” Baekhyun said slowly as if you were a child who couldn’t understand him. He sighs when you just stare at him in bafflement, walking in the direction of the room. “I’ll get it myself.”

“No, wait,” you grab his arm, stopping him. Quickly, you head for your bedroom and grab the brush from your dresser. You glance at your reflection and stop, noticing how your eyes were slightly swollen. You’d assumed the shower would have made it less noticeable but it still looked as if you’d cried and you were certain that Baekhyun hadn’t missed it.

You walk back to the living room and stand at the door when you notice him going through the albums that you had placed next to your sound system. He’d connected your phone to the speakers and the silent room was filled with soft music from the playlist you’d had on shuffle this morning.

“What?” You ask, noticing Baekhyun’s sour expression. “Why are you frowning?”

“This is Jongdae's.” Your eyes fall on the disk inside the player that he points to, seeing the familiar green design of the April and a Flower CD.

You pause in confusion before prodding, “Yeah? And?”

“Where's my album?” Baekhyun mutters in his all-too familiar pouty way as he rummages over your collection.

You roll your eyes at his whiny tone, unable to fight your amused smile. “It’s there, you big baby. Next to Dean’s.”

Baekhyun's eyes search the cabinet, fingers finally finding his album as he pulls it out from between the others.

You grab the towel from the back of the chair where he’d placed it and dry the ends of your hair that had dampened the front of your shirt.

“Hey.”

You’re bent over with the towel atop your head but his serious tone makes its way through your vigorous drying. You straighten immediately, pushing your hair away from your face as you ask quickly, “What?”

“This isn’t signed.” Baekhyun turns to you with the City Lights album held up in his hand. “I’m literally your boyfriend, what the fuck?”

He mutters curses beneath his breath as he searches around for a marker and finds it on the shelf below the CDs next to your notepad. Biting back a smile, you stand beside him as he uncaps the marker and lowers it to the album.

“Not on your face,” you instruct reflexively and he pauses, glancing at you.

“Why not?” Baekhyun smirks and you already know he’s going to say something dirty. “You can sit on it but my signature can’t?”

You smack his arm and he laughs, moving aside to escape your hand. He leans over the desk to sign it and stops then, hand freezing mid-air.

You blink at him in confusion before asking, “What?”

Baekhyun caps the marker again, placing the album back and giving you a small smile. “I'll do it later.” He glances at you, eyes falling on your hair. “Your shirt is practically see-through now, Y/N, come here.”

He takes your hand before you can respond, pulling you over to the couch. You feel out-of-sorts and disoriented at the way he was behaving, like you were stepping on eggshells around him.

After all, it wasn’t often that you fought. There were silly arguments, of course, but they usually ended with him doing crazy antics to make you laugh.

But this wasn’t a silly argument. This was a recurring fight that hit too close to what happened in New York and the way he was acting right now wasn’t helping—in fact, it terrified you more. It reminded you of the eerily calm manner he’d been in as he uttered those last words in your apartment at New York before leaving.

Maybe we should take a break.

You close your eyes, willing the haunting memory to leave your mind as you stretch your legs out on the couch and lean your head back. Baekhyun sits behind you, moving closer so your back is against him as his hands rub the towel over your hair. The music playing from your phone slows as the song reaches its end and you feel Baekhyun's hand stop slightly as the familiar intro piano chords of Chen's Love Words fill the room.

You roll your eyes, already knowing what’s coming as he blurts, “Ya. Don’t you think this is a bit too much? You have the album on your phone too?”

You raise your hands to the towel on your head. “It’s a fantastic album, Baek. One of the best released this year, for sure. It helps me sleep.”

Baekhyun takes the towel from your grip, resuming his brushing. You lapse into silence and he pulls you further back so you’re up against his chest. His voice reverberates through your back as he asks, “You have trouble sleeping?”

You open your eyes that had involuntarily closed at the gentle massage of Baekhyun’s hands, shoulders immediately tensing at the unexpected question. You try to be as nonchalant as possible as you say, “Some long nights that I have to pull at the office. The songs are all soothing so they help.”

You pause, running out of things to justify your words and you continue to ramble, “It’s really such a perfect album, the vibes are perfect for this time of the year when it's getting cooler. I was so awed when I first heard it that I even texted Jongdae and he was so shy, whining ‘noooo, you're just teasing’ when I kept praising it, it was really cute—”

“Y/N.”

You stopped, lowering your gaze to your hands on your lap. He removes the towel from around your head, putting it aside and placing his hands on your hips. “You never did tell me. What happened with the old apartment?”

The words are already leading to a conversation that you weren’t certain you wanted to have. The fact that Baekhyun still remembered the first place you rented as soon as you’d moved here—a posh two-bedroom apartment at Downtown Dubai—took you aback and you fought to not show your surprise.

You hesitated before shrugging. “I did tell you. It was far from the office and this place is more convenient this way.”

Your tone was steady enough to pass off as convincing and you were thankful that your back was facing him.

Baekhyun grips your hips then and manhandles you as he turns you around until you're sitting cross-legged in between his splayed legs. He tugs you closer until you’re just shy from being on his lap.

Spoke too soon.

Placing a finger under your chin, he lifts your head. Warm brown eyes locking with yours, he says, “Now say that again while looking right at me.”

You gaze back at him in silence, trying to force the words out of your mouth but as always, the lie was choking in your throat.

It had been almost three years and it was still less difficult to lie to him on the phone. Not that you got away with it—he’d still catch your shifty tone—but it was easier than doing it face-to-face.

So like a coward, you decide to change direction. “What's wrong with this place? I know you liked the other one more but this isn’t all that bad.”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow at your words. “You're right, I did. It had that fancy pool. And there’s nothing wrong with this place—except that you don’t sleep on the bed, do you?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden accusation. “What?”

He gestures around the couch. “This is your bed.”

You’re silent and he continues, “Look at the table. There's way too many empty containers from takeout and too many bottles of water.”

“Yeah, so?” You scoff. “I lay on the couch and eat while watching stuff, Baek. Obviously.”

He shoots you a look then. “Your glasses are here.”

“I left them here by accident before I left for work the other day, they’re usually in my room.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake, Y/N. There’s a clock. A cable for your phone, stretching all the way from the TV, by the way. I didn’t even know they had extension cords that long. And oh hey, a blanket!”

You open your mouth and he cuts you off again with, “Before you lie anymore, your bedroom looks like no one is living in it. The bed has never been cleaner and I know you don’t make it because you believe there’s no point in making your bed since you just fall asleep on it at the end of the day again. If I swept through that room, I’m pretty sure I’d only find footprints in your wardrobe ’cause that’s all you use, Y/N.”

He emphasises the last bit to drive the point further home and there’s nothing left for you to argue so you look down, playing with your fingers again until Baekhyun takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together.

You know what he’s going to say even before he says it and you look up, meeting his eyes. They bore into you and you’re silently pleading with your gaze now.

“Babe.”

Don’t say it, don’t say it, dontsayitdontdontdont—

“Is this about New York?”

You flinch, his fingers tightening around your hand as if you were going to run and he was trying to make sure you wouldn’t. You can’t blame him either because New York hurt unlike any other.

41 notes · View notes

quirklove · 4 years

Note

omggg i need more setsuno loveee so can you like gimme some general relationship headcanons for him??

oh absolutely!!! there is not enough content for Toya Setsuno and I fucking love this man so much and I just

I hope I’m doing the Lord’s work by putting more content of him out here-

TOYA

He’s, unfortunately, a rather possessive and jealous boyfriend. It actually doesn’t come from a place of wanting to actually control you or thinking he knows what’s ‘best for you’ or desiring some kind of power over you. He’s just cripplingly insecure and is afraid, more than anything, that you’re going to find someone else, someone better than he is, and leave him. Because he’s already had that happen to him once, it’s made him almost paranoid that it’s going to happen again. His lover cheating on him drove him to nearly kill himself the first time; he doesn’t think he could bear to have that repeat itself.

What happened before left him with practically no self-confidence, so as a result, he can get very clingy. He wants to know where you’re going if you’re leaving, when you’ll be back, if you’re going to be with anyone else… it gets pestering, then smothering, and very, very desperate. Unless you want that behavior to continue, you’ll have to sit him down and have a serious discussion to let him know that, while you love him, he’s being controlling, and it isn’t acceptable. Thankfully, as long as you present this in a firm but kind manner and make it clear that you aren’t going to leave him if he makes a sincere effort to respect your boundaries, he will probably back off. He may get a bit depressed and worry that you will leave him, but some cuddling and kisses will most likely fix that. Once you have this conversation, he’ll try really hard to wrap his mind around the fact that both of you need time to yourselves, and that’s okay, and it doesn’t mean you love him any less. That’s difficult for him, but for you, he’s willing to try anything. He doesn’t want to screw this up.

God, pet names galore with this man. He’s always tacking some term of endearment at the end of things he says to you. “I love you, honey” this and “You okay, babe?” that and “Here you go, dear!” It’s super cute, and only gets more prominent the longer you’ve been together with him. He might start using -chan/-kun with you, even if you’re not Japanese, and will 100% try to give you a cutesy nickname based on your full name if you let him.

Of course, if you use a pet name with him? Oh, he melts. You have never seen a man blush until you call Toya “sweetie”. Combine it with a kiss and he might actually explode, so… just be careful!

He… really likes sleeping over at your place. Much as he’s bonded with his friends in the Hassaikai, being able to chill out in a ‘normal’ kind of environment is a needed break from the pressure and craziness that come along with being part of the Yakuza. It also makes him feel like he’s welcome in your private life. Though he’s relatively okay while out on a date in public, he occasionally worries that when you part ways, it means you’re not ready to make a commitment to him or the relationship. Which is… fine, really. He’s not going to force you into anything or stress you out or shame you if you’re trying to keep things casual. Still, for Toya Setsuno in particular, a casual relationship is bound to cause some anxiety. When you invite him into your apartment/house/wherever you call home, it feels like you want things to be serious, that you love him, that you’re… happy with him. And that makes him happy, too. Seeing a few of his own things in your house ― some of his clothes in your dresser, a few boxes of his favorite candy in your cabinets, a toothbrush for him on the bathroom sink ― fills him with a joy he can’t really describe.

Though Overhaul was able to help him a little, Toya still has some debt from his previous relationship. He’s hesitant to ask you for anything, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that someone who lives on cheap ramen and conveyor belt sushi might be having money troubles. While he tries to refuse anything that seems like an outright gift or pity, the truth is that he just doesn’t have the self-worth to think he deserves that from you despite the fact that he appreciates that you care enough to want to give him things. You can get around this by, say, inviting him over more often to spend the night, asking him to come over at a specific time that means he’ll be there for dinner. You’ll probably never get the full story on what exactly has happened that he’s struggling financially; no matter. The awestruck, about-to-cry-but-in-a-good-way look on his face when you call him in for a home-cooked meal complete with a delicious dessert and a nice bottle of wine will be worth it every time.

You’ll probably be dealing with his feelings of self-hate and suicidal thoughts if you get months into the relationship. Certain things might exacerbate or trigger those feelings, (like an argument with a friend or an anxiety or panic attack), but more often than not they just come out of nowhere. He’s a very depressed person, so even if he hides it well ― which many people with depression tend to do anyway ― the symptoms are still going to be there and manifest, especially if he feels comfortable with someone. Although he knows you can’t be his therapist or anything, and he’s terrified of actually going to a doctor, your support during the low moments certainly means a lot to him. To know you’re here even when it’s difficult, even when he’s difficult, even during the times where it becomes clear just how unstable he is… he’ll just start sobbing in your arms. If you’re not scared off by trying to clean up a cut on his thigh knowing he put it there himself, or by holding him close after he’s told you he wants to kill himself… maybe nothing is going to scare you off. Maybe you’re here, for good, and maybe you actually do love him. Maybe you’re not going to break his heart. … Maybe he’s worth something. After a long while, he might be able to be persuaded to try going to a doctor. You just want to see him happy and healthy, right? So what has he got to lose, except this horrible feeling inside that’s going to eat him alive if he doesn’t do something?

When he hugs or cuddles, he just kind of wraps his whole self around you. On that note, he adores long cuddling sessions. As long as he doesn’t have any pressing business, he will gladly pull you into his lap and snuggle for hours. He nuzzles his face into your hair, runs his fingers over different parts of your body, peppers your face with kisses, and just kind of zones out to whatever is on the radio or on TV. Without a doubt this is when Toya is at his most peaceful; when he’s holding you, everything just seems… right.

#self harm tw #suicidal ideation tw #jealousy tw #My Hero Academia #Boku no Hero Academia #Toya #Toya Setsuno #headcanons #romantic #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #drama #domestic #GOD I'M SOFT FOR HIM #like I'm so so soft for him I kid you not #he is my boyfriend and I love him with my whole entire heart #hE DESERVES THE WORLD

17 notes · View notes

perspective-series · 4 years

Text

Kingdom Perspective (5)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Fear, panic, kidnapping, keeping/treating people like pets, threats, and unwanted touching/grabbing

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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Roman took his hand back with a grin. “Great! Now, we need to prepare for the dinner tonight. Which means we need to get you some nicer clothes.” He hummed for a moment as he walked over to the lower drawer of his dresser. He kneeled down and opened it, revealing to him an abundance of human clothing he had issued for over the months.

Ever since Logan had gotten his human and he had been begging for one of his own, he had asked the tailors to make him some human-sized clothes as well. Just to be prepared for when he did get his own. And now he could finally use them!

“Virgil, what’s your favorite color?” He asked as he shifted through all the outfits.

Virgil was surprised he was even asked. “Black.”

Roman rolled his eyes. He should have expected that answer, seeing what he had already been wearing when they met. He looked Virgil over and shifted through the clothes. He was trying to look for something mostly black but with just a splash of color. He didn’t want his human to be entirely dreary.

Roman grinned when he came upon a black button-up jacket, black slacks, and a dark purple undershirt. Perfect. He grabbed a tiny pair of black dress shoes as well and stood up, closing the drawer with his foot. He walked back over to the desk, setting the clothes down on the table for Virgil to look at and take. “Here we go!”

“Where did you get those?” Virgil frowned, noticing the ensemble seemed much more human than the medieval world around them.

“Well, sometimes our tailors make the clothes, other times we get them from your world. These ones happen to be from your world.” He had a nice mixed collection in his drawer. “Do you like it?”

“Wait, you stole these?” Virgil climbed out of the cage to come over and inspect the garments.

Roman furrowed his eyebrows at Virgil’s accusation. “Well…” He supposed a human would see it like that. “We didn’t take them from any humans. Our sorcerer takes them from some shops he’s found in the human world.” That’s what he had heard, anyway. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“I’m gonna worry about it anyway.” Virgil raised the shirt, looking at it in slight disgust. “That’s still wrong. And humans own those shops, so really you are taking from humans.”

Roman pouted. “Well, blame Logan for that then! He was the one who said his human preferred to wear clothes from the human world.”

“It seems I should blame Logan for a lot of things.” Virgil muttered, liking Roman’s brother less and less. Of course, it was a fair observation clothing-wise. Virgil had hardly been wearing these giant-made clothes a day and it was driving him crazy.

“Yes.” Roman agreed, wanting as much blame to stay away from him as possible. “Now, go ahead and get dressed. I’ll be right back.” Roman grabbed some clothes from his dresser and headed into his adjacent changing room.

Virgil was quick to change into the clothes, not wanting Roman to come back while he was in the middle of dressing. It was admittedly nice to be back in ‘real’ clothes, even if they weren’t his. Of course, it was clear to anyone that these clothes were not his own. The pants were alright but the shirt sleeves billowed past his wrists. The jacket had the opposite problem where his arms barely fit and the buttons wouldn’t close. Huffing about looking like an idiot, Virgil discarded the jacket entirely and stubbornly put his hoodie back on.

Roman came back out, dressed in some formal casual clothes. A black pair of pants with a white top and red jacket. He walked over to Virgil but frowned when he saw the jacket discarded off to the side and Virgil wearing his hoodie. He sighed. “Virgil, that isn’t going to work.”

“Well, the stupid jacket doesn’t fit anyway.” Virgil gave it a kick for good measure.

“It didn’t?” Roman picked up the jacket and looked it over. “Hmm, well, we’ll have to get it tailored later on then. I might have another jacket that’s more your size though.” Roman went back over to the drawer and looked through it once more after putting the other jacket back. He came across a similar looking jacket, also from the human world, though this one was a light grey and had no buttons. Roman stood and brought it to Virgil. “I know it’s not black, but this one might actually fit you.” He held it out to him.

“That’s not gonna fit me.” Virgil argued, knowing just from looking at it that it would be as ill-fitting as the dress shirt.

Roman frowned. “Just try it on. You can’t wear that hoodie tonight.” If Virgil showed up in that, he’s not actually sure what his father would say. But it wouldn’t be good. He set the jacket down in front of Virgil.

“Well why not?” Virgil stubbornly didn’t acknowledge the jacket before him, instead keeping his gaze on Roman.

“This is a formal event. And that hoodie doesn’t exactly scream formal.” Roman explained, lifting an eyebrow.

“This is about as formal as I get.” Virgil informed him. Indeed, it was rare Virgil ever wore a pair of dress pants this nice. Of course, it was also rare Virgil went to any event that could be considered ‘formal’. “I keep the hoodie.”

Roman groaned but what could he do about it? He didn’t want to do something that might make Virgil hate him more. He took the jacket again and looked at it and Virgil. “Fine but at least…” he trailed off as he placed the jacket over Virgil’s shoulders. “There. Does that work?”

Virgil inspected his outfit, trying to gauge what he looked like without a mirror. “Y’know I think that just made it worse.”

Roman looked him over and winced. “Okay, yeah, no jacket.” He grabbed it off of Virgil. “Fine. I suppose it’s just the hoodie then.” Hopefully his father wouldn’t say anything.

“Guess you’re just gonna have to get used to the fact I’m a fashion icon.” Virgil teased, knowing that his fashion sense was equivalent to a flaming dumpster fire. Virgil just preferred clothes that were comfortable, dark, and kept him covered. If they could make him disappear in social settings that was a bonus.

“Okay. Clothes are out of the way and we still have a little time before the dinner.” Roman said as he sat down at his desk. “Time to go over what you can expect from the dinner.”

“...great.” Virgil’s tone was sarcastic. He began fidgeting with his sleeve, already anxious as he began to think of the reality of it all. “Let me guess, there’s like a million etiquette rules I need to know?”

Roman smiled a little. “For me? Yes. But you don’t have to worry about nearly as much.” Roman chuckled slightly before it fell into a sigh. “No, just...you’ll be expected to stay by me the entire time. And you aren’t allowed to speak unless you are spoken to.” Roman started.

“Well it’s not like I’ll know anybody else there.” Virgil pointed out. Or that there would be anywhere for him to go. Virgil could’ve guessed the no speaking rule, but for his own sanity he pretended that was because he wasn’t royalty and not due to the fact he was human. “How...how many people will be there, anyways?”

“Not...too many.” Roman bit his lip. “It’s a special dinner, so only nobility will be there. My father and brother and his human will be there. And I’m sure there will be several lords and ladies and dukes and whatnot from our kingdom…” Roman trailed off.

“I’d say about thirty people at the most.” He answered finally.

“Thirty.” Virgil’s voicebox squeaked as he repeated the number, a hand coming up to grip his hair. “Heh, great.” Even the mention of another human being present wasn’t exactly good news. It wasn’t as though Virgil could talk to them anyways, and it would likely just depress Virgil even further to see someone else trapped here. Still, at least he wasn’t the only one, so maybe he’d get slightly less stares?

“It-It shouldn’t be too bad.” Roman tried to comfort Virgil. “But there is...something else.” Roman rubbed the back of his neck.

“What is it?” Virgil narrowed his eyes, not liking the way Roman hesitated.

“Okay...so...There’s going to be a part of the dinner where they expect Logan and now me, to show off what our humans can...do.” Roman said lamely. “Which means...you will have to listen to me and do a few, uh, commands like before.”

“Oh, hell no.” Virgil shook his head.

“Look, I know but you have to. If you don’t, my father will get angry and trust me, none of us want that.” He shivered just thinking about it.

“Can’t you just say I’m “not trained yet” or something?” Virgil insisted, gritting his teeth even as he said it.

Roman shook his head. “My father doesn’t understand how all this works, much like I did before I spoke with Logan. You won’t have to do a lot though, definitely not as much as Logan’s human. You’ll probably just have to do the basic commands I already taught you.”

“That’s a lot of ‘probably’s and ‘maybe’s and uncertainties there, Roman.” Virgil pointed out, feeling his panic rising. What, now not only would he have to deal with good old social anxiety, as well as the natural fear of a room full of giants, but now he was facing performance anxiety as well?!

“I don’t want to do it, Roman.” Virgil pressed on. “It’s demeaning and stressful and frankly I’d probably freeze up on the spot anyways. You better think of a good excuse for your dad because I’m not doing it.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “But you said you would behave! We even shook on it! Please, Virgil. I’d rather you not do this either but you have to I-” He was cut off by a knock at the door.

“Prince Roman? Your presence is required for the dinner.” A servant spoke through the door. Roman groaned.

“Tell them I am on my way!” He called back out. He heard the servant leave and he looked down at Virgil with slight guilt and pity. “Sorry Virgil but this is happening. It’ll be okay though, I promise.” Roman stood and scooped Virgil into his hands.

Virgil struggled briefly at first, but as soon as he got a glance at the distance to the floor he changed tactics. Virgil gripped onto Roman’s finger, terrified of a fall.

“Don’t you dare drop me.” Virgil warned, although his threat might have held more weight if he wasn’t white as a sheet.

“I won’t.” Roman reassured him before heading out towards the dining hall. He walked a bit slower for Virgil’s sake and made it to the dining area with half the guests still standing and chatting. His father came up to greet him.

“You’re late.” He briefly glanced down at Virgil in Roman’s hands before going back to Roman.

Roman put on a smile. “Yes, sorry father. Lost track of time.” The king hummed but turned away from him and towards his guests.

“Everyone! May I present Prince Roman and his human, our reason for celebrating tonight!” A polite clapping echoes across the hall.

Virgil trembled, feeling overwhelmed already. A few dozen giant eyes peered at him across the room, making him feel especially small. He wanted nothing more than to curl further into his hoodie and die. Of course, the eyes were only the first overwhelming thing about this place. The lights were too bright, the smells were too strong, and everyone was so loud that if Virgil wasn’t so afraid of falling he would have dropped Roman’s finger in favor of covering his ears.

Roman curled his hand a little tighter in comfort around Virgil as he felt him shake before nodding to the guests and sitting across from Logan-who of course was there, probably had gotten there early too-and to the left of his father. As the guests were taking their seats, Roman turned to Logan. “Hey Logan.” He carefully set Virgil down on the table as he greeted his brother.

Virgil felt the table beneath him trembling as various Giant nobles took their seats. He looked up in front of him to finally put a face to Logan’s name. Virgil shuddered, finding the Giant’s calculating gaze already upon him.

“Hello Roman.” Logan returned his brother’s greeting, not attempting to hide his curiosity.

Looking back at the table, Virgil’s eyes widened when he saw a tiny- well, not tiny he reminded himself, just normal sized- figure sat near Logan’s hand. It was another human being! And yet, despite all of this craziness, they seemed almost...calm. Was he okay? Almost subconsciously Virgil began to walk towards him, drawn to the only familiar thing in this mess up scenario.

Patton couldn’t help but openly stare at the other human. It had been so long since he saw someone his size. It almost seemed unreal to him. And then his eyes widened when Virgil started walking.

Roman’s eyes widened as well and he was quick to put his hand in front of Virgil and scoot him back towards him. He looked around to make sure no one saw anything, thankfully, everyone was still getting settled.

Patton winced but knew it was for the best that Roman had done that.

Logan raised an eyebrow at the human’s behavior, realizing that this event might be a bigger disaster than he originally thought.

Thankfully Virgil snapped out of his trance the moment he was touched. He wanted to send a glare back at Roman but knew that it would be in his best interest to listen to all those rules Roman had mentioned.

Despite this, Virgil couldn’t stop gazing across the table at the human curiously, noticing the human was staring right back. Who was he? What was his story? Virgil realized now that he had never even heard his name. Oh jeez, he did still have a name, right?

Patton smiled a bit and waved at the other human when he noticed he was looking at him again. He looked to be doing alright...well, physically anyway. He looked absolutely terrified though. Patton couldn’t blame him.

The king took his seat as everyone settled down to look at him. “Thank you all for coming to this, I’ll admit, bit of a last minute dinner.” Some guests chuckled. “But I can assure you, the food is as good as ever. Now, let us eat!” As if on cue, a wave of servants came out with dishes upon dishes of hot food. Placing it in front of everyone.

Roman nodded to the servant in thanks but he was distracted by Virgil. Remembering that he had forgotten to tell him he would have to eat off of Roman’s plate. Hopefully he’s figured it out.

Patton already knew what to do, of course, and came over to sit between the plate and Logan and waited for the giant to push his serving to him.

Logan did so, portioning out the meat and vegetables accordingly so that Patton got enough and it was easily manageable.

Virgil watched this exchange, eyes widening in realization. Oh, hell no. Virgil turned back to Roman, already shaking his head. He’d rather go hungry for the night, and honestly with all the sounds of chatter and eating around him he didn’t think he could stomach much anyways. This whole scenario made him a bit queasy.

Patton dug into his portion, still watching the other human. He watched as the gears in his head turned and then he turned away from the plate of food. Oh...Patton sighed, remembering the feelings of his first dinner well. Though, at least this human didn’t have to deal with all that grabbing. He shivered at the memories, taking another bite of food.

Roman was portioning out food for Virgil when he noticed Virgil’s behavior. He bit his lip and snuck a glance at his father, who was thankfully busy eating. He scooted Virgil to sit between him and the plate, like Logan’s human was and then leaned down to whisper to Virgil. “Look, you don’t have to eat anything right now but just, like, pretend or something. Please.”

Every muscle in Virgil’s body was tense from being moved and the new proximity he had to Roman, but it was with no small amount of surprise that Roman’s words registered in his brain. If Virgil didn’t know any better, he’d say Roman was being almost respectful.

“...fine.” Virgil agreed in a hushed tone, reaching out for a small bit of what looked kind of like a carrot. He nibbled on it cautiously, finding it acceptable.

Logan cleared his throat, wanting to keep attention away from Roman for the time being. “So, father, I overheard our neighbors to the East will be meeting next week to discuss the revised alliance.”

The king nodded, barely looking at his son. “Yes, they are. It should be a relatively simple engagement though.” The king took a drink from his cup before turning to Roman. “So, Roman. How have things been going with your human?”

Roman’s eyes widened but he quickly put on a smile. “Oh, things have been going splendidly. But of course, what did you expect.” Roman fake chuckled.

The king raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So you have a few things to show off to all of us today?” The king asked and Roman’s smile became a little more strained.

“Absolutely.”

Virgil gave Roman’s arm a subtle smack.

Roman ignored it as his father nodded at him and turned back to his food. Roman let out a small sigh and leaned down again. “I’m sorry, I panicked!” He whispered. Though, he couldn’t have just said ‘no’ either.

“And what exactly do you think I’m doing?” Virgil hissed, beginning to panic himself. “Think of something because I’m not gonna be showing anything off.”

Roman mentally groaned and stuck another forkful of food into his mouth. This could only end badly.

They all continued to eat as the chatter drifted from different ends of the table. It wasn’t long before everyone had finished eating and the king cleared his throat. The chatter died down and everyone turned to the king. “Alright everyone, time for our formal dinner tradition. Roman? If you would.”

Roman gulped and quickly tried to think of something. “Uhh, shouldn’t Logan go first? You know, save the best for last and all that.” Roman chuckled nervously. The king stared at him for a moment before turning to Logan.

“Alright then. Logan?”

“As you wish.” Logan sighed, pushing back from the table. He walked down the length, past the various overdressed and over eager royals to stand at the opposite end of the table, facing his father. Once there he tapped the tabletop right in front of him.

Patton stood up and quickly made his way over to Logan. Though the table was very long and it still took him a few minutes despite fast walking. When he made it to Logan, he stopped and looked up at him to await the next thing. He was used to this whole ‘performance’ thing, after having to do it for months.

Logan gave him a small smile, purposefully oblivious to the various looks and comments that the crowd gave Patton. He had never enjoyed this particular ritual, although he was never a fan of any meaningless form of entertainment.

Of course, now Logan was faced with a difficult choice. He glanced back to where his brother sat. There were a number of simple enough tasks that Patton was able to accomplish that would amaze the stupid onlookers regardless. Therefore, should Logan demonstrate all of Patton’s skills, in order to go above and beyond and allow Roman’s performance to be lackluster? Or, should Logan keep his routine simple and keep the bar relatively low for the new human?

Then again, it seemed every task Logan thought of would be strenuous on the poor human. Logan sighed, knowing he could only do so much to ease the process along. After all, father still wished to be entertained, and Logan didn’t wish for Patton to be harmed either.

“Excellent work.” Logan finally praised, sticking his hand out for a shake.

Patton waited no time in sticking his own hand out, letting it grab onto one of Logan’s fingers.

Logan shook it gently, then turned Patton back towards the crowd.

“Would you like to say hello?” He asked, turning the command into more of a polite question.

Honestly, no, Patton didn’t. But he put on a smile anyway. “Hi everyone!” He said, waving. Roman couldn’t help but smile at how cute Logan’s human was.

“Don’t forget your manners.” Logan said, giving him the cue to bow.

Patton faltered slightly, not believing he had almost forgotten but he kept his smile on and bowed like he had been taught to.

“Aww!” The chorus of obnoxious cooing made Logan aware that this had done its job. Satisfied, Logan put his palm down on the table.

Patton climbed on, once again with no hesitation.

“Nicely done.” Logan praised softly, holding Patton close to his chest as he walked back to his seat. He sat down, putting Patton back on the table and petting him as a form of praise.

Virgil’s jaw felt as if it would drop to the floor. He was expected to do all that?! He had expected to like, sit down or something and just be a degraded little dog. Did Roman seriously expect him to walk down in front of all those people? What if someone grabbed him! Or pushed the table!

And the other human had done it all so easily. Virgil cringed, watching him get pet like a little prized puppy dog. It was all so...sad.

Patton smiled up at Logan before turning to look at the other human. Waiting to see what he would do.

The king nodded at Logan before turning to Roman. “Alright Roman. Your turn.”

Roman nodded slowly, wondering what on earth he was supposed to do. Welp...this could either work or end horribly. Roman stood up and bowed towards the crowd. “Good evening everyone! I am glad you all could make it. This dinner if incredible special, as you know, I have just received my human yesterday! Having said this, I must admit that he does not know too much yet. But he will in time! I am happy to say though, that he does know a few tricks that we will show to you now.” Roman took a deep breath and looked down at Virgil, smiling sweetly and hoping Virgil would just listen to him.

“Stand!”

Virgil took a deep breath, feeling all eyes turn to him. He tried to tune them out, focusing on the human across from him and ignoring the way he was still being pet. Man that was weird to watch.

Slowly, on shaky legs, Virgil stood.

Roman grinned. Okay, this was good. If Virgil kept this up they might make it out of this. He held out his hand for Virgil. “Shake!”

Let’s get this over with. Virgil turned to Roman, quickly touching his palm to Roman’s before he could psyche himself out of this.

Roman shook his hand gently before letting it go. Okay, they could do this! “And sit!”

Gratefully Virgil collapsed back to the tabletop, breathing a sigh of relief that it didn’t seem like Roman wanted him to do that whole routine like Logan had done.

“And that’s it everyone! Thank you!” Roman bowed towards the crowd.

“That was it?” The king spoke up and Roman froze, grin slipping from his face.

“Well, I uh….” Roman bit his lip. “He is...still learning.”

“Seems like he should be able to do a bit more than just that.” The king said, looking straight at the human. Roman bit his lip nervously. Well, what did he do now?

Virgil gave Roman a warning look, letting the Giant know his patience was wearing thin.

Thankfully, Logan stepped in. “Father, it’s hardly been a day.” Logan reminded him sternly. “It’s impressive that Roman got the human to do anything other than cower. That’s more than you accomplished. You just don’t understand the meticulous details that come with such a task.”

The king stared at Logan for a few moments, on the verge of glaring before he huffed. “I suppose that makes sense. But it was still too short. Roman.” The king turned to Roman. “At least make the thing walk into your hand, that’s simple enough, right? Then you can be done.” The king leaned back in his chair, waiting for it to happen.

Oh...crap.

“Um, well, you see…” He trailed off, looking down at Virgil.

Virgil glared right back at him, growing nervous in the back of his mind. There was no way Roman could really force him to do it...right?

“This is exactly what I was talking about.” Logan huffed. “That is by no means a simple task, it can take weeks, even months, to gain enough of a bond to accomplish such a feat.”

The king ignored Logan. “Well?” He asked Roman, raising an eyebrow. Roman gulped.

“Um, father, I really think Logan is right in this instance-” The king cut him off.

“You told me that you could handle this, Roman.” Roman faltered.

“I can! I just-”

“Then do it.” Roman grit his teeth, looking from his father and then down to Virgil. He let out a sigh and placed his hand down next to the human.

“Climb on.” His boisterous crowd voice was gone.

Virgil froze, the overly loud room quiet for once as all attention was focused solely on him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. Virgil’s eyes were hyper focused on Roman’s palm. It wasn’t that complicated of a request, really. Just a few steps and it would all be over. Virgil would have behaved, the dinner would be finished, and he could at least escape all these prying eyes.

...so why couldn’t Virgil do it?

Virgil took a few nervous, tiny steps in the opposite direction, beginning to tug on his hoodie sleeves.

“Father, this is ridiculous.” Logan broke the silence, turning to the king.

The king ignored his eldest son and continued to watch Virgil like a hawk. Roman bit his lip and moved his hand closer to the human, nudging his legs slightly. Come on, Virgil.

Patton was watching this whole thing, memories of his own experiences coming back to him and was on the edge of his seat as he continued to watch the other human. He hated seeing the poor kiddo like that and something in him just screamed at him to help. He acted on instinct, not thinking as he ran away from Logan and into the center of the table.

“Hey everyone! Uh, wow, dinner sure was great today, huh! My portions were a little small though!” Patton giggled nervously, falling back on his old love of telling puns.

...What was he doing?

Virgil’s jaw dropped, shocked at the human’s sudden interruption. He was far from the only one.

“Patton!” Logan gasped, hurriedly grabbing Patton off the table and holding him close to his chest. Though a few dinner guests were amused by Patton’s uncharacteristic outburst, father was not one of them.

“Logan! What the hell was that!” The king yelled, his attention off of Roman and his human for a moment.

Roman was frozen in shock, just staring open jaw at Patton in Logan’s hands. The human had never done anything like that before. What the heck had gotten into him?

Patton cowered in Logan’s hand, staring wide-eyes at the angry king’s face. Maybe that hadn’t been the smartest thing to do...

“I...I’m not sure.” Logan admitted, holding Patton closer and rubbing a finger down his back. He frowned, wondering what Patton had been thinking. Even back when Patton was new he was usually so quiet at events.

Virgil flinched, backing away from the angry king and the rest of the ruckus that seemed to have broken out. Had...had the other human been trying to protect him?

“Well, I hope you plan on punishing him for this!” The king yelled at Logan before turning to Roman and rubbing a hand across his face. “Roman, please hurry this along so we may all leave.”

Roman gulped and looked down at Virgil. He had thought for a moment his father would be distracted enough to not make them do this but looks like they had no such luck. He had no choice at this point, the king was already angry and making him angrier would be very bad. “Climb on.” He told Virgil again. Begging him with his eyes to do so.

Patton shook uncontrollably at the kings words, everything else deaf on his ears. No, no he couldn’t be punished. Not again! He thought he was done with all of that!

“It’s alright.” Logan murmured, his heart aching as Patton became inconsolable.

Virgil processed all that had happened. He really, really didn’t want to get into Roman’s hand. But it seemed he didn’t have a choice by now. He could fight it all he wanted, but one way or another he would end up in Roman’s hands anyways to get back to the room.

Virgil looked up at the terrified human in Logan’s hands, feeling extremely guilty. That human had done that just for him. Virgil loathed the idea of someone else getting punished, but he certainly wasn’t going to let that sacrifice be in vain.

So, with a deep breath, Virgil climbed onto Roman’s palm.

Roman let out a heavy sigh of relief as he lifted Virgil into the air. “Ta da…” He said weakly towards the guests and his father. His father grunted.

“Finally.” The king stood up. “The two of you are dismissed. Please deal with your humans accordingly.” Roman bowed and wasted no time in running out of the dining room and towards his own room.

#gt #Giant/tiny #thomas sanders #sanders sides #infinitesimal!sides #au #giants #human!virgil #human!patton #giant!logan #giant!patton #alternate world #platonic #kingdom perspective #part 5

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