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heffrondriving · 2 years

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- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Which Side Of My Heart Are You On? ❜ : ̗̀❥ JO TAYLOR × LUCY STONE┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

: ̗̀❥ RATING: T // WORD COUNT: 9,080 // CHARACTERS: lucy stone, jo taylor // RELATIONSHIPS: lucy stone/jo taylor, obligatory kendall knight/jo taylor // TAGS: one shot, fluff, mild hurt/comfort, lil lucy angstiness, romantic tension, slice of life, friendship, pining, gay panic, flirting, confusion, internal conflict, self-denial, arguing, character study(ish), femslash, girls in love, canon compliant, useless lesbians <3, rarepair // AO3

: ̗̀❥ inspired by the song Like That by Stand Atlantic and dedicated to @digitalfate 💙

❥៚ 𝑶𝑵𝑬: 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒆 (𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒗𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆) ─ೄྀ࿐

❝ Honey-coated speech and I’m overdosing It’s just like that (It’s just like that) Delicately dying for another minute It’s just like that (It’s just like that) Gold rush, what you digging out of me? This head rush, stomach’s in my neck I gotta stand still, dizzy, dumb and in between... ❞

Things have been weird. And while Lucy wouldn’t mind a dash of weirdness cutting up the basic monotony of her daily life, this was just asking for madness.

Well...there was asking for madness, and there was turning right to madness, and Lucy felt so impossibly caught up in the middle of it all that she would have given anything to feel normal again, even just for a second.

But that was also ridiculous. She was Lucy Stone, for crying out loud! She was hardly the poster girl of normalcy, and she rocked that rollercoaster ride hard and fast, no safety bars allowed. She was an up-and-coming punk goddess shacking up in the very heart of Heartless Hollywood, land of the rich and famey and batshit crazy. She had four good friends who also happened to be rowdy hockey players slash huge popstars slash absolute troublemaking hooligans from Minnesota, all of which constantly dragged her along their insane cartoonish escapades. And believe her, Lucy had tried normal, once upon a terrible time—having apple-cheeked, insidiously overwound, suburban basketcases for parents will do that to a ponytail-pulled kid.

And still, it was amazing—infuriatingly so—how none of it held a Yankee gift-basket candle towards the weirdest way Jo had been making Lucy feel lately.

So maybe that was Lucy’s own fault, a slow undoing by her own personal hubris a-la Ajax tragedy—after all, she was the one who chose to move back to the Palm Woods, despite the rocky not-quite-history she had with the place. With the way things were going for her flourishing career, she could’ve gone all-out and holed up in some nice ultra-luxury condo elsewhere in LA, preferably somewhere far away from her old lie of a life and the pretty little faces that came back to haunt her every restless night she was all alone and running on twenty cans of Pipeline Punch Juice Monster and writer’s block. But that just wasn’t Lucy’s thing. She was never the type to just up and run away.

Well, except maybe running away from her overbearing parents and their southern passive-aggressive authoritarian neuroses that got her poor older brother kicked to military school before she could get more secret guitar lessons from him, but that’s besides the point. If Lucy wanted to get over something, she would face it without flinching and confront whatever got thrown her way headfirst. If there was anything she learned from her cranky whipsnap of a violin teacher (and nothing more useful than sight reading and permanently disliking classical music, to be frank), it’s that quitters never get the break.

Well, okay—she had also quit the old hag for nearly breaking her fingers off with that damn yardstick anyway despite her father’s disappointed vitriol. But it turned out to be the best decision Lucy had ever made, since now she has broken away from her stifling classical musician past and finally emerged with her big break as the rock scene’s next big rising star. Even though whoever in her idiot desk monkey PR team that had the ‘brilliant’ idea to stamp her brand as a ‘pop princess’ smack dab on the cover of Wailing Note magazine out of all places seriously had another thing coming, because that couldn’t be any further from who she was trying to be. But trying to be the next Siouxsie Sioux with kickin’ song titles like ‘Teenage Anarchy’, ‘Eat My Dog’, and ‘Cut It Off And [redacted due to inappropriate graphic nature]’ don’t sell in this modern climate, so maybe Lucy could at least try to get Avril Lavigne and she wasn’t even tossed that fighting chance.

And now the cycle of Lucy’s woebegone life seemed to have gone from broken-up to breaking out and now right on the verge of breaking down, grappling with strange feelings she wasn’t sure were even hers to feel at all. Even with her pointless selfish reminiscing, Lucy knew this wasn’t just about her, wasn’t just about her messed-up past and her breakneck future making her feel a thousand different shades of weird, but it was here and now. In the present, with a girl she doesn’t know how to feel about. There was something about Jo Taylor.

Or something else Lucy was missing entirely.

There was bound to be some weirdness between them; after all, she and Jo both dated the same boy at some point—even though dated was a pathetically generous way of putting it for Lucy, what with the whole only together for barely ninety seconds deal before those fateful elevator doors opened up to a badly-timed kiss and imminent disaster. After her previous cheater boyfriend fiasco she nearly fell prey to again, the last thing Lucy wanted to do was to get caught up in an unexpected love triangle with all signs pointing to heartbreak highway with an inbound collision, which was certainly enough to break the hardest heads and make anyone’s mangled stomach drop all the way to the pits of hell.

But if her debut album was all about being strong and doing what makes you happy, then so be it. Nevermind that she also would have been totally singing out of her ass for 80% of the tracks (the remaining 20% was for the sick guitar riffs that could shred a whole factory of Dutch gouda into fine powder and disgustingly great sound production courtesy of Galactic Records, of course). Because apparently that positive fakery and callout girlpower sells and sells and sells, so hey, well done her. Make it until you fake it, right?

Anyway, all of that annoying drama was over and done with, Lucy’s had her petty little revenge via a hit Taylor Swift-esque masterpiece that landed her a cosy place on the music charts (which, in hindsight, wasn’t the most elegant of moves, but she was lonely and dejected and filled with enough unwanted spite to boil her body from the inside out, what else was a girl supposed to do other than go all Ophelia? Yeah, Lucy was tragic but she wasn’t buying into that classic brand of fridged-lady bullshit) and earned her a pretty cool future European tour, and now she had her rightful throne back at the Palm Woods along with her old close friends and a really lovely new girl friend.

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe Lucy and Jo were only pretending to stand each other’s strained necks only to crush their heels down as soon as one let down her guard and looked away. Maybe they were only five seconds away from a slipped bitter laugh and tearing at each other’s throats with painted nails to the beat of flashing paparazzi spotlights and tonight’s E! News headlines. Lucy honestly couldn’t really tell anymore.

Sure, she and Jo were good friends now, but there was still something uncomfortable lingering in the air between them, hair-raising friction and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dispositions and an unspoken gravity that threatened to crush down Lucy’s tin can brain if she overthinks it for too long. The worst part about it was that Lucy couldn’t figure out what it was exactly—she was completely over Kendall (and any other stupidly complicated boy trouble for the foreseeable rest of her life, if she could friggin’ help it), that much was true...but why did she still feel a dull pang of something almost resembling jealousy whenever the Palm Woods star couple were together?

Lucy has tried to cut off that insidious feeling time and time again, but the indomitable hydra’s head just kept on sprouting back and multiplying twofold, poison veins and blood-red vision, suffocating her a little worse every time.

Cutting her own annoying head off would be a much easier solution.

That Sunday was one of those weird monster-brain days. Lucy and her two best friends had been meticulously planning this girls’ day out for an entire week now as their busy acting and recording schedules never seemed to perfectly align, and that day was the only free time they had to spare. Unfortunately, Camille had to be rushed back for a last-minute audition callback for the next series installment of hit TV show My Nanny is a Werewolf on Kidzie Channel. While both Lucy and Jo eagerly volunteered to entirely nix the hangout and come with her in support instead, the actress cheerily waved their offers off, telling the girls that Logan was already coming with her anyway and she didn’t wanna ruin their plans any more than she already did, despite their assurances of the contrary.

With exchanged wishes of good luck, Camille bade her friends goodbye with a well-practiced weregirl snarl-twirl-snap combo and playful reminders to “have fun and behave yourselves while I’m away!”

Lucy couldn’t even muster up a smartass quip back to promise one or the other. If anything could send her nerves instantly unwinding end to end and back around her throat next to news of her parents coming around for a visit to subtly psychoanalyse her every disobedient move and street mimes (the creepy monochrome bastards), it was having to be alone with Jo.

Shit biscuits, this was so not in the plan!

It was going to be strange for them—potentially disastrous, even—not having Camille around, since she was practically the sole linchpin keeping their friend group together. With the veteran teen actress having been really close to each girl and being a steady presence in the Palm Woods and their lives despite all the ensuing changes and confusion, she was always there to ease out the looming tension and act as an impartial mediator between Lucy and Jo, always ready with a crazy story or a fun activity to rope in the three of them together. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but Lucy’s previous solo hangouts with Jo proved to be a bit dubious after exhausting their seemingly multiple choice chit-chat options about music and work and the-eyebrows-man-who-must-not-be-named, more often ending the conversation in question marks and uneasy silence broken only by a straw scraping against the bottom of the empty smoothie cup.

But Lucy was still determined to make the best out of what might just be a good thing. Maybe even the next best thing for them going forward. This was the perfect chance to figure out what exactly was going on between her and Jo. What’s the worst that could happen, right?

(Everything. Nothing. All of the above plus one and show the equations on scratch paper. The options were limitless and if this was a test of true strength and willpower, Lucy would rather stab herself in the neck with a freshly-sharpened #2 pencil than fail hard and embarrass herself. But she wasn’t gonna be a coward and run away, not this time. Not anymore.)

Their day was a whirlwind blur; a burning rush of exciting Hollywood lights beckoning their giddiest fancies and sweltering air competing against frigid mall air-conditioning, teasing flashes of soaring blonde curls and a steadfast hand clutching Lucy’s own, and creeping close contact everywhere she turned—every moment a suspect call, ocean bruises and rubinette touches turning into downward spirals and a bleeding fleeting desperation that seemed to haunt Lucy around like a phantom as she followed Jo around, while her friend clearly wasn’t feeling the buzzkill spectre shivering and sapping her bones dry of enjoyment.

That was good. That was bad. The answers were still a mess on the page.

For the most part, Lucy figured she did a pretty good job of the whole rigmarole. Despite her brain initially going full neurotic on her, it really wasn’t all as bad as her nightmarish fantasies had twisted it out to be. As a matter of fact, it was Mr. Fox levels of fantastic.

They visited some boutiques and spreed the shops to mix and match some cool new outfits for each other, and shared some delicious food at a quaint seaside burrito and taco stand afterwards. There, Lucy listened intently to Jo’s stories about getting the part of the beautifully wise nymph-child Emily Trace and her time in New Zealand filming for Chauncey Jackson, which the actress still fondly remembered despite the whole breakup deal and the disastrous theatre-burning aftermath that came with it. Lucy managed to crack snarky little jokes and laugh in the right places, also sharing funny and zany tour tales of her own. And, upon Jo’s not-so-brilliant idea once she spotted the two-for-one deal sign as they were heading back, Lucy also begrudgingly got French pedicures with her, which was a whole other level of horrifying for the punk girl.

She swore upon all the unwise deities in the sky that she was never letting anyone near her extremely ticklish appendages again no matter how skilled they were at prettying up her nails, thanks very much.

But that was the worst brunt of it otherwise. In a spur-of-the-moment madness, Lucy even ran with this whole dumb bit of going all gum-chewing tour guide for Jo and showing her around the city, completely playing into it with awed gasping, imaginary camera clicking, and dramatic posing and pointing at every nondescript building facade and rusty fire hydrant. Neither girl cared that every rubbernecking passersby shot them odd looks and disapproving glares, they simply laughed and ran away with arms interlocked beneath the cascading firestorm marigold of the afternoon skylines, cardboard cutouts of towering skyscrapers and palm trees silhouetting the dying sun as the day drew to a more peaceful close.

So yeah, to say it went great was a massive understatement. Lucy enjoyed herself a lot, but not as much as she enjoyed seeing Jo have the time of her life. It felt like their relationship was going to continue its ascending momentum, but...friendship shouldn’t have felt this stilted, this rehearsed, this performative. It shouldn’t have been this hard for Lucy to deal with. Even with her inexplicable thoughts, Lucy really liked Jo. And the sentiment seemed to be reciprocated, counting how many times Lucy made Jo smile and crack up—and in one instance, even choke on her ice cream as the punk girl described Camille and Kendall’s short-lived stint as figure skaters in full painful detail, insane best friend code and Logan’s murderous jealousy and James and Carlos getting glued together and horrible shiny purple costume and bloody Death Spiral and all.

Jo was incredibly easy to talk to, comfortable to be around with, all prettiness and sprightly charm and that adorably wicked smile edging out a smart veneer—it made Lucy’s stomach flutter something strange—maybe from hope, or maybe from indigestion courtesy of those killer all-American beef tacos. Long story longer, Lucy wants to be with Jo.

So what the hell was she doing wrong?

There wasn’t too much time for Lucy to think it over, and she was far too exhausted and simply relieved that she made it out alive. The two girls opted for one last quick corndog snack (well, Lucy did since she was seriously starving after their impromptu street run and Jo wasn’t the biggest fan of the food, but the actress bought some to take home for their hyper helmet-toting friend anyway), before catching the last shuttle to the Palm Woods and finally making it back to their home sweet home.

Make it until you fake it...

“Thanks for the awesome day out, Jo,” Lucy said as they reached the door to Apartment 3F, a place less supply closet chic and much roomier than her old one. She only moved into a second-floor space when she first returned as step one of her terrible ‘get rid of horrible songwriting rut’ plan. And after a whole week of sleepless nights courtesy of the nonstop racket in Apartment 2J, Lucy decided to save what was left of her hanging sanity by requesting a change in rooms, an arrangement that Mr. Reginald Bitters was all too happy to agree to once he saw the growing zeroes in her bank account.

However, this also meant that Jo’s apartment was only a few doors away from hers down at 3I, an uncanny coincidence that Lucy didn’t want to think too much about.

“No need to thank me for anything,” Jo replied modestly. “And thanks as well!”

“I’m super worn-out to the bone and all, but I had lots of fun and I really wanna do this again soon. Hopefully when Cam’s free so we can paint the town a shade of red brighter.”

“Yeah, I think I’d really like that too.” Jo smiled. “And Camille better be there, ‘cause she seriously missed out today and well...I say this with all the love in my heart, but you’re also a really lousy clothes shopping partner.”

Lucy chuckled, airily shrugging in reply. “Hey, no offence taken. If it wasn’t so obvious already, I’m really more of a DIY-kinda person when it comes to choosing my fits. I mean, where’s the fun in picking up Barbie doll cutouts when you could get to run loose with scissors and trick up that haute couture perfection into something awesome and unique?”

“Yeah, I get the whole getting bored with dress-up too.”

“Yeah?”

“Kinda, with all the outfits and costumes they make me wear for my acting roles sometimes...” Jo said. “It’s all gorgeous fun and fabulous fashion shows in the dressing trailer until you’ve spent half your week on the makeup chair after your fiftieth costume change of the day and end up in a molting chicken outfit in hundred-degree LA heat for an eight-hour shoot.”

Lucy whistled low at this. “I’ve had my fair share of getting stuffed into itchy grandma dresses by my mom, but yeah, definitely nothing as bad as that. I think my worst offender was a giant pink chiffon tutu for a church recital and I sulked up a storm the entire time for the performance that my annoyed dad practically had to drag me off the stage by my pointé shoes.”

“Awww, ballerina Lucy-goosey,” Jo gushed. “Now that I would love to see!”

“You’d have to pry it from my cold dead hands first.” Lucy sternly clicked her tongue. “But hey, anytime you feel up for a wardrobe overhaul, call me, beep me, ‘cause I’m your gal. it’s a hell of a time ripping ‘em up, and that’s definitely a thing I gotta show you sometime.”

“Mmm, maybe. Daddy taught me never to run with scissors, though.”

“Oh come onnn, live a little, why don’t you?” Lucy mimed a pair of scissors with both hands and poked and jabbed her flicking fingers into Jo’s midriff, making her cry out in protesting giggles.

“Hey—don’t, buzz off—you’re—such a bad influence—Stone!” She gasped out, skirting away and whacking Lucy with a Kate Spade shopping bag to fend her attacks off.

“As if you really need me to break your halo, angel?” Lucy winked. “I’m afraid it’s far too late to save your grace.”

“And you and me and the devil makes three.”

“Well, only you and me since two of those are the same things.” With a halfhearted evil cackle, Lucy swung the door open with a grand sweeping gesture. “Feel like entering the gates of hell today?”

Jo nodded gratefully as she welcomed the invitation. “I don’t know if I could take another step without collapsing, so wouldn’t mind a little rest,” she said, dropping her bags down on the couch and comfortably settling in with a sigh. “Thanks, Lucy...fer?”

“Oh, you won’t be thanking me soon enough.”

“Why, ‘cause you’re gonna make pretty confetti out of my clothes?”

“Hey now, alright, alright. No more running with scissors so daddy doesn’t take your supper away.” The punk girl held up two hands in surrender and sat down next to Jo. “Maybe just very carefully ambling with helmets and crash pads. That sound like a plan?”

“Just as long as that plan doesn’t include you abandoning me to cause some townie trouble with high school kids and howl at the moon.”

Both girls couldn’t help but giggle at the vivid image of the elegantly gorgeous Camille Roberts transforming into a hairy scary beast by performing her signature snarl-twirl-snap cheerleader move.

“Hey, down with team Jacob,” Lucy joked. “I promise I won’t abandon you, and this is just a little precaution so we don’t accidentally riches to rags those really good florals you picked out for me, ‘cause that’d be a right shame.”

Jo frowned at this, peach-pink lower lip blooming into that dainty little pout the New Town High writers had taken every opportunity to abuse in her infamous character Rachel’s scripts. Lucy couldn’t blame them, though. It was a pretty view-cashing quirk—even she was completely mesmerised. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Luce,” she said. “If you don’t like it, just say so. I’m a big girl now and I could totally take it. And anyway, we could always exchange it for those fancy aviator jackets you were ogling over. Oh yeah, I totally saw that, even if you didn’t tell me.”

“How dare you accuse me of being a liar—‘cause I’m totally not!” Lucy insisted, adamantly waving the tropical-patterned paper bag containing the incriminating articles of clothing. “You wanna see me wear that frilly frigging halter top everyday? Girl, you got it! I’ll even dye my hair Electric Bananas yellow and wear it for my next music video complete with Daisy Dukes and red cowboy boots to immortalise it forever in my shameful name, if that’s what it takes for me to prove it to you!”

“Wow, so desperate to convince me.” Jo delightedly laughed, a mischievous wind-chime twinkle. “Hold your horses, cowgirl. I’m already impressed by the dedication alone—although I honestly wouldn’t mind seeing you in that kinda outfit...”

Lucy’s throat tightened, suddenly finding herself unable to meet Jo’s cloying coffee gaze and pursed smirk as it wryly raked up and down her pale, gawky, ungraceful form. She was so unlike her beautiful American doll of a best friend, who was like all the pretty pink princesses and gorgeous Day-Glo Pop Tiger girls she either unhealthily obsessed over or resented with a misguided burning passion (or both) in her younger days. And well, apparently now—but would Jo agree to a music video cameo if it meant Lucy also got to see her in skimpy denim and sunbeaten leather of a sizzling hot Arizona desert cowgirl outfit—was Lucy insane enough to even consider writing a song in the godawful twangy music genre she despised with a burning passion just to make it happen...okay, nope, she wasn’t telling that, either.

“Well, you said no need, so no take-backs,” she muttered halfheartedly, both arms folded adamantly to press over her churning stomach—ugh, must be those damn fried franks too, how the hell did Carlos manage to scarf down a hundred sticks of them on the daily and not get a heart attack in the box?

“...Hey, are you okay, Luce?” Jo asked worriedly as she reached out and touched the back of her hand to her friend’s feverish forehead. “You don’t look so hot.”

“Me, not hot?” Lucy waved her concerns off with a lame scoff. “Pffft, that’s impossible!”

“Oh. Now that’s weird...”

“What’s weird?”

“For a moment, I swear I was talking to James Diamond of Big Time Rush and not Hollywood’s hottest pop princess Lucy Stone...”

“Okay, A. Don’t ever call me pop princess unless you wanna get turned into a toad, and B. compare me to that conceited IKEA rug-looking nematode again and I will take you down,” Lucy snapped, but immediately regretted her default mean girl tone when Jo reeled slightly. Oh, right. Not everyone was used to her brand of poison spit. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean that.”

“You didn’t?” Jo countered. “I’m always ready for a challenge.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll save the taking down for James instead, the next time he tries to be a total pest with his stupid aeroplane-based makeout metaphors and toxic man spray fumes.”

“Wow. You really hate him that much, huh. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the boys on you.”

Despite Jo’s jesting tone, Lucy couldn’t help but feel a little bit defensive. “It’s not that I hate him, I just...” She sighed harshly. “I guess if you look past the bloated ego and the over-delusional Adonis complex and the general dramatic derangement, he seems like a decently nice enough person. A really annoying one, mind—but maybe someone I wouldn’t mind being just friends with.”

“Just friends?”

“Capital F-word Friends, period. Mark my words, Taylor, because I am damn well carving them on the gravestone I’ll rest on in my sweetest deathbed, that I shall never have a thing for James frigging Diamond,” Lucy declared, slapping the coffee table after every word to emphasise her point. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Which I will if you ever bring this utter nonsense up again or even mention a single word of it to James. Then I hope he dies.”

Jo sombrely mumbled something Lucy couldn’t quite make out, only catching the tail end of “...to know.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing, just...” Jo shook her head. “Thinking about some stuff. Nothing important, really.”

“Oh? Then spill,” Lucy goaded. “C’mon Jo, you’ve seen me squirm and shriek my lungs off at that stupid foot spa torture chamber, I think that’s enough to warrant a no-more-secrets rule between us.”

“Well, it’s just that, the thing with James. Or the lack of it, rather.”

“What about it?”

“It’s not because of...the whole Kendall thing, is it?”

“What?!” Lucy’s tone rose to shrill indignation.” Why on god’s green earth would it ever be?”

“I don’t know,” Jo hastily backtracked. “I told you it’s nothing important, but I just never really thought of it this way before. Like, seeing how they’re best friends and everything...”

“Dude, come on—”

“Maybe it’d feel weird for you so soon after everything to have to see him around all the time.”

“Josephine, seriously, you’ve got a big brain on you. Don’t waste it on History Channel conspiracy theories and pointless MTV-level drama,” Lucy sternly berated. “But no, it’s because James is irritating and abrasive and keeps popping up everywhere like a bad rash.” She paused, making a disgusted face. “Okay, ew, that was a horrible comparison, but you know what James is like so you get my point. I told you I’m already cool with Kendall, and you and him have nothing else to do with anything that’s my personal business, except for being my good friends and good company. That’s all.”

Lucy wanted to mean it like she said it—but wowza, was that an Oscar-winning performance of a pretty little white lie or what? Either Camille’s extreme method actressing had been rubbing off on her lately, or it was just another one of those dirty tricks she had to learn the hard way after endlessly lying and being lied to in her last relationship. She was certainly good enough to fool hopeless hearts trying to chase her out of the friendzone and vice versa, so what’s one more lie? Laissez-faire life like this, you simply can’t have one without the other, as she found out easily enough.

That was the only easy part about it, unfortunately. I’d like to thank you with a side of choke, Academy.

“Okay. Just checking,” Jo replied after an extremely unnerving beat, dainty lips quivering as she stubbornly bit CW’s favourite thousand-dollar pout back into a serrated thin line. “‘Cause I’d really feel bad if—”

“Well don’t!” Lucy shouted in a crackwhip shock that made her friend flinch hard enough to taste blood. “I said what I freaking said—so seriously, just drop the whole annoying wounded kitty act and shut up about that for a moment already, okay?!”

“...What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oh, great. Just when Lucy thought she was about to pass with flying colours, there came the surprise back page to clock her just as the time ran out. They were due in for a catfight anytime, weren’t they?

“Nothing,” Lucy dismissed, exhaling roughly and slapping a palm on the side of her head to fend off the incoming headache. “Just forget it. Forget about everything.”

“Lucy, I don’t wanna pick a fight.”

“Yeah? Then why don’t you damn well act like it?” Hey woah, ixnay on the attitude, Stone, what the hell are you doing?!

Jo blinked helplessly. Took a step back. She appeared on the verge of something. Maybe falling tears, maybe unsheathing claws. Lucy had certainly shown her hand. Er, paw. Her own fists clenched and unclenched, leaving thin scarlet indentations on her palms with obsidian-black fingernails.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to upset you,” Jo finally murmured. “I just want you to talk to me, Lucy.”

“What am I, using telepathy or something?”

The punk girl’s snarky response went all but unheeded. “No, I mean like...talk to me, please,” Jo begged, clasping desperately at Lucy’s marred hands. “I just feel like, I don’t know, we’re still holding some things back and the last thing I want between us is this...annoying awkwardness! Maybe it’s just me—maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I feel like there’s this sort of unpleasant tension hiding behind all the normal chatting and the joking, it’s like this weird space that I just can’t understand how to reach out to. It’s like, there’s something more going on here.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucy said evenly, trying to ignore both the sudden electric dithers from her fingertips starting to course through her nerves and the distracting fact that Jo’s skin felt so warm...

“That’s the thing, I can’t even begin to describe it. I don’t think there’s any rational way to! And I swear, I like you a lot, but if we can’t get past that—whatever that is—then...” Jo let go of Lucy and slumped her shoulders heavily, at a total loss. “Maybe there’s no point in trying to be friends anymore.”

Oh, Tony the pissing Tiger grrreat with a side of soggy cornflakes. Not only was Lucy’s worst suspicions confirmed, but it was apparently playing for both teams and everyone was damn well losing. No, really, she would rather take the hair-pulling and name-calling and kicking and screaming—she didn’t do well with pity parades, seeing how easily she could rain on it with her stupid shallow tears. Even worse than the ticklishness, it was seriously Lucy’s greatest, lamest, worst weakness ever.

“Listen to me.” Lucy startled Jo as she staggered forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, trembling touch seconds away from a good sense-knocking shake. “I chose to come back to the Palm Woods. I chose to ignite some trouble with the whole nutty song scandal. I made you believe I was still chasing Kendall just to douse more gasoline in my writer blocked-brain. Did I regret any of it? Yeah, a whole freaking lot, and I’ll never stop being sorry for being so stupidly petty...but I’m not mad anymore. I don’t regret coming back here. And I definitely don’t regret...” Being with you. “Being your friend.”

They were so close Lucy could feel Jo’s rattled breaths shaking past her lungs. Or was it hers?

“Really?”

“Well, duh!” Lucy broke into a genuine smile, which Jo hesitantly mirrored back, and Lucy’s grip relaxed into an awkward pat on the relieved girl’s back. “Hey, the whole thing with me and Mom Pants McGee was a fun little tryst while it lasted, but sweet boys give me a toothache anyway and I’m completely over him now. And I did get a couple amazing hit songs off his storky back, so hey—even stevens.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jo said regretfully. “I’m really sorry for bringing it up in the first place and trying to overcomplicate things again. I mean, you’re so pretty and talented and great to be around with—even if not in the fitting room,” Lucy shot her fond stink-eyes at this gibe, “so...I really don’t wanna lose you.”

“Back at you.” Top ten worst responses to a heartfelt conversation much? But Lucy really couldn’t say it back at the risk of her twitchy eyes going twin geysers, so she squinted and blinked rapidly to get rid of the blurriness threatening to overtake her sight. “But also, you’re still right about some things.”

“Like what?”

“Us, for a start. When I said I didn’t know what you were talking about...I was just too nervous to admit the truth. Because I’ve honestly felt that weird awkwardness too, and I didn’t wanna be the one to ruin things when they seemed to be going great, so I left it alone and hoped it would go away. I tried to make it go away. But maybe that’s also on me for not trusting you enough to really talk to you.”

“Oh thank god,” Jo blurted out. “I mean, not the awkwardness, but I’m really glad I’m not going entirely crazy. Am I bad for saying that?”

“The worst.” Lucy grinned, winking at her. “And you know what? To hell with all that noise! Life’s too short to get cold feet with your cool friend, and it’s too awesome to hang out with you, today alone proved that. I swear, I haven’t had this much fun since...I dunno, my first trip to Kidzieland just after my very first successful violin recital.” She cringed a bit at the inflicting memory. “Well, the recital sucked total butt and a half, what with more frilly dresses and rows of dead-looking old people silently watching a poor six year-old screech her way through Vivaldi Concerto in A Minor, but I just meant the happiest place on Earth part.”

“Ooh, violinist Lucy-goosey, I gotta pry that out of your cold dead hands too! Just kidding. But I really hope you’re not just saying that just to say it.”

“I know I say a lot of things—maybe too many things—but like I said, I never say anything I don’t mean. I can promise you that much, cross my heart and hope to die. Or, um, not die.” There was an irritating song stuck in Lucy’s head going la-la-la-la-liar...

“Sounds good to me,” Jo said, smiling appreciatively. “Sorry for being annoying.”

“You’re not annoying, I’m just being a total queen bitch again. I’m really sorry for yelling at you, Jo. I’m not entirely used to this whole friendship thing yet ‘cause it’s all so new to me—and I guess you’ve just found out why I don’t really have many of them. God, I just need an attitude check every once in a while.” Lucy sighed. “But I really hope we’re still friends...?”

“Of course we are!” Jo said. “Besides, if you’re gonna need an attitude check from time to time, I wouldn’t mind being up for the job.”

“Hired—as long as you’re fine with being my unpaid intern slash total lackey.”

“Oh, I’ll make you pay one way or another.”

“You’ve been threatening me an awful lot today, Miss Taylor.” Lucy arched a daunting brow at Jo. “You really think you can take America’s baddest punk prodigy on?”

“Please. You’d be surprised to see just what I can do to you.”

“I’d love to see you try, princess.”

Lucy smirked and rolled her eyes as Jo lightly punched her shoulder before making a grab for her choker blouse, which she easily twisted out of. Lucy zipped to her feet and made a taunting come-hither motion with one hand while Jo surged toward her again, and she pulled a feign to the right and used it as an opportunity to try to corner Jo. But the blonde girl performed a shockingly quick complex manouevre that completely caught Lucy off-guard, as Jo twisted her by the wrist and swept her outbalanced legs from beneath, easily pushed her back down to the sofa, and ultimately managed to pin her against it, one nimble leg locked over Lucy’s knee and Jo’s forearm pressed deep into her heaving chest to keep her from escaping.

“Told you I’m always ready for a challenge.”

“Touché. Colour me a hot-pink shade of impressed,” Lucy said, not even bothering to squirm her futile way out. “You weren’t the locked-up tower damsel in distress I thought you were.”

“Oh?” Jo cooed slyly. She was clearly savouring every minute of it (not that Lucy couldn’t say the same—but never admit defeat to your enemy and all that jazz). “Did Kendall never mention that my dad’s a trained Marine and CIA employee, and that daddy’s little girl went through intense judo training from age five to get her supper?”

“Your dashing Knight in flannel armour never mentioned a lot of things about you.” Lucy’s lips curled in between shallow breaths. “I wonder why.”

“I guess that means you’re not the only one keeping secrets, huh?”

“I guess so.”

“So you and me, what’s our deal now? I thought you said no more secrets?”

“Well, maybe leave some between the devil and me.” Lucy’s brash conviction fell flat, lost to the stunning sight in front of her spinning her into mental vertigo. Jo’s perfectly-coiffed ringlets were now a tangled mess over her forehead as it freely waterfalled over Lucy’s hot-pink face, and her breaths—damn it, I should really stop staring at those bewitched lips—were so heavy on Lucy’s neck that she found herself shivering and ticklish all over. Stupid oversensitive skin. She deliriously wondered if Jo’s barred arm was also bruising from how hard her heartbeats were walloping out of her ribcage. “So...what else can you do to me, Rapunzel?”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” With a promising glee, Jo finally released her captor and stood up, smoothing back her hair and stretching her body as if their tussle never happened. “But hey, I’m tired and you’re tired and we’re all fried in the brains, so that’s a girl fight for another day, don’t you think?”

“I’ll make sure to chalk up that appointment.” Lucy accepted Jo’s helping hand and handed the other girl’s shopping bags in turn. With this, they instinctively linked arms as they walked to the front door.

“So, same time next week?” Jo asked expectantly.

“Are you talking about the hanging out or the fighting?” Lucy replied.

“Hmm...maybe a little bit of both. For funsies.”

“Hey, dinner and a movie first, missy!” Lucy exclaimed all huffy, making Jo laugh and whap her with a bag again. “But seriously though, whatever it is, I’m looking forward to it, as long as it’s with you.”

Jo searchingly peered at her. “Really?”

“Totally! I know I don’t have many people around here I could talk to apart from the Big Time Gonzos and you and Camille, and there’s never a dull moment, to say the least, but...I just really like being with you the most, Jo,” Lucy confessed. She hated herself worse the more she talked, but the dam had burst and she was unable to keep herself from blabbing on. “Now that we’ve got our issues out of the way, I think I could just talk to you, like really talk to you, no supermutant telepathy needed. Somehow, it makes me hope that I’ll never have to feel like I gotta be someone else other than myself now. So...I don’t know. This sounds super weird and stupid to say, but I kinda feel like...you could be my best friend. Or maybe even more than that...?”

Woah, nelly. Can we get some lip stitcher for the TMI snitcher here??? It must’ve been Lucy’s mind getting scrambled and smeared like avocado toast under the humid evening heat. Or from too much sugar-shocked Mint Brownie Blizzard DQ’s, because why the hell was she suddenly getting all soft and sappy now? Yeah, she was more than used to speaking her mind, but it was usually sharp edges and bad decisions like Jo just unfortunately witnessed, but not this...this goopy tempur-pedic heart mess!

“I dunno, it’s whatever, but you’re cool and stuff, and it’s really nice to wind down from work without getting caught up in insane tree hat schemes or Camille’s crazy acting gigs and have some vanilla peace and quiet sometimes with someone, so like. It’s whatever! Ugh, sorry. Lame. Not you—I just, me—I’m...so lame. Yeah. Um. Thanks. Bye.”

A deafening beat of silence, Jo softening into what could’ve been a second of sympathetic uncertainty, or a thousand years of embarrassed concern. Lucy scuffed her ancient Demonia boots against the dusty carpet, wordlessly counted the dirty palm prints in dire need of a good vacuuming and an entire pricey overhaul that their cheapskate manager would never pay for, and tugged absently at her handmade Lockpicks button, picking and pressing at the black and red marker-scribbled logo until she felt the open pin pierce past her jacket and dig into her numb hammering chest. She wanted to slam the door in Jo’s face to saver her own. Or slam her dysfunctional head between the doorway just to get everything over with.

Yeah, great save there, Stone. Only made you sound like a backed-up motorcycle that won’t start. Peanut butter smooth enough to choke a three year-old. That storm’s one for the playbooks, Lzzy Fail with a capital L for Loserville—

“I don’t know what else to say except for...thank you so much, Lucy.” At last, Jo’s reply mercifully cuts into the musician’s tirade of self-resentment, her sincere voice wavering into delicate brushstrokes and painting Lucy’s face with cosmic bloom. “For this day out. For your honesty. And for everything else.”

Lucy expected a judo slap in the face more than she did gratitude. She would’ve taken it like a champ too, if it’d help her come back to her senses. What? Huh? “Whuh?”

Aaand there’s the slap from her stupid dysfunctional brain to save the friggin’ day. Girl, snap your mouth shut and get yourself together before you have a full-blown aneurysm in front of Jo, come on.

“I’m just really glad to hear that from you, is all,” Jo continued. “‘Cause here I thought it’d never stop being weird after everything that happened between us and even now, I still wasn’t even sure if you really liked me or we’re just doing this to try to be polite with each other...”

“Ohoho believe me, I’m constantly five seconds away from slipping cyanide in your blue smoothies.”

Jo chuckled at Lucy’s amused threat. “Well, thank you for not doing that, and for being an amazing friend. I’m glad that you feel safe enough to be comfortable with me now. All the things you said, I just, I feel the same way about you, I really do. I know I’m not the best with my words right now,” At least you’ve got some words in, unlike miss guppy gaper over here—“But you...um, this just really means a lot to me.”

Lucy’s breath hitched as Jo smiled gently and reached out towards her—too high to be her arm, too low to be anywhere else. Was it a handshake? A hug? A well-deserved slap? Another surprise scuffle?

Even with everything at a standstill, there wasn’t enough time left in the world to find out.

The sound of a chirpy lo-fi ringtone cut through the air, jolting Lucy into a sharp exhale and a spat profanity. Jo halted dead in her tracks to fish out her phone from her shorts pocket and check the incoming notification, her earnest countenance immediately whittling down a weary resignation.

“It’s Kendall,” Jo announced as she idly scrolled through the accursed message. “He’s asking why I didn’t reply to his text twenty minutes ago and what time I’ll be back—and if I got him the latest Hockey Action magazine with that one...sports dude on the cover from the newsstand. I think he had like, brown hair and a weird name but that’s literally all I remember...like he really expects me to tell any of them apart?” She groaned. “They all just look like blurry uniformed guys to me!”

“Oh.”

The actress tiredly laid her glowing phone screen against her scrunched forehead, starkly illuminating the stressed lines creasing her face. “I’m sorry about that, I just...I love Kendall, I really do, but he’s been really testing my patience more and more these days. It seems like all we ever do is bicker and fight about dumb things that shouldn’t matter too much, and then we make up and kiss, and then repeat the whole crazy cycle and I’m used to it by now, but...maybe I shouldn’t be?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Wow, where’d all that big talk disappear off to, big girl? You sound like a stuck soundboard, chrissakes.

“Y’know, sometimes I think I’d be better off if I didn’t get back together with him at all and we just—” Jo sighed abruptly, repocketing her phone. “Nevermind. Sorry. Don’t wanna ruin our perfect day any more than I already have with some extra boring boy friend drama.”

“Okay.” There it was again, that ferocious hydra, writhing and biting and threatening to burst from under Lucy’s taut skin, screaming ‘was that a pause in between boy and friend or did she just run out of breath???’. Apparently metaphorical mythical monsters (ten points for the alliteration skills there, Maya Angelou) can also be total tinfoil hat nutters, grrreat.

“Yeah,” Lucy scoffed a little louder, blithely crossing her arms. “Better not. Anyway, I got a warm shower soak and a Capri Blue Volcano bath bomb in here with my name on it, and you better check in on Kendork before he blows a blond gasket and rips up half the state of California just trying to look for you, so. Don’t want the poor kid thinking I’m stealing his best girl away from him, huh?” Girl, what kinda weirdass joke was that?! God, just shutupshutupshutup—

“Well, right now you have a better fighting chance than him.”

Okay, either someone suddenly decided to throw a huge (highly illegal) party in the next apartment room out of nowhere, or the popping confetti and champagne and victorious rave music and flashing strobe lights were all in Lucy’s head. Lucy’s very confused, very impossible, decidedly insane head.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to hang around?” Jo asked. “A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt, and I wouldn’t mind it at all. Kendall would probably only lay waste and ruin to Sacramento and Anaheim by that time. And if you want, I could also make you a mean grilled chicken salad.” She tilted her head and coyly lifted her shoulders. “I mean not to brag, but. Gotta keep myself busy in the tower somehow.”

Yes, please stay, please don’t, I don’t know what I want with you except for it’s a lot even if you probably want nothing to do with me, maybe you should stay with me so we could figure this mess out together or maybe we don’t just as long as we’re together and you won’t have to fight anyone for a kiss, please fucking stay or I’ll miss you around—

“Nah, I’m gonna miss those cheesy ghost tours and gastropubs if he does that, but cheers for the offer anyway.” Lucy replied with a wink—oh gross, she did that a lot, why the hell does she do that a lot? She seriously needed to call an ophthalmologist’s office sometime to get checked for uncontrollable eye spasms. Or maybe it was the home of the future’s ancient dirty furnishings giving her an allergy reaction something awful and she could sue the pants off Bitters instead. “Now beat it.”

“Awww, but we were having such a moment!”

“Well you already let your hair down, so not anymore, princess.”

Maybe it was Lucy’s imagination being a little demon again, but there seemed to be a crestfallen hint to Jo’s smile at her brisk refusal. So Lucy decided to reach out past the weird space and surprised her friend (though considerably a lot less than she surprised herself) with a gentle embrace; cold sweat palms comfortably flush against Jo’s shoulder blades to slow their descent down even for just a moment longer, silent butterfly whispers fluttering under her wispy breath to never let go.

Jo unsurely squared up a bit before easing into the gesture and matching it, and that’s when Lucy let go and playfully elbowed her away, not bothering to draw away the curtain of red-streaked hair that had fallen over her face. Had it always been a thousand degrees here, or was Buddha Bob messing around with the perpetually-broken thermostat again? It really was a wonder of the world why she chose to move back to this busted joint. But maybe it was worth it because of something else. Someone else.

Surely the princess isn’t in another castle now.

“Now take my affection and scram before I choke you with it, Josephine,” Lucy warned breathily, shaking a curmudgeonly fist at Jo.

“Oh, really? And how are you gonna do that, exactly?” Jo grinned back, a challenging tryst as she shrugged her slipping cardigan sleeve back onto her chambray shirt, all frisky static and fleecy denim, the kind Lucy hated she loved. “Because if we’re gonna have a proper dinner and a movie date soon, then you better be ready to show me sometime.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No need to beg at all. Love you too, Lucille.”

Jo simply winked back, one tender hand to touched to Lucy’s chin as the actress leaned in to kiss her on the cheek—a shy flitting gesture that devolved into vicious hummingbirds tearing apart Lucy’s chest heartbeat by paralysed heartbeat—before Jo gathered her tote bag and newly-purchased belongings, casually waved to her friend one last time, and walked away.

Lucy’s hand let go of the remaining shopping bags—taking no heed of the sound of shattering glass—as it instinctively curled towards her crimson-clashed face, the scent of familiar Velvet Rose and shared mint brownie and vanilla lipgloss dizzyingly overwhelming, trembling electric fingertips tracing what was perfectly spelled out in front of her all along but she was just too stupidly blind to see.

Shocking white blinding Lucy’s vision like intrusive camera flashes worse than hectic press releases, bitterness breaking apart upon remembering the way her heart just about crashed to her freshly-pampered toes when Jo happily embraced her by the shoulders, the phantom sensation of their sweaty bodies pressed delicately and melted together in that cramped Sears photo booth, Jo holding up a peace sign that bumped against Lucy’s devil horns as the blonde stuck her bubblegum-purple tongue out so ridiculously that Lucy hadn’t smiled that hard it hurt since forever, hadn’t felt her stomach cramp up with the kind of unfettered laughter that rang in her ears too loud and untwisted her heated guts and made her feel a little more sane despite all the haunting madness—leaving only a blurry collage of pretty memories to be stuck on fridge doors or placed under pillows for sweeter dreams.

There wasn’t just something about Jo Taylor, apparently—it was everything about her.

Click, click, click, love-laced gears in Lucy’s annoying head gnashing towards a mortified understanding, senseless steam clouding her brain and choking up her restricting throat as the excruciating realisation scribbled warning-red question marks everywhere and derailed their exquisite friendship straight into a messy, confusing, dramatic trainwreck.

Most likely it was nothing. Just a friendly gesture. Just an offhand faux flirt for an offhand faux-flirter. But then again...maybe it meant everything. Maybe Jo meant it. Maybe Jo really felt the same way about her. Maybe the whole date schtick was beginning to dance the line past an overplayed joke into a serious invitation (would his ex-not-boyfriend be pissed if they ended up dating the same girl?). Maybe Lucy just had to turn her head the right way and take Jo down like her impulse-rabid brain hydras were screaming at her to even if that meant stirring up a paparazzi frenzy of the century, alt-scene’s baddie ‘pop-princess’ gone worse with the sweetheart new town queen, to stir their sucked blood in the shark-infested waters and devastate their contract-clean reputations—who ever heard of such a thing?—who the hell could tell anymore?—and who the hell cared about all this MTV-level drama, anyway?

She was too smartmouthed for her own good, all that shammed bravado and sweetsour chit-chat, too cool for class and calculated down to the point just to push people away, too full of shit...she was Lucy Stone, for crying out loud—and that meant nothing at all when she was trying fight against, with, for a girl she’s already lost to, once, twice, a million times over.

Why couldn’t she just shut up and shut it down like she always did this time around?

Lucy couldn’t run away anymore, so the only thing left to do was to write a hundred songs about being weak and making herself miserable and throw it all in the fireplace, because she already sold her soul to the devil. Fake it until you unmake it...and hope it would also unmake all the aching weirdness, the weird overthoughts, the weird way Jo left her hanging on and falling away to snap her neck on the rope she was barely holding onto...this was nothing like the best cheek kisses Lucy had ever served to all the nevermore nobodies she’d vaguely crushed on before, and yet Jo felt like all of those at once.

And more—the kind of more that she wanted, the way she wanted Jo, would Jo want her like they’re meant to be together, would Jo even want her...friendship shouldn’t feel this desperate, this complicatedly messy, this fucking painful. Lucy really wants to be with Jo. She wants Jo. She wants...

Oh, shit biscuits.

a/n: idk if anyone will ever make it this far lmao, but if you see this, thanks for reading!! (⑉⺥˶˶̫˶⺥⑉)💗

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scotlandfences · 2 years

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#tag ban #not bpd #tumblr what the hell #i do not believe it’s apple’s fault for a damn minute #THEY GOT RID OF S3X¥M4N…..#g!rl

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unlimitedhearts · 2 years

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In re: Apple Frakking Tumblr Over

OKAY So ever since the Tumblr announcement over Apple's TOS for the app staying on the AppStore, I've been seeing so many posts spreading so much information AND misinformation.

If you haven't seen the post, click here, but basically it boils down to Apple's TOS for what Apps can and can't exist on the AppStore are pretty damn draconian. Famously Discord had to disallow ios app users from entering Not Safe For Work/Mature servers. Discord also put in a work-around to this but I'll get to that. Anyway, those TOS Apple's put in place are now affecting tumblr.

Misinfo #1: Tumblr is deliberately making the app experience unusable - False

Tumblr is doing what Apple is telling them to do. Apple is the one making the iOS version of the app unusable. Not tumblr. Although their enforcement of Apple's wants is rather obnoxious this isn't tumblr's fault. It's Apple's. Direct your ire to Apple, not tumblr, because this is directly their doing.

Misinfo #2: Tags have been ganked. - Well yes, but actually no.

It's true tags are borped on the iOs app BUT!!! "Banned tags" work just fine in the web version of tumblr, or the Android app. All the tags I've seen in the "banned tags" lists going around work just fine on my phone (I have android) or on my laptop. THE TAGS ALSO WORK FINE ON THE BROWSER ON MY IPAD. That's right, easy way to get around iOS shennangannery? Use the Tumblr website. It looks (and runs) just like the app. There are even other features on the website that aren't on the app. So if you're an iOS user frustrated by how the tumblr app now works, log in on Safari, Chrome, Firefox, Microsoft Edge, Opera, literally any internet web browser, and boom bam. Your original tumblr experience is back. Original bugs and all. Screenshot below of my android phone, and the tumblr website being able to access "banned tags." Also a screenshot of the post from the wip tumblr saying that experiences on Android and the website will not be affected.

Misinfo #3: Tumblr's doing nothing to combat the ultra-censorship on their iOS app - Maybe

In their post, staff said they're working on a work-around. They left details pretty vague, as is staff's wont, but they aren't exactly out of options. This is where I get back to what Discord did when Apple did the same thing to them. Essentially you would have to go onto Discord on your laptop and allow access to not safe for work servers on iOS. It's a setting only found in the laptop/desktop version of discord. (see screenshot for proof) I believe Tumblr is probably working on something similar. To allow users to have the original experience by going through the website. For now you still have the browsers on your phone. Also screenshotted, where staff said in their post they're working on a workaround.

All this to say, you guys need to stop freaking out. Yes, tumblr is broken, tumblr's been broken for a hot minute, but you know what? This latest censorship dirge is not tumblr's fault. It's apples. And there are workarounds, pretty piss easy workarounds like using your browser instead of your app. It's not even that much more difficult. I know this is frustrating, but being reactionary and spreading misinformation isn't going to do anything but harm people who are looking for solutions.

#tumblr #tumblr meta #tumblr update #tumblr hell #tumblr ios #apple #tumblr app #tumblr website #information #seriously you guys need to stop freaking out #read the post #it's not that hard

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enhypia · 3 years

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JS ; exes

exes answers questions with the choice of drinking instead of answering

pairings: park jongseong x gn!reader

genre: angst, mild fluff

words: roughly 1.7k

masterlist ⸺ series masterlist

~guides and warnings~

italics - reader speaking

bold - jay speaking

[enclosed] - interviewer speaking

italicized bold - both reader and jay speaking

[enclosed bold or italics] - question (depends on who's speaking)

heavily inspired by: rec.create lie detector games, cut truth or drink

warning: contains and mentions of !!! drinking, swearing, neglect, breaking up

i don't promote underage drinking, save your livers

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

hello, i'm (y/n)

and i'm jay

we're (awkward eye contact)

uhh we're exes

[you guys were invited here today as exes for a fun little drinking game, you guys were aware of that right?]

yes

yup

*interviewer shuffles awkwardly

sorry it's just, our friends were the ones who signed up for us

yeah, we just found out about it three days ago

[but are you guys still okay with doing this?]

we're okay

just give us a few minutes to get used to environment

*(y/n) chuckles

[okay, for this game, questions will be asked and if you refuse to answer, you drink, it's that simple. are you guys ready? should we start?]

*jay nods

ready as i'll ever be

[how long were you guys together?]

we were together for almost 3 years

[how long have you guys been broken up?]

about a year and a half now

[who broke up with who?]

i did they did

[why did you break up with him?]

so this was all a year and a half ago okay? no coming for jay, he's grown, we've grown

thanks?

you're welcome

*jay laughs

uhh.. it just really reached a point where i felt neglected in a way? and it was just tiring? i kept thinking 'do i deserve this treatment?' and i hated that i was doubting everything, including his feelings. so i just said let's talk about it and then yeah we split up

*jay drinks and (y/n) laughs

sorry sorry

nah i just needed that

[okay, how about we officially start the q&a portion between the of you now?]

*both nod and played rock paper and scissors to determine who gets to ask first, jay wins

*he picks up a card and facepalms after seeing the question

goddamn

should i be scared?

not sure, but you might opt to drink though

[do you blame me for what happened to us?]

oh my god *(y/n) laughs

i know right

so we're unpacking emotions today? okay noted

you can just drink if you're not comfortable with it

i'll drink but i'll still answer, might ease your mind no?

*jay couldn't stop his head from nodding

*(y/n) drinks

i admit that i blamed you at first, but then i got to thinking that it wasn't just you, i was also at fault too since i never really vocalized what i felt? i just let it build up until it reached the point where you couldn't do anything about it anymore, and i couldn't too.

yeah but it's more of my fault since i felt something was wrong but i just brushed it off, i brushed you off.

....

shot?

*jay smiles slightly and both raised their glasses to cheers before drinking

we were both at fault and i don't blame you, jay. i hope you stop blaming yourself

*(y/n) smiles softly then picks up a card to stop any reply they might get from jay

god why are these questions so heavy? it wasn't like this from other episodes

*jay and crew laugh

okay, hit me

[what's your biggest regret about our relationship?]

what the fuck

SEE ?!

*both laugh and jay drinks

okay, next question

no, i'm answering

[we won't stop you but just reminding you both that it's okay not to answer if you drink]

the alcohol releases the unhinged-ness

in other words, this is really just us using the alcohol to actually say what we feel

i think you already the answer, and it's that i didn't do anything about us even if i felt something was wrong. i just kept on focusing on my career that i reached a point where i brushed everything off as nothing. and in the end, while i got the success i wanted, somehow i also feel like i'm on the losing end really.

*(y/n) drinks making jay laugh

what? it's my first time hearing all this !

it was a rough break so

omg is this our closure ???

*jay's eyes widened

and it's filmed ?!?!

*everyone laughs

couple goals *(y/n) does a hashtag

oh wait *(y/n) looks at jay

exes goals *both do a hashtag pose

*they laugh, ignoring the sting in their hearts

okay, okay moving on

*jay laughs again

is it a heavy one again?

nope

[do your friends hate me?]

*(y/n) bursts out laughing

please 😭

we have the same friends

we share a lot of mutual friends

that's why there was like tension for a month in the friend group because no one knew what to do

i'm sorry you had to endure all that friends

remember when they literally made an organized schedule to hang out where we wouldn't see each since the break up was still fresh?

yeah like i got heeseung on tuesdays

and i got him on thursdays

😭😭😭

we love them though, they did their best to console us both

thanks guys <33

*(y/n) picks up a card

goddammit

[do you think we could've actually worked out our problems?]

i think it's unfair that i get a lot of heavy questions

i have the power of god and anime on my side today

i think we could've, if i just had taken the actual time to reflect and sit down and talk, we could've worked it out.

*(y/n) slaps jay's arm

i told you, stop blaming yourself

*(y/n) rolls their eyes

*jay picks up a card and

what?

*he is stuttering guys, he is fidgeting

[do you wish we were still together?]

yeah

.....

*both drink

i mean-

*jay has been paralyzed, he did not expect (y/n) to answer

i'm happy where i am right now, maybe there are moments of weakness that the thought crosses my mind but i don't dwell on it too much. i think we're both still learning and growing.

*jay doesn't want to think about the fact that (y/n) never said a clear yes or no

*(y/n) picks up a card and groans

please just drink to this

why?

[what do you think of me now?]

....

drink.

no?

why?

because-

why?

i'm answering

why?

i want to?

no.

right now i'm just really proud of you.

*WORLD PAUSE, (y/n) is malfunctioning

it's a little sad that i didn't get to witness a lot of it but i promise i watched from afar and i'm so proud of you. like it makes me feel lighter in a way? knowing that you're still going and pursuing your dreams. it just made me at ease that -

*(y/n) drinks, looking very much like snow white's apples

are you blushing?

jay i will kick you

*he laughs and pinches (y/n) cheeks making them redder, (y/n) slaps his hands away

i won't hesitate bitch

how about you huh?

[what do you think of me now?]

*jay you should know not to tease too much or else it'll bite you back

i think you're absolutely amazing.

*jay could only blame himself

i am in constant awe and there's this pride that i have in me whenever i see you thriving. it's weird because i thought i'd be bitter about it, but since i knew of your goals and how passionate you were, all i felt was pride. it did hurt a little that i couldn't go "that's my baby!" anymore.

*alert! jay's ears are red and it's spreading to his cheeks and neck

okay next question!

*he quickly picks up a card making (y/n) burst out laughing

everything i said was true though.

hajima. stop. pause. i'm not listening

*(y/n) laughs at flustered jay

this is the last one.

[question for both: if you could tell me anything, what would you say?]

sheesh

same

rock paper scissors? loser goes first

*jay wins

*(y/n) drinks

can you turn around for this one, like don't look at me.

*jay followed

i want to say that,,,, that it's not your fault for putting your future first. it kind of stung since you made me feel like i wasn't a part of it but i know that wasn't your intention. i understand your actions and i don't blame you. if i was in your position i probably would've been the same. i'm sorry that i didn't try harder, like you said we could've made it work but i just got so tired, i hope you can forgive me for that as well.

okay i'm turning around as well, your turn

*(y/n)'s eyes are glassy, but jay doesn't need to see that

i want to say that i'm sorry for neglecting you. i feel like you're tired of me saying sorry but that's really all i could do. i forgive you by the way even if i don't get why you're apologizing to me. i also want to say that, it wasn't you. it sounds cliche but you weren't the reason i became like that, it was me. it was never you. so please don't blame yourself for anything. please don't question your worth because you were more than enough.

yah i didn't want to unpack that

well i still know you and i was given the chance to say it now so

*(y/n) turns around wiping tears, jay is sniffling

i need a drink damn

*(y/n) pours a shot and jay as well, both drink after clinking their glasses

[you guys good?]

*both looks at each other and chuckles

we're good

i can't believe we have to thank our friends for setting this up

*jay groans

[care to answer one last question that is in everyone's minds' right now?]

oh god

is it what i think it is

[will we see you guys be featured again? maybe exes to couples again?]

let's drink!

*both take one last shot and waves to the camera

*(y/n) shrugs and jay winks

bye~

»————-　♡　————-«

bonus: youtube comments (peep last one)

masterlist ⸺ series masterlist

a/n: i was planning to post this sooner but my pharma prof suddenly dropped a 6-page activity lmao rip, im scheduling the timestamps i forgot to post last update sorry sorry. my angst skills are subpar forgive me but i tried my best. i hope you like this one too !! jake's will be uploaded next ! please look forward to it <33

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi, I love your blog so much! I recently got ankle lateral ligament reconstruction done, and as an athlete, it sucks so bad. I watched my basketball team play yesterday, and it felt really horrible to watch them lose by one point in overtime when I know I would have made a difference if I were on the court... I know you have lots of asks and prompts, but if you have the time and want to, could you possibly hurt me more than I’m already hurting with some angsty ankle injury stuff😩 like maybe Cap watching the Lions lose without him.

Thank you for all the awesome fics you write! Your blog is amazing!

Anon, this ask really struck a chord with me and I wanted to do it justice as best I could--going through a sports injury like that is the worst feeling in the world, and watching your teammates play without you just adds salt to the wound. Sending all the love and healing vibes your way, okay? Please keep me updated on how you're feeling if you feel comfortable <3

Combined with an ask for pre-Coops and Sirius' photo of Remus! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for canonical injury and mentioned scars (Remus)

Sirius felt a nudge at his arm and his irritation flared, but he did not take his eyes off the game. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as James missed yet another blatant pass. There’s three.

The next nudge was more insistent.

“What?” he snapped, sparing half a glance to his left and feeling his stomach swoop.

Remus raised his eyebrows and held the mouthguard out further. “Either put this in or unclench your jaw.”

You’re not my mother, Sirius almost snarked back, just to be even more of an asshole. He was cold from being at the rink without his gear, severely pissed off by the general bullshit happening on the ice, and the itch in the boot locked around his stupid fucked-up ankle was slowly driving him mad.

Remus offered the mouthguard again, and Sirius’ temper cooled by a few degrees at the soft encouragement on his face. Pretty, his brain supplied. He swallowed hard around his sudden dry mouth and shoved the plastic between his teeth, beating back the unruly emotions with a mental baseball bat. Nope. Not tonight. Focus on being angry.

Logan got distracted, and Finn paid the price as an enforcer slammed him against the boards; he bounced back immediately, but Sirius ground the mouthguard so hard it squeaked. “Tabarnak—”

“Come with me for a sec,” Remus said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the angry shouts of Lions fans.

Sirius shook his head. What he wouldn’t give to be in the heart of the fight, letting off some of the steam that had been building with no outlet for weeks. “Game’s not over.”

Remus pressed his lips together, but said nothing; Sirius’ throat constricted as he looked at the scoreboard. There may have been three full minutes left on the clock, but the Lions had already lost—unless they pulled a miracle out of their asses, this game would be a stain on their record. Or if they just let me play.

Sirius sighed through his nose. The urge had been growing stronger the longer he stayed cooped up and restless, banging at the walls of his brain and bringing headache after headache.

“Cap.” The hand on the back of his bicep was surprisingly gentle and he closed his eyes as Remus gave him a light tug. “Come on. We can at least be productive instead of sitting here and stewing.”

He smells nice. How does he always smell so nice? Sirius stood and followed Remus down the tunnel, not even bothering to force smiles for the people pounding on the glass partitions. Don’t focus on the game.

Focus on his shoulders, something close to his heart suggested. You like his shoulders.

He scrunched his nose up at the thought—if he dwelled on the smooth, strong curve of Remus’ upper back for any longer, he would start remembering the one time he saw them bare, covered in sweat with scars that shone like moonlight and—

“Are you okay?” Remus asked, snapping him back to reality. Sirius jumped and concern flickered over the golden planes of his face. “You’re twitchy tonight.”

“Just…” He made a vague, aborted motion toward the ice before continuing toward the PT room, though he did not miss the worried look Remus shot him. Fantastic, now I look like a dick and an idiot.

“What’s going on, Sirius?” The door clicked closed behind them and Remus leaned against it with his arms crossed loosely as Sirius limped over to the table and sat down, pulling the mouthguard out. He stared at the floor and the hunk of plastic—don’t think about how nice his voice sounds around your name. Don’t.

He shook his head; through the door, the sounds of the game were faint. “They’re better than this.”

“Yep.”

“They’re all going to be angry tomorrow, which makes them sloppy.”

“Probably.”

“Coach will be upset.”

“No question.”

“It’s the Badgers.”

Remus made a face. “I know, right?”

“They’re a good team, but—” He tightened his jaw again and looked away.

“But we’re better,” Remus finished for him.

“Yeah.” Silence fell between them for a few moments, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Being quiet around Remus was never uncomfortable, and Sirius was pathetically grateful for every scrap of it he could get. “I—the game would be different if I was out there.”

“Would it?”

“It would.” He had been going over every mistake for two and a half hours, placing himself in like a chess piece to stop the missed passes, fumbled pucks, and thoughtless plays. “They need me with them.”

The paper crinkled as Remus sat down next to him, and every one of Sirius’ senses went on high alert. “They need to you get better,” he said simply, those caramel-apple eyes making Sirius’ knees go weak. “Have you been doing your exercises?”

“Of course,” he scoffed.

“Good.” There was no defensiveness or indignation in Remus’ voice—guilt snapped, a firecracker behind his teeth.

“Sorry.”

Remus smiled wryly. “When you’re around injured hockey players all day long, you get used to a little bit of bitchiness.”

“I’m not bitchy!” Sirius spluttered. The poorly-concealed amusement on Remus’ face made mortification heat his cheeks. “I’m not!”

“Uh-huh.” The note of smug disbelief should not have been as attractive as it was. “Alright, lay down.”

Sirius swore he heard a few crackling noises as his brain short-circuited. “Quoi?”

“I’m not kneeling on freezing linoleum to check out your ankle, Cinderella,” Remus snorted. “Now get a wiggle on.”

“You have the strangest sayings,” he said as he laid back and stretched his leg out, bewildered and yet somehow relieved.

“And you—” Remus pulled the top buckle free. “—have no appreciation for the great American north.”

“I can take it off,” Sirius mumbled, feeling redness rise once again.

He cocked an eyebrow. “The boot? I might not be a muscle-bound athlete, but I’m pretty sure I can manage a couple strips of Velcro.”

“No, it’s—doesn’t touching people’s feet freak you out? Like, the sweat and everything?”

“If it did, I’d have to find another profession, because I’m damp all the time from you fuckers and you all seem to have a habit of breaking things below the knee. Bend.”

Sirius complied, drawing his knee toward his chest. His bare foot looked weird in the bright lights, pale and still swollen, but Remus was as golden as ever. You can watch from afar, he conceded when the cute little furrow appeared on Remus’ forehead while he felt around the bone. Just for a little while. “Your hands are warm,” he said before he could stop himself.

Remus glanced up, and his small smile caused a flood of butterflies in Sirius’ stomach. “Thanks. They’re usually pretty cold, so I’m glad I’m not accidentally giving you foot hypothermia.”

“Is that real?”

“No,” Remus laughed. Sirius wished he could keep that sound forever. “How’s that feel?”

“Uh, fine.” He blinked a couple times to come back to himself as Remus put light pressure on the sole of his foot. “Still fine.”

“You’re a lot more flexible than before. Things are healing well.”

A loud buzzer went off outside—Sirius closed his eyes as disappointment and frustration fired up once more. The crowd wasn’t cheering. The windows weren’t shaking. He didn’t even want to look at the TV to check the score. I should be out there, he thought for the umpteenth time. I’m letting them down.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said quietly as he worked through a few more exercises.

“Not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either.”

Sirius wanted to believe him. “I’m the captain.”

“And you’re being responsible by doing this with me so you can heal faster.” People rushed past the door outside, but the PT room remained peaceful. Sirius stared at the plain ceiling and wished for a miracle. “They miss you.”

“Y’know, that’s not exactly making me feel better.”

“Sorry.” They lapsed back into silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Cool.”

Sirius chewed the inside of his lip for a solid two minutes, following Remus’ simple instructions without looking at him. He should have been out there with them, ankle be damned. It was basically healed anyway; they were just tying up loose ends, and maybe Remus needed to be a little less careful. “Is this really necessary?”

“I’m gonna give you five seconds to ask a different question.”

“I’m just saying, it feels fine and—”

“Time’s up.” Remus let go of his foot and Sirius only spared a moment to mourn the loss of his comforting touch before he caught the stormy, mulish stubbornness that took the place of Remus’ concentration. “Sit.”

“I am.”

He narrowed his eyes, and Sirius dragged himself upright with a huff. Arguing with Remus Lupin was about as useful as arguing with a brick wall, and that was coming from someone who won the ‘Most Stubborn’ superlative at their last end-of-year party. “First of all, ankles are annoying and the soft tissue will still be damaged even if the bone is healed. Second, it’s my job to fix you up so your boys stop whining to me about healing you faster. And third, I’m not giving up on you.”

Sirius paused for a long moment. “What?”

“I’m not giving up,” Remus repeated. His jaw set and he made direct eye contact. “I would love nothing more than to kick Snape in the kneecaps and let you go out there as soon as you can stand on your own, but that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to make sure you’re ready to kick ass and take names no matter what that little shit was trying to do. So don’t you dare sit there and try to chicken out at the finish line, because I know you want this even more than I do.”

In his chest, Sirius heart was hammering like he had just run five miles. I’m not giving up on you. Sirius had never wanted to kiss him more. “Thank you.”

Remus softened with a slow breath. “We’re in this together, Sirius. You and me.”

“I know.”

“Then let’s get to work. Next time you play the Badgers, make ‘em regret this game.”

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

Sirius walked back toward the locker room feeling rather nauseous. The whole team leaked their bad moods into the air—Arthur had barely looked at them before sending them home with a quiet “we’ll talk more tomorrow”, the equivalent of an arrow through Sirius’ heart. I need a pick-me-up, he thought as the rest of the guys trooped out in a melancholy raincloud. He fist-bumped each of them, per tradition, but their responses were weak at best.

Ice cream sounded good. Maybe a milkshake. Oh, who was he kidding, he needed a solid hug and something other than ice to look at. Not for the first time, he contemplated getting a dog, just so the house wouldn’t be empty and dark when he returned.

Laughter rang out ahead and Sirius inhaled sharply, letting the sound roll over him. “I’m not kidding!” Moody chuckled.

“Bullshit,” Remus countered, still snickering. “There is no way—”

“I’ve been around here longer than you’ve been alive, kid.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Remus groaned, though Sirius could hear the smile in his voice even from around the corner. “You only bring it up every goddamn day.”

“Brat.”

Sirius entered the room just in time to see Remus playfully knock the side of his foot against Moody’s; both were grinning. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, old man?”

Moody nodded to him. “Night, twelve.”

“A demain,” Sirius called, offering a slight smile as his eyes lingered on Remus. He was leaning back against the wall with stick tape in his hands—his hands, which never failed to make Sirius throw caution to the wind—and raised it in farewell. “See you, Loops. Thanks again.”

“No problem, Cap.”

He grabbed his duffel off the floor and slid his keys, wallet, and phone into his pockets as Moody and Remus resumed their conversation. He wondered how long they usually stuck around, and if they would oppose him staying—he wouldn’t interrupt, but being around people who weren’t going through the five stages of grief already felt nice.

An idea struck as Remus’ laugh raised goosebumps on his arms once again. With a careful glance over his shoulder, he slipped his phone out and snapped a picture before hurrying off toward his car. His breaths were shallow; that was such a creepy move, and surely one of them noticed—

No voices chased him. Nobody gave him strange looks. He waited until he was safely in the front seat of the car before unlocking his phone, and all the air in his lungs left in a rush.

The photo was perfect. It caught the lopsided tilt to Remus’ mouth, his slender-but-strong fingers, his long legs, the scrunch of his nose mid-laugh. Everything Sirius never let himself look at for long. He didn’t have much space left among the collection of paper memories on his dresser, but maybe if he put it in the back where nobody would see it unless they knew where to look…

He turned the car on. Later. He would print it out and deal with the taut rubber-band-ball of feelings later. Until then, he could settle for the imprint of Remus’ warmth taking away the pain in his ankle and the determination on his face as he promised to bring Sirius back from the personal hell he was living in. You and me, he had said, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to believe it.

#fanfic #my fic #sirius black #remus lupin #alastor moody #james potter #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #sweater weather #coops #injury #pre-coops #lumosinlove

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Notes: Title stolen from Song Of The Soul XXII by Khalil Gibran.

Companion piece: In the absence of sound (she hears her heart break)

Wrote this indulgent piece angst and fluff to reset after the very angsty The Astrophile (which took a lot of my own heart). As always, comments are gladly appreciated <3

Summary: Yaku bursts into her life like a hurricane, even whilst Akaashi lingers on like the memory of a summer breeze.

Pairings: Yaku x reader, Akaashi x reader

She runs into Yaku at the New Year’s Party the Japanese embassy in Moscow throws for expatriates (a fancy term to describe birds who’ve flown the coop after finding it unbearably small). He’s in the middle of chattering with a bemused waiter in very broken Russian about the spread when he explodes into a delighted laugh, so loud that she startles and spills her drink all over his shoes.

Pandemonium ensues – the restaurant staff scatter to fetch napkins and she’s trying to pick up the pieces of her broken glass, stammering out apologies (because dear god, her boss is going to have her head for upsetting a guest – especially one so prominent as Yaku Morisuke, the only Japanese volleyball player who broke into the Russian professional league), when his laugh cuts through the noise.

‘This was my favourite pair of shoes’ he tells her when he stops laughing, and she’s about to launch into a litany of apologies when he grins at her cheekily – ‘But you can make it up to me by buying me dinner instead’.

‘Now?’ she gapes at him in shock. ‘I can’t, I’m working’.

‘Whenever’, he answers, stealing her phone from her hands. ‘Look – here’s my number. Call me when you can’.

She’s left in shock, watching him in silence as he bounces off to join another conversation.

She texts him that night (because a deal is a deal, and she always pays her debts) and they arrange to meet the next day at a dumpling place he recommends.

She’s there five minutes early, and he bursts into the restaurant five minutes late, apologizing whilst complaining about goddamned Russian traffic. He orders for the both of them in such an excruciatingly terrible Russian accent that she winces, but he must have been here before because the waiter takes their order without batting an eye. The owner, a wizened old lady with apples in her cheeks swings by to smack kisses on his cheeks noisily.

‘It’s a little strange, but it’s the closest thing I can find to home’, he tells her when the waiter presents them with their dumplings with a flourish. It is indeed strange – the dumpling skin is thicker and doughier than she’s used to with Japanese gyozas, stuffed with varying fillings of beef and pork and cheese, but his eyes are bright when she takes her first bite and gives a hum of appreciation because it is as he says, strange but good.

There is indeed an echo of home in her heart but she clamps it down firmly.

‘It’s good right?’ he asks and she nods mutely, mouth full of dumplings. He talks her ear away, telling her about his time in the Russian league, how he’s just made the first team this week. She learns he can’t remember a time when he doesn’t know the feel of a volleyball in his hands, and how he broke his mother’s heart when he chose to train outside of Japan, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.

He asks her why she’s in Moscow. She tells him she’s studied Russian as a child – her father, a math professor, believed it necessary for her and her sister to learn Russian, and while she’s never quite had a head for numbers, she takes to languages like a fish to water – and since she was looking for a new adventure, Moscow seemed like a good fit.

(She does not tell him she’s actually on the run from her broken heart)

‘You can teach me Russian then’, his words presumptuous, but there’s mirth and warmth flickering in his eyes that makes her hesitate to tell him off.

‘Maybe’, she responds with a shrug, standing up to pay the bill. To her surprise he lets her pay without a fight - very unlike Akaashi, who had only agreed grudgingly to allow her to split the bill on their first date.

‘It’s my turn to pay when we go out next time’, he tells her when they stand outside the restaurant about to part.

‘Will there be a next time?’ she asks him archly, and he pouts at her with puppy-dog eyes. He texts her less than five minutes after he takes his leave, inviting her to an ice skating rink.

To neither of their surprise, there is indeed, a next time, and a next time after that.

Yaku has an extremely sweet tooth, unlike Akaashi who prefers the bitterness of black coffee.

She tells him to drop in on her apartment after training (only if he’s up to it of course, she’s learnt that lesson from Akaashi after all). He does so without complaint, and she’s removing the pie from the oven when he lets himself in with the key he sweet-talked out of her.

‘Tadaima’, he calls cheerily, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he drops his gloves on the kitchen table. ‘Is that for me?’ he asks, gaping bug-eyed at the steaming pie in her hands.

‘I don’t see anyone else it could be for’, she teases, setting the pie down on the table, cutting him a slice. The fruit seller at the corner of her street had a sale on apples, and she remembers Yaku telling her that he used to buy apple pie on the way to school every week, but would always end up giving it up to Kenma as a bribe to train harder during practice and finish running his laps.

He takes a bite and moans loudly even though he burns his tongue – it’s so good, a flaky, buttery crust hiding a jammy filling of caramelized apple and browned butter. It tastes like home in the fall when the leaves turn golden and red, when his mother brings home apples on discount from the store and he and his little brothers fight over the apples pastries his grandmother makes.

‘I love you’, he declares firmly, as he reaches for a second helping, and he pretends not to notice when she shrinks back and does not respond.

Yaku revels in public displays of affection - unlike Akaashi, who used to shy away from it.

‘I like your hair. Have you always kept it short?’ He asks her one day when they’re feeding ducks in the park near his house.

She laughs at him as he quacks exaggeratedly back at a very greedy duck chasing the bread in his hand and answers without thinking - ‘no, I cut it before I left Japan because I hear it’s what break-ups make you do’. Then she freezes, because this is the first time she’s ever alluded to Keiji to him – it’s a part of her life that she’d very much like to bury in a deep, dark vault and throw the key away.

But the expression on his face is very much like a cat eyeing a rat it’d like very much to trap and she’s right, he’s relentless (she should’ve known that, could’ve seen that from just watching one of his matches). As he walks her home, she finds herself telling him about Keiji - how his lack of affection and inability to step away from his job created a silence so still she heard her heart break.

When she finishes what she self-deprecatingly terms her tale of woe, he pulls her to a stop, ignoring the indignant protests of the people walking behind them. ‘What on earth, Mori’, she squawks, but he ignores her too, choosing instead to wind his hands into the ends of her scarf and tug her face to face with him. She does not want to look at him, does not want to see pity in his eyes – but there is none of that, only a quiet tenderness that warms her to her core.

‘I love you’, he tells her softly, and it’s a wonder she can hear every inflection of his voice through the rush of blood to her ears. ‘I will continue saying it as many times as you need, as loudly as I can until your heart is no longer broken and the silence is gone’.

Then, without an ounce of shame, he kisses her right in the middle of the busy street, completely oblivious to the glares of the people who pass them by.

Yaku is quick to anger, whereas Akaashi is the calm before the storm.

She’s told him again and again not to send her flowers – she swears she’s developed an allergy to them, the memory of Keiji sending her flowers every Friday even after they broke up sends bile up her throat (pink camellias for longing, violets for devotion, forget-me-nots for obvious reasons) – but Yaku doesn’t listen and sends her a bouquet of red roses for her birthday (for love).

So she screams at him when he pops by her flat after training – because why on earth doesn’t he just listen to her, he knows she hates flowers, what on earth would possess him to send her flowers for her birthday, and he screams back that he does, damn it - but he’s not Keiji, he’s spent their entire time together trying to prove that, why can’t she just trust him for once.

Finally, he storms out shouting that he’ll come back when she’s calmed down, when she’s finally ready to forgive him for whatever Keiji has done – even though for the last goddamned time, he’s not bloody Keiji and she sinks to the floor, wondering why she’s allowed the ghost of Keiji to continue haunting her, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.

He’s right - it isn’t fair to him for her to keep comparing him to Keiji, to keep watching and waiting for him to slip up, not when he’s poured all his love and affection into her – into them . He’s not Keiji, never has been and never will be, and she wonders if this is the point his patience and kindness and love finally runs out.

But she’s not going to let another man she loves walk out of her life without a fight.

So she throws on her coat and climbs down the stairs, determined to march to Yaku’s apartment just a couple of streets away when she slams into him head-first at the corner of her street. ‘I’m sorry’ they both chorus immediately, and despite themselves, they break into a laugh.

‘I’m sorry for not listening’, he says, but she shakes her head, determined to say her piece. ‘You're right, it's my fault for not letting Keiji go. I should have figured this out earlier, but I know you’re not Keiji, you never have been, and I trust you never will be’.

And to drive the point home, thanking her lucky stars he’s not tall, she pulls him close by his collar and presses her lips to his. ‘I love you’, she whispers, when they finally come up for air. He looks at her like she just hung the stars up in the sky.

The next day, she presents him with a literal bushel of red roses, and he laughs at that - loud and clear and bright.

(The sound makes her heart feel whole again)

‘Why don’t you move with me’, Yaku asks her matter of factly through a mouthful of rice, at the end of her tirade about her awful landlord who just tried to stiff her by doubling her rent in less than a year with a month’s notice.

She stills, hand frozen halfway to her mouth. He does not swallow for fear of choking the mix of uncertainty and hope rising in his throat - because sometimes even though he promises to wait for her as long as she needs, he wonders if she’ll ever forget that he’s not her bloody ex – until he senses her relaxing her tense shoulders, and decides to close in for the kill.

‘Come on’, he wheedles. ‘We could even adopt a kitten so you won’t be lonely when I’m away for work’, and he laughs fondly when her face lights up. There we go.

‘You drive a hard bargain, but alright’, she pretends to grouse, but she laughs along with him when he triumphantly presses his lips to her cheek, dodging her swats when she scolds him for leaving grains of rice on her face.

They adopt a black kitten from the shelter and they name him ‘Kuroo’.

Much like its namesake, their cat is a piece of shit and contrary as hell. He doubles over in laughter when he comes home one day to find her chasing Kuroo (the cat, not the middle blocker) around the house, furniture upended everywhere. He later understands through her huffs that she meant to give him a bath.

He sends endless pictures of Kuroo (again, the cat and not the middle blocker) to the Nekoma groupchat and they all fall head over heels in love. Kai sends him advice on how to grow catnip in an apartment. Fukunaga asks to video call the cat more than he texts him. Shibayama and Inouka ship a box of clothes for the cat because they’re worried it won’t survive the Russian winter. The worst offenders are Kenma who sets up social media accounts for it, and bloody international supermodel Lev who pours oil on flames by tagging the damn cat on his own posts. Yaku is alarmed to wake up one day and find that his cat is more popular than him.

Well, all of them save for its namesake, who threatens to retaliate by naming his dog ‘Yaku’.

He gets drafted onto the National Team, and he’s elated until he realizes that he’ll have to spend months away from her.

‘It’s fine’, she reassures him. ‘Kuroo will keep me company while you’re back home’. The little demon licks its ass and looks intolerably smug when he shoots a glare at it behind her back, because he knows damn well the cat is going to take advantage of his absence to take over his side of the bed.

He extracts a promise from her to call him every day (screw the time difference, seriously) and he in turn promises to send her tickets to watch him play. Then he packs his bags and flies back to Tokyo.

It’s nostalgic being back in his childhood home. The posters from his teenage years are still on his bedroom walls (gods – he was such a horny bastard back then), and his mother smothers him with his favourite foods and far too much attention. But he lays awake at night thinking of their little apartment filled with the smell of her baking and the sound of her singing and realizes he misses Kuroo - again, the cat, not the middle blocker, who’d miss him - despite its despicable way of stalking him while he takes a shit and most of all - he misses her.

He figures he has it bad when he starts turning down his grandmother’s apple pastries because they remind him too painfully of the apple pies she makes after either of them have had a hard day at work, and wonders when he started thinking of Moscow and the little apartment he shares with her as home.

But he soldiers on because playing for Japan is his dream (and has been, ever since he first learnt the thrill of keeping the ball in flight with his hands), and gets by on video calls and texts and pictures of Kuroo and the promise of dumplings and apple pies when he comes home.

He makes the mistake of mentioning that he has a girlfriend in Miya Atsumu’s earshot after practice one day.

‘You have a girlfriend?’ the piss-haired setter asks in disbelief. ‘You? Mr bossy - under five foot five – libero-chan managed to land himself a girl that’s willing to tolerate him?’

‘Just because you have an issue keeping girls from running away from you doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t find girlfriends’, Sakusa interjects flatly, face firmly masked up, trusty bottle of sanitizer pointed in Atsumu’s direction.

Yaku is about to claw Atsumu’s eyes out when Hinata prances by and asks to see a picture of said girlfriend. Growling, he whips out his phone, and is mollified when the rest of the team crowds around and pronounces her to be very pretty. Everyone – except Atsumu, who sulks in a corner, sneering that he could do better (no he can’t - he really can’t get a girl to save his life), and Bokuto, who corners him later when he’s about to leave.

‘She used to date Akaashi, you know?’ Bokuto tells him solemnly, a marked departure from his usual jovial self. ‘They broke up on a pretty bad note’.

Yaku does not in fact know, because she’s never mentioned her ex-boyfriend’s last name, always opting to refer to him as ‘Keiji’, a fairly popular name for guys their age. ‘Oh?’ he replies, and tries his best to sound encouraging and not derisive or threatening or whatever it is that Atsumu has accused him of over the past few weeks of training.

‘Yeah. She’s a nice girl, I met her once or twice, but between you and me, I don’t think Akaashi is really over her’.

Too bad for him, he wants to say but doesn’t, because despite whatever Atsumu might say about him, he’s tactful, thank you very much, and knows it’s probably not the best idea to badmouth his teammate’s best friend to his face, especially a teammate he likes as much as Bokuto. Instead, he stuffs his shoes in his bag, shrugging and grunting noncommittally before heading off.

He doesn’t mention this to her during their nightly video calls. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want them to have to talk about him being an old acquaintance with her idiot ex over a call, their time together is too precious to be tainted by any mention of him. But there’s a part of him that wonders if it’s because he’s afraid that she’ll bump into Akaashi when she’s back in Japan and he might convince her to let him sweep her away. Akaashi is tall, dark and handsome, and most definitely smarter and more educated after all - a better match for her than him, an idiot that chases balls for a living.

But then her laughter chimes through his phone’s speakers as he pouts when she carries Kuroo to the screen to ask if he misses his daddy (the traitorous hell spawn refuses to even look at him) and it banishes the shadow of his doubts away. It’s as clear as day that she loves him, ball chasing idiot Yaku Morisuke.

He falls asleep to the sound of her humming his favourite songs.

She flies to Japan with their cat in tow a week before the Olympics and even though he’s moved into the Olympic dorms by then, he sneaks out to meet her for dinner as often as he can. Atsumu catches him once and grumbles something about ‘hypocritical bossy know-it-alls’ - but shuts up when Yaku turns up for practice the next day and is too busy grinning ear to ear to yell at him for flubbing an easy receive as he usually does.

When he finally steps onto the court for his first match, it’s easy to get carried away, because the light bearing down on the court is brighter than any game he’s played in before, and the roar of the home crowd is so loud he swears the tremors in his feet are from the floor - but he doesn’t. Because there’s a girl in the VIP stands shouting his name, and maybe it’s childish of him, but he has something to prove - he wants to make her proud.

And he does, because they win.

The entire team is in the locker room when he hears the clatter of familiar footsteps, then a shrieked ‘Mori’ before she tackles him into a bone-crushing hug. Atsumu barks at her ‘not to break our dear libero-chan’, but neither of them pay him any mind - she doesn’t even care that he’s literally dripping in sweat and snot and tears - because they won, they won, they won -

Then he looks up and sees Akaashi staring at them. Ah. The idiot ex-boyfriend has to ruin their moment.

Just as he’s wondering whether his fist should meet Akaashi’s eye or nose first, Bokuto swings by at the moment to distract her. She’s so excited at seeing a familiar face that she disengages herself from their hug and throws her arms around Bokuto instead. Yaku thinks that Bokuto is probably a lot smarter than most people give him credit for as Akaashi approaches him, his hand outstretched.

‘Take care of her’, Akaashi says with a bittersweet smile on his lips. ‘You’re a lucky man’.

He pauses briefly to glance at her - and gods she’s radiant even as she’s chattering away to Bokuto, her eyes sparkling, the light shining softly on her hair - fuck, Atsumu’s right, he’s whipped - and tries to imagine a world where she slips through his hands. Suddenly, the twisted knot of spite in his chest unravels, and he can only feel the dregs of pity pooling in his belly. He's not blind, he can recognise the look of wistful regret on the taller man’s face, and he's certainly not deaf - he suspects that if he listens hard enough, he can hear Akaashi’s heart break.

I know, I’m lucky to have her - he wants to say but does not because that would mean twisting a knife in an already broken man. Instead, he steps forward to take Akaashi’s hand.

‘Always’, he promises firmly. Akaashi inclines his head in thanks.

Her heart is safe in my hands.

She returns to Russia first, and he follows a few weeks later, after a whirlwind of awards and press interviews.

He breaks into a run when he sees her standing at the arrivals gate with a bouquet of red roses and a cheeky grin on her face. ‘You’re rubbing it in at this point’, he pretends to pout, but rather spoils its effect when he swings her into his arms.

She cooks dumplings for dinner and there’s an apple pie waiting for him in the oven. His jaw drops in surprise when the dumplings taste exactly like his mother’s cooking. ‘I learnt it from your mum while you were at training, in case you already miss home’, she teases.

‘But with you, I am home’, he responds, his voice earnest and low. She flushes pink and blushes bright red when he carries her off to bed.

She is his home now, she and their cat in their little flat in Moscow bursting at its seams with apple pies and dumplings and love .

‘I want this to be my forever’, he tells her later, laying his head in her lap. His heart skips a beat, waiting for her response.

‘So do I’, she finally replies, running her hands through his hair. Her heart hums quietly, finally in safe hands.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu #haikyuu fic rec #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!#yaku morisuke #yaku morisuke x reader #nekoma #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi angst #akaashi imagine #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu romance

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winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

inherited.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this popped into my head fully formed. when i thought too hard about it, i cried. It’s sweet. enjoy! tell me what you think! this takes place in au!october 2022

words: 2k warnings: language, tooth-rotting fluff

summary: “i don’t have stepchildren, i have children who happened to be born before i met them.” – unknown

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

You’re laid out flat on the bed, tooling around on your phone, when Jack comes in, gets a running start, and flops onto the bed beside you. His feet hang off the opposite side yours do, your heads close together.

Elliot and the girls are napping the early afternoon away, Jack had an early-release day from school, Aaron’s taking a half-day, and Isaac’s still stuck on that 750-piece puzzle on your office floor. You left one of the baby monitors in the nursery and one with him, just in case. The faint, staticky sound of him talking to himself grumbles through the little speaker on Aaron’s bedside table.

Jack doesn’t say anything, but pulls his phone out and starts doing whatever newly-minted seventeen-year-olds do on his phone beside you.

You, on the other hand, need to take care of an email from Aaron.

To: [email protected] From: [email protected]

CC: [email protected]

SSA Hotchner,

See attached for your quarterly performance evaluation from your supervisor, BAU Unit Chief SSA Emily Prentiss, cc’d here. Please direct any questions or concerns to SSA Prentiss.

Best, SSA Aaron Hotchner, J.D. Northeast Investigations and Operations Support Section Chief Quantico, VA

P.S. Leaving the office in 30. See you soon xx

You draft a quick reply and send it.

To: [email protected] From: [email protected]

Received.

Thanks, Hotch.

Best, SSA _______ Hotchner Behavioral Analysis Unit, Quantico, VA

P.S. Come in quietly thru the garage - C, S, E are still out.

With a roll of your eyes, you put your phone down and take a moment to look at Jack.

He’s nearly a man, the baby fat falling from his jaw and cheekbones, getting taller by the day. Much to Aaron’s chagrin, they’re about the same height now.

Jack’s eyes flicker from his phone and meet yours for a split second. “What?”

“Just lookin’ at you.”

A little puff of a laugh leaves his nose. “Why?”

One side of your mouth lifts. “I know you’re tired of hearing this, but if you ever have kids of your own, you’ll get it.”

He hums, tossing his phone onto the pillow behind him. “Well, yeah. I got that, but why?”

You roll onto your side, curling your legs fully onto the bed. It’s a good question, and one for which you’re not sure you have an answer. Thinking for a moment, you sigh. “So, with you, for example. I can’t really put it into words, but you’re a bit of a miracle.”

He squints (just like Aaron) and you continue.

“I have the privilege of being your mom, which is a title that isn’t really mine.” You tuck the inside of your lip between your teeth, trying to figure out how to articulate it.

It’s not that I don't want to be your mom but in the world where I’m not your mom, Haley is still here.

But there are some days I miss her so much I wish I didn’t have to be your mom. She was always going to be ‘mom.’

But then it’s the best thing in the world to be your mom and I wouldn’t want it any other way…

Fuck.

You start slow. “It’s a bit of a bittersweet thing. I never expected to be ‘mom’ to you while Haley was alive. No matter what would have or could have happened between your dad and me, Haley is your mom. So, the knowledge that we’re here - you and I, in this house with your brothers and sisters and your dad, the way we are - is very much grounded in Haley’s absence.”

You shake your head, realizing you’re getting off topic. “All this to say, it’s a bit of a miracle that I get to be your mom, and not just mom to those other little gremlins infesting this house.”

You both smile.

“And sometimes, I just need to stare at you, make sure you’re real, and sit in that kind of...feeling that I can’t quite articulate.”

Jack’s been listening the whole time, his brown eyes soft and open. “I think I get that. It makes sense - even if you and Dad still got married and had more kids, Haley would be ‘Mom’ and you would be...something else.”

You smile a little. “I guess you could say I inherited the title, in some ways.”

“That’s a good way to put it.” His eyes wander up to the ceiling, pensive.

“You know, I can’t remember a time when you weren’t around. Like, not every memory has you in it because you weren’t always there, but...there isn’t a single, like, phase of my life when you weren’t in it.”

It's your turn to listen.

“And I don’t remember my mother very well. You and Dad always made sure I knew who she was - I feel like I know everything about her, but like…” He trails off for a second before looking back at you. “She still feels like a stranger, a little bit.”

You nod. “Someone distant, maybe?”

“Yeah. Like I feel connected to her and everything but you’re my mom. You’ve always been that person for as long as I can remember. I can’t imagine anything else.” He shakes his head a little. “It wouldn’t be right to call you anything else.”

A shaky breath leaves you through your mouth, unexpected tears springing into your eyes. Since you’re on the deep end of the conversation pool, you switch gears a little. “Is it ever weird? Having the little ones around? Your dad and I having more kids?”

He immediately shakes his head. “Nah. I can really remember when it was just the two of us - me ‘n Dad - and then then three of us after that one Christmas. But I don’t really miss it? Like, sometimes it gets so fucking loud in this house -”

“Language,” you chastise. It’s weak, at best.

He snorts, revising. “Sometimes, it gets really loud in this house and I have those moments of like, ‘oh my god why are they so loud why can’t it just be me and Mom and Dad again,’ but they never last long.” He laughs a little. “Like right now, they’re just in the other room napping and I miss them.”

“You know when you laugh like that you look just like your mother?”

That sunshine smile breaks across his face again. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” You reach out to him, brushing the apple of his cheek with the side of your finger - just a second, just an affectionate little bit of contact. His smile gets wide enough that you’re treated to one dimple. “But those,” you poke the little indent by the corner of his mouth and he screws his face up. “Those are all your dad’s.”

Jack grows pensive again. “Dad said he’d tell me about the divorce if I wanted to ask.”

Many of your conversations bounce around like this. Fifteen years of life together make up for seemingly contextless non-sequiturs. You know, just like you do with Aaron, he has more to say.

You wait him out.

“If I asked, would you tell me?”

With a sigh, “I can tell you how it was for me as their friend, but I won’t speak for Dad or Haley.”

Jack nods, understanding. “What was it like? Like, the...actual divorce? Did you get caught in the middle?”

“It sucked. It really sucked, but no, I never got caught up in it that way. Sure, they vented to me about each other after it was all over - which,” you add, “by the way, was its own form of comedy.”

That gets a smile out of Jack.

“But they never asked me to tell them they were right or made me feel like I had to choose a side. I would have hated to become a carrier pigeon for their bullshit.” With a chuckle: That’s a recipe for disaster.”

��Ah yeah, miscommunication as a plot device. We covered that in English last semester.”

You laugh. “Exactly. Even then, though, they loved each other so much and they both tried their hardest to make it work, but couldn’t.”

Jack’s thinking again, looking more and more pressed by the minute as he stares at the ceiling.

“What?” You ask.

“I just -” His mouth presses into a thin line, revealing a dimple, and you thank your lucky stars you love Aaron as much as you do because right now, you’re looking at his clone. “I just...I’m trying to think of something that could, like, break you and Dad up...but I literally can’t think of anything. You guys just work.”

He’s thinking out loud, finding the question as he goes. You let him. “Even as mad as you get at each other sometimes, I’ve never been afraid. Even when you’re upset with each other you’re still...I dunno...like, two parts of the same person?” He shakes his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, my love, it does. Your father and I…”

You sigh, knowing you’re exposing yourself for the person you are, instead of hiding behind your role as a parent.

“...we need each other too much, perhaps to a fault. He’s my favorite person and my biggest weakness. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for him, and I know he’s the same way about me.” You pause. “We don’t really know how not to be a team.”

Jack’s seen that in them almost all his life. It doesn't surprise him. He’s not sure he believes in soulmates, but he’d imagine you and Aaron are pretty damn close.

His mouth twists. “I’d imagine a lot of people feel that way until the shit hits the fan.”

You nod, your head wavering from side to side. “Well...yeah. Not everyone feels that way about their spouse, though.”

“Sure,” he relents, looking a bit like a lawyer. “But if they do, how do you get to that place where you call it quits, you know? How do you decide you don’t need each other or love each other? And how do you know who’s wrong?”

Good question.

“I mean, it’s less about who’s wrong, and more about who’s right that causes all the trouble, I think, at least from an outside perspective. With your parents, they were both right in a lot of ways.”

You think for a minute, changing directions a bit. “When there are two right answers that are mutually exclusive, there’s not much you can do. Nobody’s wrong - everyone just wants what they want, and there isn’t a clear compromise. Sometimes, the compromise is too much...So, you can still love each other but not be married, like your dad and Haley.”

“Your mom left,” you continue, “because she reached a breaking point. Her needs and your dad’s needs were mutually exclusive - no compromise existed. And, again, in a lot of ways, they were both right.”

You shrug, admitting, “They both made bad choices and mistakes in that process, but nobody was the bad guy. In some ways, that’s harder. You love them, but you can’t have them in your life in that way.”

His face clears up. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. Like, I’m thinking about friends and stuff - how some friends are really great outside of school but I would never want to do a group project with them - but for...you know, marriage.”

You laugh. “Yeah, it’s a lot like that. And you were just about the only thing your parents could agree on at any given time.”

“Really?”

“Yep. They love you, and always want what’s best for you.” Your eyes flicker to the photo on Aaron’s dresser - the one of you and Haley and Jack nearly fifteen years ago, sandwiching his cheeks in kisses. “When you’re a good parent with that kind of mindset, it’s easy to work as a team for your children.”

“Like you and Dad.”

“Like me and Dad.”

Jack quiets for a minute. “Can I tell you something?”

You turn toward him, reaching kind of up and away for his hand. Your clasped fingers end up between your faces. “Always, my love.”

“Sometimes...Sometimes, I wish I looked more like you.”

Your brow pinches. “Why?” The question is soft, all curiosity.

“I dunno? I think I just like, want to resemble you because you’re my mom, you know?”

You let out a laugh. “Jack you have no idea. You should ask your father how much you resemble me.”

He shakes his head, a confused little smile on his face. “I don’t get it.”

“You have picked up eighty percent of my mannerisms and it drives your dad up the wall.” You sit up, releasing his hand and ruffling his soft dark hair as you pretzel-cross your legs. “So if we’re going by his book, you inherited plenty from me. In fact, more than enough.”

“Alright, see, now that makes sense.” Jack sits up across from you right as the door from the garage opens.

You both wait, quiet, with little smiles on your faces, listening to his car keys hit the kitchen counter (and slide a little - he tossed them), the short walk to his office where he sets his briefcase down and removes his suit jacket (to be hung up later, if he remembers). You can hear him travel to your office, checking on Isaac and looking for you, before taking the stairs two at a time to the baby’s room.

Jack looks over his shoulder and you follow his gaze, tuned into the baby monitor. There’s a shaky kind of sigh that crackles through the speaker, and you can almost see him reaching into the crib.

“If he wakes that baby up,” you say, dead serious, “I’ll kill him.”

Jack sniffs, all business. “I’ll grab the shovel and trash bags and you drive, yeah?”

You offer your hand. Jack shakes on it before dissolving into a fit of conspiratorial giggles. He falls into you, turning so his back is against your chest and his head tipped back against your shoulder.

It’s moments like this where he feels five years old again.

As big as he is and as much of a shit as he can be, he’s still the same boy.

The pair of you are so caught up in your own private joke that you don’t hear Aaron as he crosses the house and leans on the door jamb. When you both catch sight of him, it only makes you laugh harder. You wrap your arms around Jack, trapping him close to you as you hook your chin over his shoulder.

He’s examining you both, brow a little furrowed, mouth a little open in an almost-smile. He’s seen the Mom and Jack Show before - it’s a series that started about ten years ago with about a thousand episodes and no cancellation in sight. “What on earth are you two doing in here?”

Jack drops into a deadpan. “Hypothetically plotting your demise for the hypothetical instance that you hypothetically wake Elliot and hypothetically deprive Mom of her hypothetical peace and quiet.”

Aaron nods, as if deeply considering it. “I see. Well, luckily, we’ve narrowly avoided that hypothetical scenario.”

You smile at him. “So thus, you live another day. Congratulations.”

Aaron breaks with a smile, his commitment to the bit evaporating in the presence of two of his favorite faces. He toes off his shoes and crosses to you both, still all wrapped up and letting little laughs escape. He kisses Jack on the head and you lightly on the lips before flopping down on his back with a satisfied sigh.

You share a devious glance with Jack. Aaron throws a pillow over his face, his voice muffled.

“Yeah, alright, you two. That’s enough.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @cevanswhre @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @spencerelds @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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happylittledrabbles · 3 years

Text

choke me!

Rating: 18+

DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18, NO MINORS!!!

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Eren Yeager

—

"It's been four years, Reiner."

Reiner never thought he'd see Eren again. And yet there he was, sitting in front of him. The two exchange some heated words until Eren has had enough and lunges at Reiner, pinning him against the wall by the throat.

Except, instead of a cry or a shout, Reiner's reaction is a lot more...unexpected.

"Did you just...moan?"

Choking kink fic, basically.

AO3

—

“It’s been four years, Reiner.”

The last person Reiner Braun expected to see tonight was Eren fucking Yeager. He knew he’d see Eren again eventually, he just figured it’d be when Eren was killing him or he was killing the damned menace.

He didn’t think the reunion would be so soon.

They had warned that if Eren were to attack Marley at any time, it’d be tonight. But he had had so much fun at the fair with the kids that he hadn’t fully registered that Eren Yeager still existed. All he could think about was how happy he was to finally be out of that hell that was called Paradis and away from seeing the devils he had grown to love die at the hands of his own people. And he thought he had finally escaped it, except now, the biggest threat among both of their worlds was sitting right in front of him.

“H-how…” No thoughts in his head. There was nothing. Eren’s expression was so calm, it was mocking in comparison to the panic running amok in the blond’s chest.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking in these four years, Reiner Braun.” His name sounded like pure acid on Eren’s tongue. Even if Eren kept his tone measured, Reiner’s name still came out like two spears that pierced him directly in the heart.

“A lot of thinking about how you betrayed us. About how you killed Marco. About how you were my role model. A big brother, really.”

Nausea swirled in his stomach like a hot pit of lava, and he couldn’t help but step back and bump into Falco, who was also petrified; the two of them stilled like perfect marble statues. Reiner had tried hard to forget he ever interacted with Eren, nevermind considered him a friend. There were many times when they were alone together that he almost professed that he was the Armored Titan because he felt so close to him. He felt pride whenever he watched Eren succeed, even though he should have been actively distancing himself from him in preparation for the big operation. When he was supposed to not feel anything at all after breaking through Wall Maria and effectively killing everybody Eren knew, he locked himself in a room and cried and screamed for hours until Bertholdt came in and had to pry his hands from the table and hug him until his other personality took over, and he felt nothing again.

Oh, how he wished his other personality took over now. Then he wouldn’t be able to feel the crippling fear resonating throughout his entire body. Then he wouldn’t be able to feel the pure dread cross his face as Eren grew his missing leg back and stood up, instinctively hugging his arms behind him to make sure Falco was protected.

“I won’t hurt him,” Eren said, his visible eye dropping to the young boy staring at him with stormy blue eyes, wide with terror. He snickered. “Maybe he’ll get caught in the fallout. But, I won’t hurt him now, if that’s what you’re wondering. In fact...” He gestured with his hand for Falco to leave, giving him a chilling smile that he meant to be reassuring. “Go ahead and leave, kiddo. This shouldn’t take long. I just need to talk to my old pal Reiner here.”

“Don’t talk to him,” Reiner whispered shakily, but eventually let Falco go and pushed him forward. “Go. Run as far away as you can. I’ll handle this.” If anything happened, he wanted Falco as far away from the site of disaster as possible.

He turned back to Eren and noticed he was several inches taller than when he last saw him. It made sense; he was a grown adult man now, but it was still a shock. He was so used to peering down at Eren and resting his arm on top of his head, ruffling his hair, tipping his chin back to make eye contact with him. But now, if he slouched even a bit, he’d be shorter.

“How cute. You used to be protective over me like that,” Eren said with a bitter laugh, beginning to step forward when Reiner stepped back and nearly tripped over a chair in response. “What, are you scared of me? Ha. I remember when—”

“Stop!” Reiner cried, slapping his hands over his ears and shaking his head emphatically. “I don’t want to hear it! I don’t—”

“Don’t want to hear what, Reiner? How we used to be friends? How I looked up to you? How we shared so many good times together?” He picked up the chair he was sitting in and smashed it to the ground, the wood strewn across the ground like puzzle pieces. Reiner flinched at the echo of the crackling wood, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Eren blew the splinters off his palms and clapped them together to get rid of the rest of the debris as he walked leisurely around the room with his freshly grown leg, circling Reiner like a hawk to its prey.

“Did you feel anything when you killed Marco? Did you feel anything when I told you my mom was eaten? Knowing it was all your goddamn fault?!” Eren roared, his eye a ball of flaming green fire.

“I—”

“No, you didn’t feel anything. Because if you felt anything, you wouldn’t have tried so hard to get close to me.” Eren unraveled the bandages around his face to reveal his other eye, somehow making the fury blazing in his stare even more potent. He let the bandages drop to the ground, the fabric twisting and turning gently as they fell into a pile. Reiner blinked slowly, so slowly it would have seemed he fell asleep for a moment. He stepped forward, about to reach out to Eren when his breath hitched in his throat, his lungs refusing to expand as he was yet again face-to-face with the boy—man—he had ruined the life of and had grown close to, all at the same time.

He took a deep breath once his lungs began to function again, closing his eyes to block out Eren’s intense glare.

“I was always your friend, Eren,” he clarified, taking the chance to raise his arm up and reach out to the other man in hopes of understanding, of doing something to prevent whatever he was about to do. He flinched at the sound of applause outside, a horrifying reminder of the sheer number of people outside that Eren could so easily massacre in the span of a minute if he transformed. If only he could teleport and tell Willy to get everybody the hell out of there. But alas, he was confined to this basement with nobody other than the embodiment of the Attack Titan.

“Please believe me,” he pleaded, a hopeful yet terrified smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he watched Eren’s expression soften. “I’ve always liked you.”

But Eren’s expression wasn’t softening. It was merely morphing into one of mockery, disdain sharpening in his glare and piercing his chest like a lion’s claws ripping into its prey. He never felt weaker than at that moment.

“Don’t,” he huffed, taking a deep breath before shrieking, “ patronize me! ”

He descended upon Reiner with superhuman speed, gripping his outstretched wrist and pinning it against the wall along with the rest of his body, raising his forearm up and pressing it against Reiner’s neck. He expected Reiner to scream, grunt, curse, or exhale sharply, but the last thing he expected to hear was—

“ Ah-nn!”

It was almost comical how stiff the two men went at the sound, their eyes widening at the same time as they simply stared at each other. In awe, fright, surprise, or a mixture of all three. Reiner couldn’t gather what Eren was thinking from his unreadable expression, but all he knew was that his face was bright red, his heart was racing, and his body was being far too receptive to the heavy weight on his windpipe.

And all Eren knew was that he quickly found out that he liked this just as much as Reiner so obviously did as well.

“Did you just...moan?” Eren whispered, his eyebrow quirking in intrigue. He moved his forearm forward, pressing more of his body weight into Reiner, eliciting yet another sound of pleasure from the other’s thin lips.

“N-no— mmn!” The feeling of his windpipe and the sides of his neck being pressed in together was a feeling that left Reiner’s knees weak, his eyelids growing heavy as endorphins danced around his brain, leaving him in a state of swoon.

As Reiner struggled to stay standing, all Eren could do was stare in pure shock at the scene before him. Never had he seen Reiner come undone so quickly and so easily before, not even when he came across Bertholdt fucking him brilliantly in the outhouse during training. He looked, frankly, bored, as if he was putting on a scene for the other. Perhaps it really was a good thing the beanpole died. Now, Eren could play around with that expression of pure ecstasy without worrying that a seven-foot-tall bag of bones would try and slap him with those gangly limbs.

“Interesting…” Eren trailed off, his tongue wetting his lips as he dropped his forearm, allowing Reiner to gasp for breath and cough. The blond’s hand snaked up to his own throat, making sure it was okay, although its trail was hesitant, bewildered. Was this discovery also new to Reiner himself?

“So...this is new to you, too?” he dared to ask, his hand twitching to replace Reiner’s and uncover that never-before-seen expression on the other’s face once again.

Reiner scoffed and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the resistance his throat gave. “Shut up.”

“I mean, no wonder you always looked so bored when Bertholdt was fucking you,” Eren continued with a shrug as he looked around the room. He smirked, his eyes drifting to Reiner’s, mischief glinting conspicuously in both of them. “You needed something else to get you off.”

Reiner’s confusion was palpable, his agape mouth transforming into a sneer once he realized what Eren was talking about. His face had already been red, but now it was a deep scarlet as his mind ran back and quickly figured out that the shadow outside the window of the outhouse had, indeed, been Eren Yeager. How long had the little bastard been there? He was...busy during that time, so he lost track of the shadow outside once they changed positions. Had Eren...been watching them? Not merely passing by and getting surprised by the sight?

“I said shut the fuck up,” Reiner growled, pushing himself off the wall to leave. However, Eren’s hand clamped down on his throat, pushing him back in the wall and causing his head to thump off the concrete. “Shit!” He tried to gasp, but the force pressing against the sides of his throat was even stronger than before, with more purpose, causing his gasp to morph into a squeal.

“Did I say you could leave?” Eren murmured, leaning forward so that his lips tickled the shell of the other’s ear. He licked a trail on the outside of Reiner’s ear, causing the other to release another strained gasp and squirm under the weight of his hand. Perhaps this awakened something in him, too, because his body was reacting just like Reiner’s was. He couldn’t stop his hand no matter how much he tried; the expression and small whimpers the blond was making underneath him were like pure opium.

“Eren! Ere— oh,” Reiner cried, his clawing at Eren’s hand halting once the brunet’s lips fell to the junction of his jaw and neck, sucking feverishly at the soft skin that wasn’t taken up by his tense fingers. Once he came to after the sensation roiled him up, he exclaimed, “W-what are you doing? Eren, stop—”

“Stop?” Eren chuckled, his other hand dropping to Reiner’s crotch, which was painfully swollen and twitched as his knuckles brushed against it, drawing out a delicious moan from the throat underneath his hold. “And let you leave like this? How rude would that be of me, especially since I was the cause of this?” He paused, a pensive look replacing his devious one. “I mean, if you really want me to, I’ll stop.”

He stepped back, releasing Reiner’s throat and holding his hands up in the air. He tried to suppress the devilish grin that threatened to come out, keeping his face neutral. “I stopped.”

But it was nearly impossible to suppress the grin any longer as he watched Reiner’s expression morph from pure pleasure to confusion to, finally, loss. His trembling hands came up to reconvey the place where Eren’s hand was, an angry red bruise beginning to bloom at the sides of his neck as if trying to see if the hand was truly gone. His eyes dropped to his own crotch, wincing at the sight of it as well as, probably, the pain his constrictive pants were giving him.

“I…” Reiner was both at a loss for words. His eyes searched the room until they fell upon Eren again, a sort of pleading in them. He wanted Eren to read his mind so that he didn’t have to embarrass himself by begging do it again, please come here and choke me and fuck me— but all Eren did was stand there, which was somehow more infuriating than listening to him whisper humiliating things into his ear.

“...come here,” he mumbled, rubbing his forearm nervously. He didn’t dare make eye contact, staring down at the floor as if it’d kill him to look up and meet Eren’s undoubtedly jeering eyes.

“What? I couldn’t hear you?” Eren cupped his hand behind his ear and leaned forward, causing Reiner to suck on his teeth and ball his hands into fists at his sides.

“You’ve always been a little shit, haven’t you?” Reiner grumbled, his arm shooting out and gripping Eren’s wrist, bringing it up and guiding the other’s hand around his throat. “I said—”

“Ah-ah,” Eren interrupted, shaking his head. His hand stayed limp around Reiner’s throat, his other hand sitting comfortably in the pocket of his trousers. “You have to prove to me how much you want it.” He tipped his chin up, gazing at Reiner underneath heavy eyelids, shifting his weight onto one foot.

“Beg.”

“Wha-wha—” Reiner spluttered, his eyes wide and his grip on Eren’s wrist getting tighter and tighter. “What?” As much as he was surprised, his body very much was not. It took in the simple word like an aphrodisiac, his shoulders and cheeks getting even redder and his crotch getting even more painful.

“You heard what I said,” Eren taunted, licking his lips as he closed the gap between them, halting right before his lips. “Beg. Or else I’ll leave you like a bitch in heat.”

When had Eren grown so domineering? He had always had a certain gusto about him, some confidence that propelled him forward, even if it made him look like a loser. He didn’t give up during the ODM training even when it was clearly rigged against him. He made the broken thing work. It was pure rage that was fueling him, but...when had lust taken over? When had the fury in his eyes melted into hot ardor? Had he...always felt that way about Reiner?

“Eren…” he trailed off, trying to muster up the courage to actually beg. God, this was humiliating. How the hell did they even get here? What were they doing? But he couldn’t let Eren leave and kill all those people. And he certainly couldn’t fight in this condition. As much as it was dehumanizing, Eren was right. It felt as if he was in heat, his entire body boiling and in need of an electric touch.

“Choke me, please.”

“Yawn. Do better.”

“C-choke me, hard.” Reiner’s eyes rolled partly up as he felt the pressure of Eren’s hand growing around his neck, unable to restrain his outburst: “Harder! Please, choke me—touch me...ugh…”

The pressure had returned, and the physical incapability of speaking due to his constricted windpipe replaced his emotional incapability due to his dignity. But what dignity did he have now? All he could do now was completely let go.

“Fuck, yes! E-Eren, I—” He gasped when the pressure finally returned to its previous state, giving his body its much-needed dose of aggression. “I want you to f...f-fuck me.”

Eren chuckled, deep and dark, and before the other knew it, they were smashing lips, a violent exchange of saliva and pleasure.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured against Reiner’s lips, both of them panting after the impromptu makeout session. He smirked as he slipped his other hand out of his pocket and trailed it down Reiner’s chest, stopping at his pecs and giving them a generous squeeze, earning him a grunt from the blond. “To be honest, I thought you’d come just from me choking you. Kind of pathetic, don’t you think?”

Reiner’s eyes were tightly squeezed shut, biting his bottom lip to prevent any more embarrassing sounds from slipping out.

“S-shut up.” But that couldn’t have been less convincing. The affinity for choking was new, but the chest fondling was old news. The training camp had been torture for him since there were way too many instances of people accidentally brushing against his pecs or nipples, almost causing him to rupture a blood vessel from trying to suppress a squeak.

But Eren was taking full advantage of having it right in front of him, diving his face into them and massaging them with his free hand with a voracious speed as if they’d disappear.

“These have grown a lot, haven’t they?” Eren jeered, pulling back his choking hand to strip Reiner of the top half of his clothing to be even closer to those soft pecs. The second the fabric had been removed, his choking hand returned and he dove right back in, leaving a trail of hickeys on the cleavage made by his pecs.

“Eren! E—a-ah—”

“I’d say they’re almost D cups, I think,” he continued, his voice muffled from the masses of muscle. He pulled back slightly, eyeing them for a moment before opening his mouth and clamping his teeth around the perfectly pink and perky nipple, leaving deep marks in the velvety areola.

“AH! What the—ow!” Reiner’s eyelids shot open, looking to see what the hell Eren was doing down there. All he saw was him grinning proudly, his hand coming up to stroke the bitemarks and not-so-accidentally passing over the nipple, giving it a gentle squeeze and flick. “Eren, the fuck?”

“Get down on your knees,” Eren commanded, and Reiner found himself on autopilot at the conviction in the other’s voice, his knees wobbling before dropping to the floor in compliance. He kept his eyes on Eren’s knees, his previous bashfulness returning; how could he make eye contact like this? He knew what was going to happen next: the horrendous blush on his face and chest made it quite clear.

Meanwhile, Eren was taking his time enjoying the view under him. He bit his bottom lip, letting out another chuckle as he shook his head. “You know, Reiner, I always looked up to you. I never thought I’d see you like this. So...submissive.” He tipped Reiner’s chin up gently with his finger to get the other to meet his eyes. “You never let me get the upper hand in training. You were the one making me drop to my knees.” He frowned. “But now you’re looking up to me. Funny how that works, huh? It only took the murder of an entire village of people and my mom to get you like this.”

Eren teasing him about his choking kink was humiliating. Being on his knees to somebody he saw as a little brother, about to commit even more sinful acts, was humiliating. But being constantly reminded of all the atrocities he committed against his friends was pure torture. It was putting quite a damper on his mood, but he couldn’t exactly tell Eren to stop talking about it because he’d only jeer him more. The only way he could think to get Eren to shut up was…

He dove forward, opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around the bulge in Eren’s trousers, his hand coming up to further massage it. His trousers smelled of grass and disinfectant, but the distraction was clearly working, seeing as Eren’s agape mouth stopped forming words and only allowed a shuddering breath to pass through.

“You’re eager, eh? Alright, I’ll give you what you want.” With one swift motion, he unbuckled his belt and was about to let it drop to the floor, but his eyes flashed with intrigue as they switched between Reiner’s neck and the leather. “On second thought…”

He wrapped it around Reiner’s neck, and before the blond could say anything, he zipped the belt until it was pressed tightly against the pallid skin underneath, already causing it to pinken from irritation. He poked a new hole into the leather, sliding it through and returning his hands to unbutton his trousers.

“You look like a dog,” Eren scoffed. Once his trousers were unbuttoned, he pushed them down only slightly; he didn’t expect this to take too long, seeing as how undone Reiner already was. He gripped the other’s jaw tightly in his hand, maneuvering the chiseled face to look up at him. “Bark for me.”

Reiner, who was still processing the belt around his neck, spluttered about and furiously shook his head, trying to get it out of Eren’s grip. “Hell no! I’m not a damn dog.”

“Hm. Shame.” Eren’s grip on him lessened, only for it to return full force when he transferred it from his muscled jaw to his short hair, the locks sticking straight up in between his fingers. “Then put your mouth to good use.”

Reiner was going to object, but the warmth radiating from in front of him made him drop his eyes to be faced with what looked like an iron rod underneath the linen fabric of Eren’s drawers. He gulped at the sight; if this didn’t fit in his mouth, how the hell was this going to go inside of him? He would have cursed himself for thinking that far ahead, but the act was inevitable—Eren was going to fuck his brains out.

He took a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing a hesitant kiss to the tip wetting the fabric with precum practically sticking up out of the top. He had caught flashes of Eren naked whenever they came across a hot spring or all the boys bathed together, and what was in front of him hardly compared to what he had seen back then. Eren truly had grown in more ways than one.

He shakily lifted a hand and moved the fabric out of the way, allowing Eren’s cock to spring up proudly, almost as if he was mocking Reiner and his need for it. He licked his lips and leaned forward, licking from the base to the tip with a flat tongue, practically drooling over it with the amount of need swirling in his chest.

“F...uck,” Eren groaned, tipping his chin up as his grip on Reiner’s hair tightened. “Got a lot of practice with Bertholdt, I see.”

Just at the mention of Bertholdt, Reiner sped up his stroking and licking, yet again hoping this method would get Eren to shut up and to produce more of those sounds of pleasure. Sure, he seemed to be dominant in this dynamic, but Reiner was the one who held the most power as of now. He could leave Eren blue-balled and walk away, or Eren could do the same to him. They were caught in a lustful dance of power, and neither wanted to walk away, as sinful as it was.

“Wait, you’re going too— shit!” The grip on his hair was growing painful, and it only grew tighter when he opened his mouth wide and engulfed Eren’s cock up to the middle, using his tongue all the while to lap up his drool and his hand to stroke the places his mouth couldn’t reach. He very much successfully got Eren to shut the fuck up, and he smiled to himself as he graciously lent his throat as a substitute for yelling at him to be quiet.

“What a fucking slut,” Eren chuckled, brushing the few long locks of hair that flopped into Reiner’s eyes, tipping his chin up slightly to meet his eyes. “Look at me while you do it.”

Pervert, Reiner thought, but he wasn’t all that different himself, for he looked up at lightning speed and locked eyes with the commandeering man above him, feeling precum and saliva running down his beard. That’ll be a bitch to clean.

“Good.” Just that word was enough to send chills down his spine, his eyelids fluttering with pleasure as he reached his hand that wasn’t busy stroking down between his legs, trying to soothe the throbbing pain spreading in his groin. But he was interrupted by Eren groaning and his grip on his hair turning into stone.

“Since you wanna go so fast,” he murmured, cocking his head curiously before pulling Reiner all the way down his cock, the other’s nose nestling in the happy trail leading down his stomach.

GURK!

“It’s satisfying to see you choking on me,” he laughed, tossing his head back to let out a moan as he could feel Reiner’s throat tightening and moving around him, the softness of the back of his mouth leaving him breathless. “I’ll fuck you in a second, but in the meantime…”

He gave an experimental thrust, slow and shallow, leading to more gurgling and choking noises from the man below him, drool beginning to build up in the corners of his mouth and dribble down his chin. Reiner’s hands flung out to grip Eren’s thighs, trying to process the fact that he was being facefucked.

“Mmgh—nngf!” He tried desperately to slurp up as much drool as he could, but it was beginning to pour now, down his chin and onto the floor, gathering into a pool near his knees. His eyes were watering, the tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes.

“F-fuck yeah,” Eren growled. Now equipped with more confidence, he pulled out of Reiner’s mouth partly—giving the other a short sense of relief—before snapping his hips forward, lodging himself deep down in his throat. A horrid gagging sound released itself from his throat, squeezing between his cheeks and Eren’s cock. His stomach dry-heaved, but he had hardly any time to recuperate before Eren launched back into thrusting himself over and over into his mouth.

“Hah— fuck, this is good,” he groaned, a smirk ever-present on his lips. He could feel Reiner’s throat straining against the belt as it expanded, which only provided even more tightness. However, his smirk disappeared once he felt a familiar warmth building up in his stomach, signaling he was almost at his end. He lowered his head from the thrown-back position it had been in before, and he almost finished on the spot when he saw the lewdness on Reiner’s face. The blond was beet red, his cheeks looking as if he had been slapped over and over—which he had somewhat been, with Eren’s stomach—his mouth berry red and stretched to accommodate the cock he was sucking so deliciously, gobs of spit running down his chin, and tears trailing down those highlighter-red cheeks. God, he looked gorgeous.

“Well,” he mumbled, pulling out of Reiner’s mouth and allowing him a moment to breathe and cough out all the phlegm and irritation gathered up in his throat. He only added more spit to the pool in front of him, falling onto hands and knees as he spat out the last of the spit and precum that accumulated in his throat.

Eren let out an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes as he buried his hand in Reiner’s hair again and roughly tugged him up to his feet, the other whining and complaining the entire way. He faced the blond for only a second before turning him around to face the wall and shoved him against it, his chest pressed against the cold stone. While his hand was busy holding Reiner’s wrists together behind his back, the other trailed down to grip his ass, giving it a firm squeeze before slipping it underneath the waistband of his trousers.

“Your mouth pussy was fantastic, but I want to use the real one,” he explained, his lips leaving the tip of Reiner’s ears bright red as he stroked the soft skin underneath his hand and cupped the mounds of well-built muscle. “What a bubble butt. Heh, you really worked hard on this. If your muscles are this tight, I can’t imagine your asshole.”

“Mm!” Reiner whimpered, his shoulders hiking up to his ears to protect them from the assault of Eren’s hot breath and humiliating words. He tried to break free from Eren’s grip on his wrists, to no avail. Both his wrists and his neck were restricted, and although it was uncomfortable, it only made the throbbing ache in his pants even more painful. How he developed this kink, he had no idea—all he knew was that he wanted relief, now. “Eren...Eren, please. Fuck me. Ple—guh— ”

“Shut up for a second,” Eren commanded as he forced two fingers into Reiner’s already heavily lubricated mouth, sopping up the spit dripping from the roof of his mouth and tongue. He shuddered at the feeling of Reiner’s soft tongue wrapping around his fingers, amazed that such a thing was on his cock only a few moments ago and even more amazed that he didn’t come on the spot. He used his thumb to push Reiner’s pants down to his ankles, marveling at the view of his back muscles rippling under his pale skin, fighting against the restraining grip on his wrists, followed by the elegant slope into the two golden apples for an ass.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, lowering his head and opening his mouth to deliver a deep bite to the virgin skin at the nape of Reiner’s neck, sinking his canines into the flesh in an almost animalistic motion, causing Reiner to jolt from underneath him.

“Eren, stop with the biting!” Reiner pleaded, but he couldn’t help the whispery moan that passed through his lips at the thought of being marked.

“Sorry not sorry,” Eren replied with a snicker, resorting to leaving hickeys to further mark his presence on Reiner’s body, proudly screaming I was here and fucked him beautifully. “You clean back here?”

The mere insinuation that he wasn’t made Reiner want to turn around and snap Eren’s neck right then and there, especially considering he very much doubted Eren was. He grunted, the awkwardness of that question causing nausea to boil in his stomach.

“I...bathed for the festival earlier today,” he explained haltingly, his blush radioactive at this point. But when Eren didn’t move right away, he sighed and opened his legs slightly, wrestling one wrist free and trailing it down to his asscheek, spreading it open as a very clear invitation. “Hurry up.”

Eren’s eyes widened, and a heated smile filled out his face at the sight of Reiner coming completely undone and practically begging to get fucked. Before the spit on his fingers could dry, he spread Reiner’s cheeks with his other fingers and plunged his index and middle fingers inside, earning a squeal from the blond.

“S-slow! Slower!”

A confused look crossed Eren’s face, but he shrugged and continued to scissor Reiner open, curling his fingers against the soft walls to try and find that one spot that drove men crazy. He found out about that quickly while at the hospital, a male nurse being particularly caring and spreading his legs open to cure a patient.

“I thought you’d be looser than this,” he replied, genuinely baffled at how tightly Reiner’s grip around his fingers was. How the hell was he supposed to fit inside? They said the bottom being tight is more pleasurable, but he imagined it’d downright hurt his dick.

“You jackass, I haven’t done it in a-a wh... while,” Reiner stuttered, a grunt sneaking in between his words as he tried to accustom himself to the feeling. He was arching his back as much as possible, but he quickly discovered it could arch much more when a sudden wave of pleasure crashed over him and a lustful cry made his mouth drop.

“Found it,” Eren sang, a proud grin spreading across his lips.

“Hng-! ” was all that came out of Reiner, followed by heavy breathing and small whimpers as he tried to regulate his breathing, but it was difficult when Eren ruthlessly continued abusing that spot now that he knew its location. “Eren...it feels...a-ah…”

“My fingers are magic, I know,” he replied with a shit-eating grin, and although Reiner’s back was to him, he could feel the bratty expression he was making.

“Oh, shut up, you idiot,” Reiner groaned, about to insult the other once more before another wave of pure pleasure corrupted him and returned him to his panting, sweating state.

After a few more moments of scissoring and dirty talk, Eren pulled out his fingers, much to Reiner’s dismay, and gripped himself as he stepped closer and lined himself up with Reiner’s entrance.

“Alright, get ready,” he joked, bracing the wall with one hand and snaking the other around Reiner’s neck once more, pulling his head back so that he could see the look of shock in his eyes as he slowly pushed the tip inside.

“Ngh!” Tears were gathering at the corners of Reiner’s eyes again as he attempted, again and again, to relax and breathe the pain away, but it didn’t help that Eren was so well-endowed. “Just...slow—go slowly.”

Eren pulled out at a snail’s pace, looking down to see where they connected before pushing back in, earning a low groan from both the men. “I don’t even have to try. You’re so tight, I can’t fucking move. Feels like my dick is going to be pulled off.”

Reiner rolled his eyes, about to say something until a sigh interrupted him as Eren continued to pull out and push inside, staying at the same pace. “I can’t control that. I hope your dick gets pulled off. Maybe then you wouldn’t be a murderous basta— hngh!”

A slap echoed in the small room from Eren giving one solid thrust, the roughness of it seen from the reddening of Reiner’s ass. He chuckled at the other’s reaction and tightened his grip on his neck, the belt making it a lot easier to yank him back and force him to meet his eyes. “Watch your words, Braun. Or else,” he gave another rapid thrust, causing the fat on Reiner’s ass to ripple from the force, “that will happen.”

“O-okay, okay, I’m d-done!” Reiner cried, his arm reaching back to grip Eren’s shirt for leverage while the other clung to the wall for dear life. “I promise, I’ll s...nngh...stop.”

“That’s what I thought,” Eren taunted, licking a trail up Reiner’s cheek, picking up the salty tears spilling from his eyes along the way. “You think I can move now without losing my dick?”

Reiner didn’t answer. All he did was lower his head as much as he could with Eren’s grip on it, preparing himself to lose the small ounce of dignity he still had left. He arched his back and pushed back onto Eren’s cock, gasping at the feeling of it spreading him apart and leaving him so perfectly full. He swirled his hips, trying to find that spot Eren so easily discovered, all the while pulling out and swirling his hips as he pushed back. It was quite the ab workout, causing sweat to build up on his hairline and building a thin sheen on his skin.

This was heaven on Earth. The view was spectacular, but what was more spectacular was watching Reiner act like a complete slut, as if Eren’s cock was the only thing that could bring him relief and pleasure. He was really willing to give up all his dignity just to use it to pleasure himself, and Eren couldn’t have been more willing of a participant.

“I guess that’s the answer to my question,” he breathed, a moan causing him to throw his head back. He dropped both his hands to Reiner’s hips, riding alongside their gyrating motions. “Yeah...that’s nice. Keep moving like that.”

“Eren,” Reiner warned, looking over his shoulder now that his neck was freed. “Eren, move, goddamn it.”

Eren cocked his head. “Is that how you ask for it?”

“Oh, for fuck’s—Eren, please, fuck me. Ruin me, do what you want, just please fuck m— ”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” It only took half a second for Eren to comply with Reiner's wishes, snapping his hips forward and sending Reiner careening toward the wall, his face pressed up against the stone just like his chest was. He’d definitely have scrapes on his face as it bounced up and down with each merciless thrust that practically sent him up the wall.

“ Ahn—ugh! Fuck, fuck, yes! Feels good, f-feels so—hnngh! ” The dry slapping noises eventually turned into wet, squelching sounds that would have made Reiner cringe, but he could barely hear them in the fugue state he was in. Eren was right: he felt like a dog in heat, his mind on nothing else but getting pounded until he was filled.

“Faster! God, faster! Ngh, harder!”

Reiner’s moans leaked, and as much as he wanted to stop, he didn’t have the energy since all of it was going into not finishing right then and there. It was just what he needed, except…

He tilted his head back, which was difficult with how roughly Eren was slamming into him, but he eventually caught Eren’s eye and smiled. “Choke me, Eren. Choke me until I can’t breathe.”

Eren smiled back, his grin malicious. “You got it, sweetheart.”

He took that command to heart because instead of one hand this time around, he used both hands, wrapping them around Reiner’s neck and using that for leverage instead of his hips. It was honestly a nicer angle to better fuck Reiner into oblivion, and he used it to his full advantage.

Smack, smack, smack, smack…

“ Guh— ugh, fu-uck,” Reiner groaned, practically gargling his own words with how he could barely breathe. Meanwhile, Eren was struggling with holding back his own moans with how velvety soft Reiner’s walls were, hugging him like the most comfortable sweater in the world. How did he go this long without taking advantage of the hole that had been around him all this time?

“I never thought you’d be this easy of a lay,” Eren remarked, graduating one hand’s place from Reiner’s neck to his hair, pulling it and pushing his face into the concrete. “Who knew you’d open up to me this easily? If I knew, I would’ve fought Bertholdt for access to your ass.”

The fog of lust clouding Reiner’s brain long enough for him to understand and process Eren’s comments, and, even though it was nearly impossible to speak anything other than moans and whines and emote anything other than pleasure, he still attempted to reach backward and scratch Eren’s hip, leaving three bright marks on the tanned skin.

“After this is over, I’m going to kill you,” Reiner managed to say when Eren stopped shortly to readjust his angle. He was very grateful for that split second of clarity because once Eren started up, instead of brushing against that spot, he was directly nailing it over and over with perfect precision.

“ OH— oh, my God, I-I’m—too much, too much, I’m so— ah, hah... c-close—!” Reiner was incoherent at this point, finally reaching the “brains fucked out” stage of this brutal hookup. He could no longer think. All he could do was moan, pant, and cry out each time his spot was abused.

“ Hah—I’m gonna come soon, t-too,” Eren breathed, having his own difficulties with speech. He tried to act as cool and collected for as long as possible, but now, it was nearly impossible, with each thrust drawing out the warm feeling in his stomach more and more. It also didn’t help that Reiner kept tightening around him with each thrust, giving him all the components to finish. He just needed one thing.

“Where do you want it?” Eren whispered, dropping his head to take advantage of the last few moments to leave more hickeys all along Reiner’s neck and collarbones.

Reiner was beyond redemption at this point, evidenced by the fact that he all but screamed out, “Inside! Please, inside, come inside, I n-need it, I need you, please, I—”

His orgasm was sudden and unexpected, but Eren hit his spot at the perfect angle and speed, causing it to rip through his body. He was left speechless, going rigid as his vision spotted before going completely white, finally receiving the release he had been chasing over the past half hour. He heard somebody wailing, and when his consciousness returned to him, he realized he was the one making that awful noise, his vocal cords frying themselves with the unadulterated ecstasy running through his system.

Eren didn’t take much longer to follow, giving a few more slams—rougher than all the ones preceding them—before coming undone deep inside Reiner, groaning at the feeling of warmth coating Reiner’s walls and making his insides even hotter than they already were. But he wasn’t done. In his state of bliss, he managed to pull out of Reiner—earning a pitiful whimper from the other—and turn him around to push down on his shoulders so that he was on his knees again.

“Fuck, fuck—fuck! ” Eren couldn’t help the countless exclamations of pleasure that racked his body as he stroked himself furiously in front of Reiner’s face. The last of his come splashed on Reiner’s face, coating his cheeks and the bridge of his nose in the milky white substance. Yet again, he wasn’t done. He smeared the tip across Reiner’s lips, painting them with the same glossy color. And with that, he was done, stepping back to admire his handiwork. He grinned, satisfied with the result.

He had completely ruined Reiner Braun. His hair was tangled and sticking out in all different places. His eyes were red from crying. His face was completely coated in sticky, hot semen. He could barely open his lips without it stringing between them. Tears stained his splotched cheeks, and dried saliva ran down the entirety of his chin and throat. His chest was red as well, full of bite marks and hickeys. His neck was a completely different story—it was probably rubbed raw and full of scratches and finger indentations, all of which were hidden under the belt. And then…

“Turn around for me and bend over,” Eren said, his last demand of the night.

He had evidently turned Reiner into an obedient subordinate because without a single complaint or hesitation, the blond nodded submissively and turned around, revealing his back that was full of scratches and the deep bite mark at the nape of his neck. To think, he’d probably be targeting that nape in a couple of minutes once again, except it’d be for the kill. He wondered if, when he’d rip Reiner from the nape of his Titan’s neck and admire his dead body, the bite mark on his neck would still be there.

Reiner bent over, lifting his ass in the air and dropping his chest and face to the floor, a look of pure embarrassment on his soiled face.

“Beautiful,” Eren whispered to himself as he watched his come pour out of Reiner’s hole, running down his leg and dripping onto the ground. “Satisfied?”

Reiner, from his docile place on the floor, nodded his head, his hair flowing back and forth on the ground. “Y-yes...thank you…”

He then collapsed to the floor, his hips no longer able to sustain his own weight. His legs were trembling, never having experienced such a savage fucking before. It had always been loving, sweet, slow. But he quickly found that he had been severely deprived of something he so desperately needed. He’d probably get brain damage from all the choking he was going to do in the future, but that didn’t matter. He already planned on dying soon, anyway.

“I’m going...to kill you...after this,” Reiner continued, severely out of breath.

Eren walked over silently, squatting down and brushing the hair out of Reiner’s sweaty and dirtied face. “I’d like to see you try. You can barely walk.”

He laughed and pat Reiner on the rear, standing back up and walking over to the exit as he fixed his trousers and buttoned them.

“But thanks for the good fuck. I needed that. Honestly, if I hadn’t made everybody from Paradis come rescue me today, I’d save this battle for another day. I’m feeling very…” He lifted up his hands, looking at his nails and running his fingers through his hair. “...relaxed right now.”

Reiner was half-asleep, but he was conscious enough to have heard Eren’s words loud and clear. He snapped his head up and turned to stare at Eren to see if what he heard was the truth, but all he was met with was Eren adjusting his shirt and tightening his hair into a bun.

“P-Paradis?”

“Yeah. Heh.” Eren looked over his shoulder and winked. “I’ll catch you out there, then. If you manage to survive, come to Paradis. I’ll give you a very special welcome.”

And with that, Eren Yeager exited the room heavy with the smell of sex and quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Reiner Braun was left alone—used and besmirched with a fucked-out mind—to mull over what just happened and what will happen in only a handful of minutes.

Eren fucking Yeager.

#attack on titan #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren yeager #reiner braun #eren x reiner #smut #aot smut #fanfiction

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marshmallow-phd · 3 years

Text

Book of the Dead

Genre: The Mummy AU

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: After traveling to the fabled city of Hamunaptra, you read from the Book of the Dead and accidentally resurrect an ancient mummy with extraordinary powers and quest for revenge. The only thing to do now is try and convince your less-than-traditional guide to help you save the world.

Part 1 I Part 2

“I just said a few sentences!”

“What did you do that for!”

“Well, I didn’t know that that would happen!”

You stared at the aggravating, self-absorbed, cocky Korean soldier and wondered why on earth you had decided to negotiate for this man’s life.

Alright, you did know why. You needed him to show you to Hamunuptra - the fabled City of the Dead.

Too many times you had stood in front of the museum curator with pages and pages of references and evidence that the place existed and just needed a small team of archeologists in order to track it down. He’d shot you down every time. And each time he took the liberty of reminding you that while your father was an exceptional explorer who had many successes under his belt, you were a woman whose life had been spent between the shelves, cataloging. Your adventures consisted of the fictional kind, devouring any novel you could when you weren’t archiving the latest crate of artifacts and texts.

Then your cousin showed up. Your normally useless, hare-brained, erratic, drunkard cousin showed up at your apartment with a “fun new artifact” he found on his latest trip. And suddenly your luck had completely turned around.

Or so you thought.

Now you were standing in the middle of Hamunaptra, feet sinking into the unstable sand, with an empty sarcophagus and everyone blaming you because you did what you did best - read.

It was only a book. Albeit, a very heavy, possibly-made-of-painted-solid-gold book that was written in the dead language of ancient Egypt, but still. What harm had ever come from reading a book?

Kim Junmyeon stared at you as if you were the one who had risen from the dead. You were still stunned at how different he looked from when you had first met him in that smelly prison, minutes away from being hanged. His hair had been long and stringy, clumps of dirt clinging to the dark brown strands that brushed his shoulders. Now it was shorter, cut above his ears and gelled back in the current style that almost made him look like a gentleman. The several days’ stubble was long gone to reveal smooth skin and a sharp jawline. He was actually very handsome - when he was cleaned up.

Stupid, you hissed at yourself. Now was not the time for this. Because right now there seemed to be a reanimated mummy running around here. And by the looks of Barney’s husk of a body lying deep within the temple underground, it was hungry.

As it should be, given the three thousand years it spent locked up under piles of sand.

“Really, you should have been more careful!” your cousin, Baekhyun, scolded.

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk. You were the one who snatched the key off of Mr. Kim here at one of your seedy bars and then proceeded to lie to me and say that you found it on a dig in Thebes which in turn brought us here!”

Baekhyun opened and closed his mouth as he searched for a possible retort.

“I think this is more your fault,” Kim Junmyeon’s own cousin and traveling partner, Oh Sehun, said. “You told us to go down a level and dig under the statue, which in turn,” he mocked your tone almost precisely, “caused the mummy to be able to get out of his sarcophagus. If we had dug somewhere else entirely, then he’d still be trapped under the statue of Anubis.”

“Despite the fact that it was two layers deep, nothing would have been able to hold a victim of the Hom-Dai.”

“Would have given poor Barney a chance,” Kim Junmyeon muttered under his breath. You shot him a glare that he hardly noticed.

“I say that we get out of here and to the safety of the city before the mummy finds us.” Oh Sehun swallowed thickly. “Or worse. The beetles find us.” The supposedly brave soldier who had two pistols hanging under each arm was more terrified of the flesh eating bugs than he was the living mummy that was bringing about the ten plagues of Egypt. You’d already lived through the locust infestation, but that was always the most minor of the plagues. In your opinion.

“We told you to leave,” Ardeth said in that low, monotone voice that made him seem centuries old. You had only known him for a few hours, but you already feared and respected him. Despite the fact that he had attacked your campsite the night before. “Now you have condemned the whole world to the very monster that we have spent three thousand years keeping hidden.”

Kim Junmyeon finally tore his face away from yours. “I told you. I shot him. He went down.”

“Mortal weapons are useless against this creature. None can kill him.” Stepping up, he stood toe to toe with the soldier who led you here. “A gun is nothing more than a fly to him. He will never eat. He will never sleep. And he will never stop. Not until this world is only sand.”

Though still not completely backing down, Kim Junmyeon took hold of your arm. “Come on. We’re going back to Cairo.”

The camel ride back to the city was long, tiring, and a bit painful, if you were honest. The inside of your thighs were sore from keeping you up right on the animal’s back for hours on end under the blazing heat. You were used to the comfortable back seat of a car, even if the roads here tended to be on the bumpier side. Kim Junmyeon stayed at your side the entire time, up until you were back in your hotel room. All your things were still in there. That was nice, even if it was to be expected. The desk clerk had sworn he would keep the room reserved for you until you made it back. And now that you had, you were on to the next fight.

“We’re not going anywhere!”

Kim Junmyeon pretended not to hear you as he started emptying the dresser drawers of your clothes and stuffing them in your suitcases lying open on the bed.

“Excuse me! I said we’re not going anywhere!” As soon as he stepped away again, you slammed the suitcase shut. A stray white cat that you didn’t have the heart to remove from your room took advantage of the newly available space and laid down on the surface of the luggage. Unbothered by the argument taking place in its presences, it purred as it curled into a ball and closed its eyes.

“You keep using the word ‘we’ and I’m not sure why,” he said. “I believe you were the one who woke him up in the first place.”

“Yes, I get it!” you shouted. “Everyone can blame me because I read the damn book, but that is why we need to stop him.”

He closed the empty drawer and turned back around to face you. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that? You heard Ardeth. No mortal weapon can kill this guy.”

“That’s why we’re going to find some immortal ones.”

He pulled a pair of rounded glasses from his pocket, wiped the lenses with his shirt, and stuck them on the bridge of his nose. “There goes that ‘we’ business again.”

You huffed, trying not to focus on the newest version of the soldier now being presented in front of you. “Yes, we. Because this curse will continue to get worse until the whole world is destroyed.”

“And that’s my problem?”

“It is everybody’s problem! You live here, too!”

Kim Junmyeon stepped up until he was mere inches away. “Listen. I appreciate you saving my life and all, but when I agreed to this idiotic mission my objective was to show you the way and then bring you back here. I have done that. End of job. End of story. Contract terminated.”

You tried not to show how his last few words affected you. Though you had been a little intoxicated two nights ago, you still very much remembered how sweet he had been, how he had listened to you go on and on about your parents and how much you wanted to be a famous adventurer like your father. And how you almost kissed him. And how he was going to kiss you back. Stupidly, you had thought that there was something growing between you. Apparently, you had been wrong.

“Is that all I am to you?” you whispered. “A contract?”

Kim Junmyeon blew out haughtily from his nose. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed. He opened his mouth and then closed it. You waited in hopes that he would contradict you. That he would say, no that was not all you were to him. And it really seemed like he would be saying something along those lines. But other words came out instead.

“Look. You can either come with me or you can try and stay here and save the world. So. What’s it going to be?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “I’m staying.”

“Fine.” He headed for the door.

“Fine,” you bit back, following him.

“Fine,” he threw at you again as he barely glanced over his shoulder.

“Fine!”

He got the last word in before slamming the door to your room shut.

You huffed as you crossed your arms. Yet, as angry as you were, you still hoped that he would come back. That he wouldn’t let you take this on alone. But the footsteps on the other faded away and you were alone.

Looking around your room, you didn’t think there was much you could do. So, you did what you were best at. You grabbed all the books you thought could help you and got to reading.

While sitting in the wicker chair in the corner, you skipped around the books and pages, clinging on to any small word that you thought could lead you to a possible solution. There wasn’t much to be found, unfortunately. Most works spoke of how to perform the Hom-Dai and how it should never be performed due to the curse that awaits should the victim ever be awakened. You already knew that. You needed specifics on what to do after the victim came back.

“(Y/n)!”

Kim Junmyeon came bursting back into your room. You slammed the book in your hands closed, feeling very high and mighty indeed.

“Ah. Mr. Kim. Have you changed your mind?”

“Doesn’t matter now, he’s here!”

“What!”

He didn’t clarify as he hoisted you up out of the chair and pulled you out of the room, and into the hall. Through the windows, you watched in horror as fire fell from the heavens. The balls of flame engulfed anything it touched when it landed, whether it be plant or human life. Turning a corner, Kim Junmyeon ran into a room you knew was occupied by another one of the Americans that you had ran into on your way to Hamunaptra. You gasped.

In the chair, now nothing more than dried, husky skin and hollow bones was… oh, dear you couldn’t remember his name. You hadn’t bothered to learn them. You and Baekhyun had simply referred to them as the “Bloody Americans”. You were feeling a bit awful about that at the moment.

But you didn’t have much time to dwell on that. Standing in front of the fireplace was a new version of the mummy. His skin was starting to come together, though patches were still missing, allowing you to see the gray bone and lack of organs underneath. Kim Junmyeon pulled out both of his guns as the mummy stalked forward.

“We are in deep trouble,” he murmured before opening fire. The loud pops banged on your poor eardrums. You stumbled back a few steps to try and soften their blows. It didn’t work.

The bullets passed through the mummy as if they didn’t exist at all. Even when Oh Sehun and the other Americans came running into the room and firing off their own guns, the mummy still kept going. He shoved Kim Junmyeon back into the others as if he were nothing more than old wrappings. Then he turned on you.

Completely unarmed, you stumbled back until you were betrayed by the bookshelf behind you. There was nowhere to run. Instead of sucking out your liver, however, he spoke.

“You were the one who saved me from the afterlife.” His words were haunting, echoing as if he was speaking in a cavern. And the language he spoke… ancient Egyptian. You weren’t sure why you expected to speak anything else. Coming in closer, he lowered his voice. “I thank you.”

He leaned in his head, those very human eyes lowering to your lips. You turned your head away to try and avoid the kiss, confused as to why he was trying to seduce you.

Sharp, unpleasing notes from the piano pierced through the air. The mummy turned and gasped when he saw the white cat from your room walking across the keys. In a whirl of sand, he fled from the room.

“Oh, thank god,” you said with a heavy breath.

“No kidding,” Kim Junmyeon groaned as he sat up.

You ran to his side, fearful that he might have been injured. “Are you alright, Mr. Kim?”

“Yes,” he huffed. With a very odd expression, he added, “And I told you to call me Junmyeon.”

To be honest, after your fight, you didn’t think you would be allowed to anymore. A strange silence settled between you. He was trying to say something with his gaze, but you couldn’t interpret it. So, instead, you helped him to his feet. “Come on. I know who we need to talk to about all of this.”

It took a while to get back to the museum that had employed you for the past year or so. Every street was full of panicking people. Flames no longer fell from the heavens, but little fires still raged on homes and carts. The Americans had declared that they were coming along, so your group was slower in moving. Although you didn’t really want the mummy bait to be anywhere near you, Junmyeon and Sehun decided that it would be better to keep an eye on them and - hopefully - keep them out of the mummy’s grasp.

“Dr. Bey!” You ran into the museum’s main storage room, happy when you saw the curator. But then you skidded to a stop at the sight that he wasn’t alone.

Ardeth was talking with him in hushed tones that stopped the second you appeared. Both men turned towards you, the curator wearing a very readable expression. It was one that stunk of “I told you so”. The others were only a few steps behind. As soon they, too, saw the unexpected visitor, Junmyeon, Sehun, and the Americans pulled out their guns while Baekhyun simply squeaked in surprise.

“Gentlemen,” Dr. Bey greeted as if this were any old meeting on a Tuesday.

“What is he doing here?” Junmyeon demanded. Even with the black tattoos etched under Ardeth’s eyes, you could tell that he was tired, dark circles from lack of sleep bruising his skin.

Dr. Bey raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to know? Or perhaps you would prefer to just shoot us?”

“Either sounds good.” Junmyeon cocked back the hammer of one of his guns for emphasis.

“Stop it,” you hissed. “Bullets won’t do any good here. Besides, you might damage some of the artifacts.”

Junmyeon failed to suppress a laugh over your concern. Despite the present danger, you still didn’t want to see the carriages or sacred jars damaged because someone got trigger happy. So, Junmyeon holstered his guns and the others soon followed suit. “All right. I’ll give a little faith.”

Dr. Bey motioned for the group to follow him in deeper. “We’re part of a secret society-”

“Aren’t they all?” Baekhyun muttered. Both you and Dr. Bey shot him glares that made him snap his mouth shut.

“For over three thousand years, we have guarded the City of the Dead. Once we reach manhood, we swear an oath to do anything and everything in our power to stop the high priest Imhotep from rising from the grave.”

“And now we have failed. Thanks to you.” Ardeth gave you a particularly pointed look.

By now, you were getting very irritated with the constant finger pointing. What was done was done. You were not going to show him any cowardice. “And that justifies the murder of innocent people?”

“Hm. To stop this creature?” Dr. Bey pretended to think for a moment. “Yes.”

Junmyeon, untroubled by that, raised his hand from the golden seat of a dead royal that he had taken over. “I have a question. Why doesn’t he seem to like cats?”

“Cats are the guardians of the underworld. He will fear them until he reaches full regeneration.”

“Then there will be nothing that he fears.” Worry was very much apparent in the soldier’s voice.

“And you know how he gets regenerated?” one of the Americans asked rhetorically.

The other one finished. “By tracking those of us down who opened the chest and sucking us dry like a nomad in the desert, that’s how!”

It was completely pointless to go over the things that were already known. Now was the time to try and piece the unused parts together. Two particular moments were sticking out in your head.

“Back in Hamunaptra, the priest - Imhotep - he called me Ack-Su-Namun. And then just now at the hotel, he….” You cringed at the memory, thankful that you didn’t have to feel the decomposed skin against your own. “He tried to kiss me.”

“It’s because of Anck-Su-Namun and his love for her that he was cursed,” Dr. Bey explained, exchanging a look with Ardeth. “Even after all this time….”

“He’s still in love with her?” Sehun finished with a scoff.

You appreciated the backstory, however - “As romantic as that is, what does that have to do with me?”

“Perhaps he will try to raise her from the dead once again?” Ardeth guessed.

“Yes,” Dr. Bey agreed solemnly. “And it would seem that he has already chosen his human sacrifice.”

All eyes in the room turned to you. Wonderful.

Not only were you the one who read from the book and raised him, but you would also be responsible for the return of his beloved, who was the reason he was cursed in the first place. Absolutely beautiful.

Baekhuyn came up behind you and patted your shoulder. “That is some rotten luck, dear cousin.”

“Actually, this could work in our favor,” Dr. Bey countered. “It could give us time that we desperately need to kill the creature.”

“We’ll need every second, I think,” Sehun said. He pointed towards the ceiling. “I think he’s getting stronger.”

Through the large window high up on the wall, the sun was in clear view. You all watched in horror as the moon moved too quickly across the sky and blocked the light from reaching Earth.

“I’m guessing this is the plague of darkness?” Baekhyun said ominously. You nodded slowly.

“Let’s go,” Junmyeon said softly beside you, his hand coming up protectively behind your back. “We’ve got to get back to the hotel and come up with a plan.”

“I’m just saying, it seems very stupid to comdem someone to a curse when the result of that would be for them to come back a supernatural creature who is practically unkillable.”

“The ancient Egyptians believed in balance,” you explained to Baekhyun for the hundredth time in your life. “To curse someone so badly in both this life and the next, there has to be a consequence to balance out the scales. If not, then the whole world could still fall apart, in even worse ways!”

“All of this is kind of pointless now, isn’t it?” Sehun sighed from the small table in the antechamber to your room. His feet were up on the polished surface as he leaned back in his seat. A look of irritation was etched on his face as he stared at your cousin. “What’s done is done. Right now, we need to focus on our next step.”

“Well, I know you two,” you pointed to the Americans, “opened the chest. As well as Barney. Was there anyone else?”

“The Egyptologist that was with us,” the shaggier one answered. “Professor Chamberlain. He has a temporary residence a few blocks over.”

“What about my best friend Beni?” Junmyeon asked. You nearly snorted. You knew the two of them were anything but friends.

“No. He ran out before we took the lid off. Ended up saving his own skin.”

“Sounds like Beni,” Junmyeon said dryly. “Okay. We’re going to go get the Professor. You four,” he pointed to all the men, “come with me. You, stay here.”

Oh, no you weren’t. “Excuse me! I am just as capable as any of them are. I will not- What do you think you’re doing!”

Junmyeon marched over to you, picked you up, and carried you over his shoulder until you were in your room. Then he dropped you on the floor, closed the door, and locked it tight. “This door doesn’t open.”

You didn’t know who he said it to, who he left in charge of watching you like an infant. It didn’t matter. You pounded your fist against the solid wood door. “Baekhyun! Junmyeon! Let me out! Baekhyun, you coward! Help me out here!”

“Sorry, cousin!” Baekhyun yelled on the other side of the door. “But… he’s got a gun.”

“Smart choice,” you heard Junmyeon say. Oh, you were going to kill him. Which “him” was yet to be decided. Perhaps both would be most satisfactory.

Well, now you were stuck here.

Crossing your arms, you sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated your choices. Not that you had many.

A yawn forced its way out. You were tired. Over the past few days, you had hardly been able to get any real sleep. And, well, now seemed to be a time. So, you changed into your nightgown and slipped under the covers. The mattress was soft, like a cloud. The pillows were stuffed into freshly cleaned cotton cases. It was barely a few minutes before you drifted off…

And then abruptly woke up to something moving against your mouth. It started out soft but quickly turned ashen and tough. Your eyes flew open and you screamed, the sound muffled by the kiss of Imhotep!

You tried to shove him off, but he didn’t budge. Your touch meant nothing to him as he continued the unwanted kiss.

The door to your room burst open, finally taking his attention and allowing your scream to be heard at full volume. Imhotep’s face was half rotten away, his lips completely gone, the cheeks held together by thin strips of jerky-like skin. You scrambled out of reach, to try and get as far away as the tiny room would allow. The movement caused you to fall out of the bed and land hard on the wood floor.

Standing up, Imhotep said something in ancient Egyptian, but your jumbled, still half-asleep brain couldn’t translate it.

“Oh, really?” Junmyeon mocked. “Here’s my answer.” He held up the poor cat who had saved you earlier, the animal hissing threateningly at the mummy. Just like last time, Imhotep fled in a tornado of sand out the window, terrified of the innocent creature.

“Are you alright?” Junmyeon asked as he let the cat fall from his hands. The cat landed gracefully on its feet and walked over to the bed with more dignity than you’d ever seen a human radiate.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Baekhyun answered. After a glare from Junmyeon, he cleared his throat. “Oh. You weren’t- that’s fine. Go… check on her.” Junmyeon did just that.

Kneeling in front of you, he pushed away a few stray hairs that had fallen in your face. Warm, soft brown eyes searched for any sign of harm. The tips of his fingers brushed against your cheek, setting the skin on fire. Or perhaps that was just the blood rushing up to your face in slight embarrassment. This man made you… nervous in a way. He could be dastardly at times, but… also very sweet.

Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself up to your feet. “I’m fine. A little disgusted, but I’m fine.”

A smirk and knowing gleam flashed on Junmyeon’s face as he rose. “I’m sure mine was better.”

He was referring to the lip-smash he desperately pulled before he was to be dragged to the hangman’s noose. Not exactly the best first impression.

You snorted. “No. I wouldn’t say that.” His jaw went slack. Sehun and Baekhyun snickered behind him. “Did you find the professor?” you asked in order to change the subject.

“Yeah. He stayed out in the sun for a little long by the time we found him.”

“What are you-” Oh. Oh. That was why Imhotep was so far along in his regeneration. He’d found another victim to suck dry.

“And he has the Book of the Dead,” Sehun added. “According to Beni, that’s what he’s going to use to raise Anacsunmum.”

“Anck-Su-Namun,” you corrected.

“Yeah, her.”

You rolled your eyes. Why did you even bother?

You started pacing the room, trying to figure out what would be the best next move. You couldn’t keep playing hide and seek with the cat for all eternity. There needed to be a way to end this. Before he read from the book and raised-

The book…

The book!

You whirled back to the others. “I have an idea!”

“Care to share?”

“The Black book has always been rumored among scholars to be able to bring people back from the dead. Something I had always thought was nonsense,” you added to yourself. “But since that part is true, that means other rumors must be as well. Such as the Gold Book being able to send a soul back to the afterlife.”

“A balance.” Baekhyun looked awfully proud of himself. At least something finally stuck.

“Exactly. Now all we have to do is find out where it's hidden.”

Junmyeon frowned. “But I thought it was supposed to be hidden with Anubis?”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “It comes from a translation of an ancient text. A stone that’s at the museum here, actually. It also says where the Black book was supposed to be hidden. I think they got their translations mixed up. So, where the scholars who originally translated it said that the golden Book of Amun-Ra was in the statue of Anubis, it's actually wherever they said the black Book of the Dead was supposed to be.”

“And where is that?”

You swallowed. “I don’t remember. We’ll have to go to the museum so I can read it again.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Junmyeon checked the barrels of his guns, reloaded the revolvers with bullets from his belt. “Then I guess we’re headed back to the museum. Hopefully we don’t run into Ugly Face before we get to the rock.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” you said with the utmost confidence.

Sehun, who did not share that sentiment, looked up towards the ceiling. “Oh joy. Another book hunt.”

#exo #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo fantasy au #exo fantasy!au #junmyeon x reader #junmyeon x fem!reader #kim junmyeon #kim joonmyeon #suho #exo mummy au #exo egypt au #exo 1920s au #byun baekhyun #oh sehun #exo adventure au #Book of the Dead

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oh-writing-my-writing · 3 years

Text

sastiel, 1.2k, fluff ~ for @moostiel ♡

Sam wakes up to a sensation of closeness, warmth, and the unfamiliar feeling of fingers stroking his hair - a combination that would’ve lulled him back to sleep immediately, had a voice not interrupted his gentle reverie.

“Sam,” It’s Cas. Above, under and around him. A strange thing to think, but it feels correct. “Go back to sleep.”

Sam blinks, the haze of sleep fast fading.

“It’s still night.” Cas insists, and Sam can just about make out the indignance in his voice. Sleep-rumpled and bleary, it confuses him. “Four more hours, Sam, please. Go back to sleep.”

This time, his words actually register, and instinctively Sam cranes his neck to look at his alarm clock. It had taken a few months but they’d gotten used to not relying on a sunshiney wakeup call — living underground and all that. No suns knocking on your window and peeping through the drapes to confirm your resident angel’s claims, no sir.

But today, there’s no clock either. Just like there isn’t a bedside table.

Just like this isn’t Sam’s room.

“Dude!” Sam yelps, completely awake the second the shock settles in. (That's just the way it works.)

Wide-eyed, he takes in his surroundings - Cas’s trenchcoat slung over a chair, Cas’s chair, Cas’s chest of (mostly empty) drawers, and what can only be summarized as Cas’s room. And it’s an easy road from making that out, to making it to the source of Cas’s voice — Cas — above him, as earlier bizarrely suspected.

It’s an angle Sam’s never seen Cas from before - the little dimple in his chin as clear as the day-old stubble he wears eternally, black hair sticking out like it’s at war with itself as usual, and a minorly affronted frown tugging on the corners of his lips, wrong side up from where Sam's looking.

It’s — well, it’s kind of a nice angle.

Shit.

And maybe Sam isn’t completely up yet, because he finds himself distracted way too easily by the brand new perspective he gets of Cas’s wonky tie, and Cas's neck, and -

“Sam.” Cas repeats.

With a jolt, Sam’s up, heat rising in his cheeks as he finishes piecing the rest of the picture together. The hand in his hair, the warmth of his pillow, that feeling you get when you're being held, and the way he can see Cas’s Adam's apple bob when he speaks.

Holy shit.

He’d fallen asleep on Cas’s lap.

“C-Cas.” Sam stammers out, blushing furiously now.

Cas, inevitably, makes for a complete contrast to the way he feels right now — severely underdressed in his (still too large) white shirt, and perplexed instead of offended all of a sudden, with that little crease in his forehead that he gets. “I told you to go back to sleep.”

Sam’s eyes flit to Cas’s lap at the reference of sleep, where Cas’s trousers are rumpled - Sam’s fault, holy fuck - and his hand lies on the bed where, a minute ago, Sam had been. “Dude!” He flusters, eyes shooting up immediately, meeting Cas’s. “I can’t just go back to sleep on you! I -” Sam scrubs his face, heart still racing. “I don't even know how I ended up there!”

There’s a magazine in Cas’s hand - wait, that’s the Saturday Evening Post, isn’t it - and Cas immediately shifts all of his focus onto it.

There’s something wrong.

“Hey,” Sam swallows. “What is it? Cas?”

“Well,” Cas looks up. Thankfully it’s not going to take a lot to get the truth out of Cas, because that’s his confessional I-did-what-I-had-to-do look in his eyes. Used more than once professionally, yes, but never in context of just, you know, Cas and him. Them. “You fell asleep on the map table again.”

Cas lets out a reactionary sigh as Sam freezes. “But that's in the library -”

“I carried you here.”

Jesus, if he was blushing before. “You did what — ?”

“Sam,” Cas looks down at the page, and the back up, and maybe, just maybe, there’s some pink in his cheeks too. “We’ve had this conversation before. I’ve told you it’s not good for your spine -”

“- so you picked me up -”

“- and is one of the prime causes of your sleep deprivation -”

“- and carried me across the bunker -”

“- and you need to get more sleep, so I did what I thought best -”

“- and laid me back to sleep — what, with my head in your lap?” Sam finishes, chest heaving, in disbelief. Cas - he can’t just — goddammit, he can’t just pick Sam up, can he —

“Actually,” Cas licks his lips. “You did that yourself.”

“Well,” Sam’s already begun to say before he can run it through his head a couple billion times like he tends to do with sentences when its just him, and Cas, and the end of the world is not right there. “You were still the one playing with my hair!”

“I," Cas looks truly sheepish at that, and Sam regrets it instantly. “I’m sorry. I just — I thought -”

“Cas.” Sam interrupts, well and truly operating outside of his nervous system’s reach now. His brain sort of malfunctioned at the getting-picked-up-by-Cas part, and refused to really come back. Sam can't blame it - it’s a trainwreck over here. “I didn’t mean — not like that, okay? Don't be sorry. It was — nice.”

“You liked it?”

And the tinge of hope in his tone is all Sam needs to slammed in the face with a reminder of how goddamn smitten he is.

Before he knows it, he’s ducking his head, and rubbing the back of his neck, shy. “Y-yeah. Sure.” He chances a look at Cas again, and there’s a smile there now - full-blown, with the eye crinkles and the everything, and Sam’s insides flutter a little. Butterflies, or something pretending to be them. “People like it when — when other people do that.”

“I think the other people like it too.” Cas says simply. As if Sam’s senses had needed a further push away from coherence.

“Oh.”

Cas smiles again, it’s smaller this time. (God, Cas.)

“I mean, I —” Sam stammers. “I see.”

There’s a moment of silence - or even perhaps two, with Sam staring nervously, excitedly, awkwardly at the bedsheet, and Cas looking — god knows where, but it’s not at his damn animations, and it feels a lot like it’s at Sam, though he has no idea what to do with that.

At the end of it, Cas clears his throat.

“You still need sleep.”

“I just woke up,” Sam argues.

“Sam, I know how long you were asleep. I was there.” Sam flushes at his words. "Trust me, you need more.”

Sam can’t believe he’s actually considering it - but then, he can’t believe most of what’s happening right now, so figures, he reasons - but he finds himself asking, “What about you?”

“I don't need any.” Cas returns, tilting his head.

“I know that.” Sam’s eyes flit to Cas’s again. They twinkle back at him — so, so blue. “I meant, what about you now?”

“Well,” Cas’s eyes crinkle again, and something pulls in Sam’s heart. “If you don't mind, I think I’d like both of us to return to what we were doing.”

“Cas,” Sam says, soft, and that’s all the words he can think of.

And all the words he was looking for.

“I enjoy reading these, and you,” Cas goes on, his eyes back on the magazine, and they stay there for the rest of his sentence. “You have really soft hair.”

And maybe Sam imagines it, but his cheeks are a little pink again.

So Sam bows his head again and laughs, laughs till Cas joins in with that smile of his, and he scoots on the bed until he can be pressed up by Cas's side, their legs sprawled out in front of them, and Cas can resume whatever the hell he was doing that felt so friggin' good when Sam was asleep, and it’s adorable, and it's ridiculous, and it feels exactly like the kind of thing you remember forever.

#sam later finds out it was actually seven am when he got up and cas just wanted him to get eight hours for once #he pretends to be offended at being lied to for about ten minutes #before realizing non-sleepdeprived people aren't quite as cranky #<3 #sastiel #samcas #sassy #sastiel fanfic #sam winchester #castiel #sam winchester fluff #cas fluff #oh writing my writing

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eirist · 3 years

Text

Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

EVENING OF THE SEVENTH

One-shot #: 29

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: For @bloodshot13. You wanted a Japanese Festival. AU. So here it is. I must say it is an awesome suggestion and would be a pity if it’s only going to be a drabble. Besides the story itself wanted to be a bit longer so I yielded. Enjoy!

I used the Japanese Tanabata Festival for this hence the title. And for wordplay reason as well. I think this festival is a good choice of setting for these two’s not-so-perfect first date.

Summary: Not all first dates are perfect. And with Zoro and Nami… this shouldn’t come as a surprise at all.

“You’re late.”

A pout appeared on pinkish lips before a familiar I-knew-it-look appeared on Nami’s face as she stared him down.

Zoro scratched the back of his head. “It’s nothing new,” he retorted—a bit weakly though—trying to justify why he made her wait for him for a good fifteen minutes.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” she deadpanned. “It’s a miracle you even made it here.”

Zoro glared at her for that comment.

Nami glared back… more viciously. “Zoro, this place is just a ten minute walk from your apartment! Fifteen from mine and I still got here before you!” She explained with a huff.

“I’m here now aren’t I?”

Nami regarded him with eyes promising excruciating pain solely for him.

“If this is your idea of dating a girl, you definitely suck Zoro.”

“Oi!”

It didn’t occur to the green-haired idiot that Nami hated standing alone at festival’s entrance, waiting for him to arrive. It didn’t helped that a lot of couples who passed by gave her lingering, wondering gazes before whispering to each other making her feel uncomfortable.

“Let’s just go,” Nami spun around to leave him still scratching his dumb head. “We’re wasting time.” She said it in a rather curt tone that made Zoro feel dread coiling inside his stomach.

Damn it! They barely made it past the festival entrance and Nami’s already mad at him.

It only took three strides for him to catch up to her as she entered the festival street. It was filled with people of all ages. Japanese lanterns hung overhead lighting the whole place, along with decorations made from colorful papers in different shapes. There were ornamental balls with their colorful streamers everywhere while stalls for food, games and other items for sell bordered both sides. Children ran around them, as their parents breathlessly tried to catch up, warning them that they might get lost.

“Oi Nami,” he called as the orange-haired girl pouted her way through the festival’s jam-packed and noisy street. “Come on. Wipe that sulky look off your face.”

“Hmph!”

“Fine!” He huffed, feeling his temper flare at her tantrum.

Nami tried to hurry away from him and Zoro rolled his eye as her effort was futile while wearing a yukata.

He followed her with a scoff as she continued making her way through crowd, ignoring the stalls around them. She was heading at the end of the street where a bridge leading to the temple was situated. It was lit up with the same lanterns that were hanging above them. Bamboo trees lined up its sides decorated with tanzaku in different colors.

“Nami.”

“What?!” She hissed barely glancing at him as she continued walking, her wooden sandals clicking angrily at every step.

“Why are you angry? I arrived here didn’t I?”

She stopped in front of a stall selling candy apples and chocolate bananas and stared at him in disbelief.

The idiot had forgotten that they agreed to meet an hour earlier than what their friends had set so they could enjoy the festival together without any interruptions.

Nami didn’t bother reminding him of that. What’s the use? Instead she just pressed some fingers to her temple to subdue the impending headache that is Zoro.

They still haven’t made it past ten minutes together and she’s ready to kick the living daylights out of his moronic ass.

“Ugh. I give up,” she groaned after a few seconds, shoulders slumping dejectedly.

“What now?” Zoro growled at her.

Nami lifted her eyes to glare at him again. This was supposed to be a sort-of-‘romantic’ evening between the two of them.

They finally agreed to try and move their relationship one step further a week ago… from long-time friends to lovers finally…

She thought that this festival is the perfect opportunity to test the waters for their first ‘date’.

Did she honestly she believed things are going to be easy with this man? Not when it looks like Zoro still has to grasp the concept of ‘dating’.

This will definitely take a lot of work. A damn LOT of work!

She let out an exasperated sigh and Zoro’s brows furrowed.

“Let’s just go hang wishes on those bamboos and wait for the others so we can enjoy this festival.” Nami mumbled as she turned away from him for the second time that night, practically giving up the thought that they can pull off anything akin to a date at this festival.

Zoro frowned at what she said. Wait for the others so they can enjoy tonight?

Her statement actually hit a spot.

Weren’t they were supposed to enjoy this together? Wasn’t that the plan?

He ran a hand along his hair in frustration and followed her silently.

This time Nami was not hurrying away from him. She strode ahead in a cool manner, head shifting left and right as she observed the stalls lining the street.

His frown deepened.

Ok, maybe it’s his mistake for being late. But it’s not his fault he kept ending up on the other side of the street from the where the festival is taking place! It was too crowded and the directions posted for its location were confusing.

He had circled the area thrice before he spotted Nami—looking really pretty in her mikan-patterned, light-green yukata with her hair up in a side bun and decorated with a bouquet-like kanzashi, its dangling beads swinging slightly from her movement.

There were curling wisps of her orange hair framing her face and it made him want to reach out and touch them just to feel their softness against his fingers.

Zoro clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, mentally chastising himself as he recalled the look on Nami’s face earlier as she peered in the crowd waiting for him to show up.

It dawned into him that he didn’t like that expression on her.

He reached out to grasped her hand in his, stopping Nami in her tracks.

“Hey… I’m sorry ok?”

Nami looked surprised with what he said. She looked down and blinked at their joined hands disbelievingly before shifting her eyes up at him.

Then she pursed her lips as if trying to stop herself from smiling at him.

“You’re an idiot Zoro.”

“Yeah, I know.”

This time she didn’t fight the smile that wanted to appear on her lips.

“I should’ve expected this,” she said with a roll of her eyes as she squeezed his hand that was still clasping hers. “Next time… I’ll just pick you up in your apartment to save us time.” She stared straight in his eye, daring him disagree with her.

“Fine.” He answered and Nami looked startled at how easily he agreed. “If it saves me from your pouts and sulking as we—OUCH!”

Nami deliberately stepped on his feet with her wooden sandal with a cheeky smile on her face.

“I’ll make you regret saying that.”

It was Zoro’s turn to groan.

She tugged at his hand, urging him to continue moving forward into a less crowded spot near the bridge.

“Honestly… I’m looking forward spending this time with you,” she admitted quietly as they stood near the stall that sells tanzaku.

“I know,” he nodded and gazed at her seriously. He reached out to touch the curling wisp of her hair with his fingers. He was right. It was soft. “Me too.”

This one hour spent alone with him is precious for her and it is the same for him. They are still at beginning of their relationship… their friends still doesn’t have any inkling about the change in their status yet.

Nami had the right to be pissed at him earlier because he just wasted some of what was supposedly their time together.

They smiled at each other before Nami gave the sleeve of his yukata a rather hard yank.

“Let’s go Zoro! We still have a lot to do before the others are here.” Her tone immediately turned domineering as she pulled him towards tanzaku stall. “We need to hang our wishes on those bamboos first!”

Zoro just snorted and she grinned back at him.

“And you still have to treat me with some yakitori and candy apples!”

“Hah? Why should I do that?!”

“This is a date Zoro! The guy usually shelves out the cash when you’re out on a date!”

“You witch! You’re just trying to get back at me for being late!”

Nami gave him her most dazzling smile.

“That too… And we still have to check all the stalls with those games. You promised me goldfishes remember?” She pointed at the stall for goldfish scooping.

“I have?”

“Yeah… you did…” Nami glowered at him. “You’re bragging about your scooping skills the other day. And we made a bet on how many you’ll really be able to catch.”

Zoro laughed. That they did. “Fine, I’ll catch you some alright?” He conceded and gave her a soft smile that made Nami melt on the spot.

He reached for her hand again as she lead them towards their first agenda for the night.

They still have half an hour to enjoy their date without their cheeky friends intruding. Well… if worst comes to worst… he and Nami can just sneak away from them to enjoy the fireworks and the rest of the festival together.

#zoro x nami #ZoNa #zonami #zonalove #zona fanfiction #zona one-shots #zona prompt requests #zoro nami fanfiction #roronoa zoro #nami

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gwaean · 3 years

Text

The Rescuers

Part Two: "I see it for the first time - There’s no cry in being kind”

Part One: Old acquaintances meet again

Warnings: Mentions of blood, implicit mentions of sex.

Words Count: 1,633

Notes: This part continues right where the other ended but this time we've two povs! Also, we have a bit of howzer and some flirting happening. And I've made a playlist for the fanfic, if you wanna listen while reading it's here: Spotify | Apple Music

“What the hell?” - He sits on the stretcher.

“What… What have I done? What…”

“Hey, hey. You’re okay now.” - You say. “They no longer control you.”

“How… How did you do it?”

“So, Rex told me that the kaminoans put these inhibitor chips on all of you guys. All clones have one of these in their heads. And somehow it makes you obey orders and you just loose control of yourself. I think?”

“Yeah. I was there all the time. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t help it. I just had to obey and do everything I was told to. Not matter how hard I tried to fight it….”

“I know, I know. This isn’t your fault. These bastards made you do it. But now, you’re free and you gonna be ok.”

He looks at you. His expression is carrying so much emotions that he doesn’t even need to say anything. You know he’s broken. But he does gives you a little smile like he’s silently thanking you for helping him.

“Shouldn't we go?” He breaks the silence.

“Indeed. Before the get suspicious. But… do you have a plan or something? Like, they can’t know you’re without your chip or you’ll be considered a traitor.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. I’ve got to pretend I’m still loyal to them. And you… If anyone asks, we’re dating.”

“Hmmm…. Ok?” You answer. “I mean, what else could’ve I said?” You also think.

“So, shall we go, Cross?”

“Yes. But first, I need to do something.” He says taking your hand and forcing you to move. When you’re at the corridor he speaks again to you loud enough so the others can listen too:

“Darling, wait for me in my room, okay? I’ve got some things to take care of before I’m all yours.” He winks at you. It takes you a phew seconds to process what he meant with that then you finally go do what he asked you to.

———————————————————————

That was easy. Too easy. Crosshair always knew how to be mean and look scary. He learned soon enough that he needed to be like this or the others would never respect him. Or so he thought. But this reg speech earlier… It had somehow made him listened. This Captain Howzer put himself at risk in front everyone just so he could help his squad. He just spoke out like that in an empire base and some of those clones actually heard him. Cross had to admit, that was really brave specially to a reg. So maybe this guy was worth saving.

He entered the cell. It was just like the others: small, rather empty, clean enough and with just a seat for the prisoner. Howzer was sitting looking down but when he entered the room he looked up right at him.

“Now, what do you want?” The captain said looking like he was done with all this already.

“I want…” Crosshair checked the surroundings again. No one was around. Good.

“I wanna help you.”

“What?” That seemed to catch the captain off guard.

“Yes, you heard it right. I want help you. I gonna set you free from here.”

“Really? And how do you plan to do that?”

“Oh, please, cut the sarcasm. I’ll find a way to take your chip off first.”

“My what?”

“I'm sorry, this gonna hurt a bit.” Poor Howzer looked at him even more confused.

Crosshair hit him hard. He passed out with a little cut on his head. The poor guy probably would have a bit of a headache later but at least with a real injury no one would get suspicious, right? Crosshair then carried Howzer all the way back to the medical bay. Some soldiers looked at them however none of them were brave enough to ask any questions. They all knew it was better not to question the commander decisions. And they could see a bit of blood on the other clone.

Crosshair had seen the imperials using the equipments before a few times. Even on him once. So he kind had his way and got it done quickly. Howzer got up soon after, still confused and a bit angry maybe?

“What the hell was all of that?”

“We don’t have much time. We have to leave.”

“Whoa, slow down. I’m not getting. Why you’re doing this? And why do we have to leave? And why… Why do I suddenly feel… I don’t know…”

“Free?” He nods in agreement. “The voice is gone, uh?”

“Yes? I guess?”

“Look, I saw what you did there. The way stood up to them, you didn’t have to do that. You could’ve left and save yourself. But you went back and spoke in front of everyone. You didn’t abandon your men. And…” Crosshair looked down. “That’s something I can admire…” He was thinking about his team then.

“I just did what I thought it was right. These guys have been with me for years, they’re my brothers. I can’t just leave them behind. That’s why I can’t just leave now too.”

“But you must. I know you cared about them but you can’t do anything if you’re just a prisoner or dead. You have to save yourself before you can save others, you know?” The captain looks down.

“You're probably right…” He takes a moment. “I just wish I could do more for them.”

“I get it. Though right now, I don’t think there’s much you could do anyway.”

“Yeah…”

“So, I’m gonna pretend we’ve got to move you to another base. I’m gonna say I don’t want anyone on your team having ideias of breaking you out. They saw you speech out there, so they might believe having you here could have a bad influence on these regs. These soldiers aren’t very bright anyway.”

“Right. Seems like a plausible plan. Anything else?”

“Look angry. I’m gonna send you back to cell so I can prepare some things and then be ready to leave, ok?”

“Yep.”

“Let’s go.”

Crosshair handcuffed him and started pushing him. Howzer acted out like he was angry and fighting him. The commander them curse him and threat him and so Howzer pretend he was fighting back. They made a whole scene all the way back to the captain scene and everyone kept staring at them curious and whispering stuff. Crosshair finally throw him at the cell and they both cursed each other.

“We're moving to another base. He’s too much trouble for us here.” Crosshair informed the guards. They nodded in agreement.

“Agreed, sir. We don’t others getting ideais from his little speech back there.”

“Exactly my thoughts.” He pause for a second. “I just have some things to take care of before.” They seemed to understand what he was talking about.

“Have your time, sir.”

The commander walked back to his room trying not to think too much about anything. Because whenever he did it was a rollercoaster of emotions and evasive thoughts and he hated. He hated not being able to control a part of him. And lately, he hasn’t being able to have a lot of control of anything at all. It sucked.

He opened his door to find you sitting on his bed reading one of his books while looking so comfortable, liked you owned the place. He wasn’t sure if he liked or was a bit jealous of your calmness. Probably both.

“Hey there, booknerd.” You almost jumped.

“Oh, sorry, did I bother you?” He joked.

“Haha. You’re so funny. You should be a comedian, you know?”

“I know.”

“Now, what do we have to do, commander?” Oh, he really liked to be called commander. Probably more than you’re anticipating.

“Actually, right now nothing.”

“Oh, really?” You smiled. “And after that?”

“You're gonna keep up the act for a little longer. I’m gonna pretend to have Captain Howzer moved. I’m plan on taking you plus two guards.”

“Alright. What else?”

“You gonna have to pretend you like to be shown around by me. Or not. And do you happen to know how to shoot well?”

“Not sure about the first part.” He smirked like he was saying “Yeah, sure. We’ll see about that.” And you continued: “But yes, I can handle myself pretty well with a blaster.” You showed him your holster where your blaster was kept.

“Good. This shouldn’t be so hard then.”

“You know, I thought as observant as you are, you’ve assumed that before.”

“Oh, sorry, sweetheart. I was too busy thinking planning stuff, fighting the chip and looking at other things…..” He looked at you up and down. You almost felt naked.

“Holy…” You started. “Well, now I get how you used to have quite a reputation…”

“Did I?”

“Please, don’t be an ass.”

“That’s an impossible request.”

“At least you know. Now can we go?” He moved and sited right next to you on his bed. Then he whispered on your ear:

“Why? Scared of being alone with me?” That sent shivers up your body. And you quickly moved.

“No! Oh, please no!” You shouted.

“Then why are you shouting, babe?”

“Because I can.” You continued shouting. “Now shall we go or what?” You now spoke quieter.

“Hmmm… Five more minutes. Now sit here and keep reading your book. I promised I’ll be quiet.” You couldn’t help but obey him while you rolled your eyes at him. You kept reading and he support his chin on your shoulder and appeared to be reading with you.

“Now shall we start moving? It’s been like 10 minutes already.”

“Yes. And looked tired but at the same time happy. Like you just had a really damn’ good time.”

“And why?”

“Well, I don’t wanna loose my reputation.” You rolled your eyes at him again.

“Let’s just go, commander.”

#bad batch #clone wars #star wars #clone troopers #tbb writing #tbb crosshair #ct 9904 #crosshair x reader #crosshair #crosshair x oc #crosshair x y/n #crosshair x you #swwriting #writers on tumblr #the bad batch fanfiction #fanfic #the bad bad spoilers #gn!reader

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auroracalisto · 3 years

Text

perfect slice of heaven

summary: in an attempt to save you, dean made you leave. he never realized that it would cost you both everything.

pairing: dean x reader

word count: 1.7k words

warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst with a happy ending, uhhh i don’t want to spoil anything but mentions of Heaven, Hell, and resurrection, mentions of attacks, depiction of life-threatening wounds, breakups, uh, blood, wounds, more blood

a/n: i started writing this and i couldn’t stop. supernatural is legit the perfect show for angst. sorry, i don’t make the rules

It was never supposed to have been this way.

The blood that pooled around you, the coolness that overtook your body.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

You were supposed to have lived. To have had a life, just like Dean wanted you to. You were supposed to have gone out and had a child, a family, a proper job where you could have some apple pie life.

But here you were, lying in a pool of your own blood, wishing that Death would take you sooner.

While you waited for the release you so craved, you began to think. Is this what Dean wanted for you? A life away from him? No sort of protection, other than yourself? He couldn’t have possibly expected you to move on. He was your everything. You remembered leaving him like it was yesterday.

“Dean, what do—Dean, stop. Look at me. What the hell are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need to leave. Just go, [Your name]. Stop wasting your time on a damn relationship that’s going to Hell.”

You slowly blinked at him, turning fully to face him. “Where is all this coming from?”

“You just need to leave, [Your name]. I don’t want to have to argue about this. I don’t want to be in a relationship with you anymore. Just go.”

You wondered if it was his way of protecting you from hurting anymore than you already did. But now, you just knew that his futile attempt at protecting you backfired, just like many other things in your life. Being a hunter was dangerous. You knew that before you became one. But Dean made your life better. Happier. Fuller.

Sam was asleep in the back of the Impala, every now and then snoring and alerting the two of you that he wasn’t about to wake up.

As Dean drove along, you moved to where you could rest your head on his shoulder. “You know,” you smiled, glancing up at him through your lashes. “It would be fun to take a break.”

“A break?” he quickly looked down at you before returning his gaze to the black stretch of highway before him. “Like a vacation.”

“Exactly.”

“Where would we go?” he chuckled softly.

Hell, the two of you never went on a vacation. But creating plans. Knowing he wanted to go just as badly as you did. It made your heart swell.

As you laid there, you could feel your heart pounding. You wondered why you had the same feeling as you so often did talking to Dean, but then you realized it was your heart working overtime as you bled out in your living room.

It was never supposed to be this way.

It was never supposed to have ended so suddenly. Dean was supposed to have eventually come back around and asked you to take him back. Hell, it wasn’t the first time this had happened, to begin with. But you knew that it wouldn’t ever happen again. This would be the last time that you could even think of something like that.

With a shaky hand, you tried to force yourself to sit up. Pain rippled through your body, but you pulled yourself over to your phone that sat near the shattered coffee table. You were grateful your phone hadn’t been destroyed, and with what little of your adrenaline rush you had left, you called Dean’s number.

He never picked up.

You let out a soft sob as the voicemail began to record. “Dean,” you started, a shuddering breath coming soon after. “Dean, I love you. And I want you to know that no matter what, I don’t blame you for anything. You telling me to leave… this… this happening. Nothing… is your fault. I love you, more… more than you know it, you know?” You took in a labored breath, pressing your back up against the wall. You looked at the pool of blood that trailed underneath you from the spot you had been lying in.

“Dean, there’s so much blood,” you whispered. “I… I’m surprised I haven’t passed out yet,” you closed your eyes. “Maybe… maybe it’s because I needed to talk to you. To hear your voice. But… you can hear me. That—that’s enough. Yeah, that’s enough. Dean,” you coughed, tears forming in your eyes. “I don’t… don’t know who or what attacked me. But—but don’t, don’t you dare, don’t go looking for them. It’s okay, Dean,” you said, your hand growing weak and your eyes growing heavy. “I love you, Dean.”

The voicemail beeped one last time, alerting you that your time limit for the message was up. You let your phone drop to your side and you slowly rested your head back on the wall. In a moment of weakness, you thought out a short prayer to Castiel, hoping that somehow, he would hear you.

And for once in your life, you let the darkness overtake you.

It was an hour later that Dean had managed to charge his phone and get a signal back onto it. Sam had forced him out to hunt a nest of vampires, claiming that it would “help get his mind off of you.” Whatever the hell that meant.

Dean only froze when his phone came on and he saw the voicemail. You never called him.

Dean quickly played it, putting it up to his ear. His heart broke when he heard your voice. And his entire world felt like it was crashing as he heard you talk about blood and how you hadn’t passed out yet. When the voicemail ended, he quickly called you back—multiple times over. But your phone just buzzed beside you, and your body made no move to answer it.

You were gone.

You were gone, and it wasn’t due to something of Dean’s irrational mind. You were gone because he wasn’t there. You had been living in a nice neighborhood, trying to live that apple pie life, and you were gone. You were gone doing something that Dean had practically forced onto you, and there was nothing that he could do about it now.

It was only seconds after you had passed that Castiel heard your prayer. And it was only minutes later that he found where you were in Heaven.

It shocked you when you saw him. “Cas?”

The angel began to smile. “[Your name]. I heard you and I came. I’m afraid I came a moment too late.”

“Why am I in Heaven?” you asked, a confused look on your face.

He chuckled softly. “Sam and Dean are both meant to go to Heaven due to the acts of other angels. I made sure that you would come as well, especially when your pure heart should have ended up in Heaven to begin with, [Your name].”

You took in a deep breath. Heaven was definitely something. No pain, no heartache, and the faint memories of what you had while you were hurting on Earth. Everything else just exemplified what you loved on Earth. Dean was in your Heaven. But you knew it wasn’t right. As soon as you arrived, you knew it wasn’t your Dean. And you knew you weren’t alive.

Castiel placed a hand on your shoulder and he gave you another smile. “I’ll give you a choice. You can stay here and prevent yourself from any harm. Or…”

“Or?”

“I can take you back to your body.”

“Can you heal me?”

Cas smiled. “Of course I can.”

You thought for a moment, taking another look at your little Heaven before you nodded. Dean would be lost without me, you thought. You didn’t know if that was true—but a part of you wanted to believe that.

Just moments after Dean had busted down the door to your home, he saw Castiel kneeling over your body and a soft glow emanating from your wounded abdomen. Dean rushed over, practically scrambling to your side as soon as he was down on his knees. He quickly cupped your cheeks, looking you over as your eyes peeled open.

He pressed a rough, yet passionate kiss to your lips, tears forming in his eyes.

“I thought—I thought you were dead—”

“I was.”

Dean’s eyes widened as he looked back at Castiel.

He had taken a seat on the couch and he most definitely looked like he was a hot mess. He rested his head back and without a warning, he passed out. He exerted much of his energy bringing you back.

Dean looked back down at you and he couldn’t help his tears from falling. “I am so sorry… I never should have made you leave.”

You gave him a weak smile. “You didn’t know something like this would have happened.”

“No. No, but I should have seen it coming. I should have. I—”

You reached up, pressing a gentle hand to his cheek. “But I’m here. Cas brought me back… It’s alright. I’m alright.”

“You look like a disaster,” Dean mumbled, leaning against your hand.

You scoffed. “I feel like it.”

Dean hesitantly smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “Never again. I will never allow something like this to happen again. I am so sorry, [Your name].”

You just smiled, taking in a deep breath. Perhaps your life would have been better cut short. You might have had it better off in your picture perfect Heaven. But right now, looking at Dean, you knew that he needed you more than you needed that apple pie life. You knew that he wouldn’t make it without you being around, even if he would never admit it.

Carefully, Dean brought you into a hug and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I promise you, I’ll take care of whoever did this in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “I’m sure you will. But uh… maybe… maybe for now, help me take a bath. I… feel disgusting.”

He let out a soft laugh. “You come back from the dead and the first thing you want is to take a bath?” he smiled down at you. “I hate to say that I can understand.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm, but you didn’t argue. This would definitely be traumatic, but now, you knew that everything would be okay. At least, you hoped it would be.

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americasass91 · 4 years

Text

Last Kiss

Hello lovelies!! I’m back with my second submission to @drabblewithfrannybarnes awesome Autumn challenge! This one once again stars Ransom! It’s not as smutty as I usually do(I know, what’s wrong with me?). There’s also a quote from Grey’s Anatomy in here. Every time I hear it, I get chills. Also there are flashbacks and those will be in italics. Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy!!

Verbal Prompts:

“I love you, Jerkface.”

“It’s all just a bunch of Hocus Pocus

Location/Activity Prompts:

Fall Festival

Hayride

Walking through a park with leaves

Words:4.9k

Rating: Explicit(Maybe Mature?)

Warnings: Angst, Ransom being an asshole, some smut, language

September 22nd, 2019. Today was the first official day of Fall. It used to be your favorite time of the year. Nothing made you happier than the colder weather, the leaves changing colors, and of course Halloween.

That was all tainted now by memories of him.

It was all your fault really. Your friends told you not to get involved with him. Told you it would end in nothing but heartbreak. You really wished you would’ve listened to them. It would have definitely saved you a lot of heartache.

You can’t believe you wasted 3 years of your life with him. 3 years you would never get back. The only good thing about any of it is the lessons you learned from the failed relationship.

They say it takes 2 people to make a relationship fail. You don’t think that’s the case this time. You were totally and 100% devoted to him and making it work. You thought he was as well. You thought wrong.

September 3rd, 2015

You really hated going to the clubs. Why go out when you could be on your couch huddled under a plethora of blankets and binge watching your newest obsession, Schitt’s Creek?

But, unfortunately you had promised your friends you would stop being a hermit and rejoin society for the evening.

So you put on some black leggings, a long burgundy sweater, and some black ankle boots and head to your friends. You decided to walk since it was only a couple of blocks from your apartment.

The smile couldn’t leave your face if you wanted it to on your little walk. The air was chilly, Fall was definitely almost here. Boston was the most beautiful place during Fall. You couldn’t wait for the hayrides, getting lost in a corn maze, and delicious hot apple cider.

You finally reach the club and head inside to find your friends. It takes you no time at all to spot them at a table near the back. You head to the bar to order a drink before heading to your girls.

It’s crowded tonight so you find the only open spot and squeeze your way through and attempt to flag down the busy bartender.

After a few minutes of failed attempts you decide to sit on the stool and patiently wait until he comes over to you.

“Having trouble getting his attention, sweetheart?”

You turn your head to the left and you momentarily forget how to speak. This man attempting to start a conversation with you is beautiful. You’d say handsome but that’s not nearly good enough. He has amazing blue eyes that you feel yourself getting lost in. He chuckles when he realizes the effect he has on you. It shakes you out of your trance.

“Sorry, my brain quit working there for a minute. Yes, I can’t seem to get his attention.”

He smiles and takes a sip of what you assume is whiskey in his glass. He gives you a quick wink before turning his attention to the bartender. “Hey, Earl! This gorgeous lady here would like a drink.”

You blush furiously. He just called you gorgeous. When he looks like the walking version of Adonis.

Earl comes right over. “Sorry dear. Super busy tonight. What can I get for you?”

Still being in a Fall mood you decide on an Angry Orchard.

He nods and goes to get it for you.

“I never would have pegged you as a hard cider girl.” The beautiful mystery man says as he not-so-discreetly checks you out.

“I guess I’m full of surprises. Thanks though for getting his attention. Are you guys friends? He came over here right away.”

“Nah, I just spend a lot of money here so he never makes me wait. I guess you could say I’m at the top of his priority list.” He gives you a heart stopping smile when Earl comes back over and sets your Cider in front of you.

“That’ll be 4.50 hun.”

As you’re reaching for your wallet, the mysterious man speaks up again. “Put it on my tab Earl. In fact, put whatever else she drinks tonight on my tab, too.”

Earl nods and goes to tend to one of the many other patrons. You look wide eyed over at the stranger. “Thank you but I can’t let you do that. You don’t even know me.”

“Well let’s remedy that shall we? I’m Ransom.” He holds out his hand to you.

You gladly shake it. “Y/N. What are these drinks going to cost me, Ransom?”

He releases your hand as he smirks at you. “Well gorgeous, what will it get me?”

You put your finger to your chin and ponder for a moment. “Hmmm. Well I guess you could take me out on a date.”

He grins even wider. “Done. How about next Friday night? Say 7? We could meet here?”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then, handsome-I mean, Ransom.” You wink as you grab your drink and head over to your friends.

“Geez took you long enough!” Jessica exclaims as you sit beside her.

“Sorry! I was in the middle of staring at the hottest man I’ve ever seen. And I must have charmed him because I have a date next Friday!”

Your 3 friends look towards the bar. “Okay, which lucky guy is it babe?” Rachel wants to know as she looks back at you.

“That one, in the blue sweater. His name is Ransom.” You point discreetly towards him.

Jessica looks at you with wide eyes. “No, Y/N! You can’t go out with him! He’s an asshole! Like I’m talking major asshole. He changes girlfriends like he changes underwear! Go cancel it.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard nothing but horrible things, Y/N. Save yourself the heartbreak and go end it now.” Rachel agrees with Jessica.

You can’t believe them. The first date you’ve had in god knows how long and they are both trying to shut you down. You turn towards Sophie, who has remained unusually quiet. “Well what about you, Soph? What’s your opinion?”

She glances over at him. “Look, I’ve also heard he’s an asshole but I also heard he’s phenomenal in bed so what’s wrong with her getting some?” She then directs her gaze at Jess and Rachel.

“Nothing is wrong with that at all! We just know how she gets. She can’t just sleep with him and then be done. That’s not her. She’ll catch feelings. Like always.”

You glare over at Jessica. “First of all stop talking about me like I’m not even here! And yes I know I’ve managed to catch feelings in the past but for Christ’s sake it’s just a date! It’s not like I accepted a marriage proposal. Who said I’d even want to see him again after Friday?”

You regret more than anything not canceling that date.

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October 27th, 2015

By now you were on your 10th date with Ransom. You had suggested a horror movie marathon at your place which he graciously accepted. You were still trying to find the asshole part of him. He’s been nothing but amazing to you so far.

You answer the door as soon as you hear him knocking. He greets you with a huge smile and a bag of snacks. “Hi, gorgeous.” He drops the bag and pulls you in for a searing kiss. This is as far as you two had gone and you were hoping to change that tonight.

You smile as you break from the kiss. “What movie do you want to start with first?”

He picks up the bag and hands it to you as he heads into the living room. “Why not start with a classic? Halloween.” He picks it up and heads to put it in the DVD player.

“Perfect! I’ll go get the drinks and snacks.”

After grabbing a couple of beers and some popcorn you head back in to find Ransom all comfy on your couch. He smiles and opens his arms for you. You happily oblige and get settled in them before pressing play.

You make it til almost the end before the kissing starts. Which leads to you straddling him. Which then leads to grinding down on his growing erection.

He groans and pulls out of the kiss. “Should we take this to your bedroom, gorgeous?”

You nod enthusiastically and lead him to it.

Well Sophie was definitely right about one thing, he was phenomenal in bed.

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November 15th, 2015

You’ve officially been dating Ransom for about 2 months now. And you couldn’t be happier.

You were currently in the throes of passion and tangled up in the sheets with Ransom buried deep inside of you.

“Come on, gorgeous. Move those hips faster. You’re the one that wanted to be on top.” He smacks your ass and grabs onto your hips.

You place your hands on his chest and move as fast as your body will allow. “I’m going as fast as I can, Ran. You could help you know.”

He smirks as he sits up and starts meeting your thrusts. He grabs onto your hips and starts basically moving them for you. All you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and hang on for the ride. You know you’re about to fall over the edge.

“God damn, gorgeous. I can feel you squeezing me tight. Come on, come for me. Make a mess all over this big cock.” He moves one hand and starts rubbing your clit in hard circles. That’s all you needed. You come with a scream of his name. Your release triggers his. He whispers your name as he spills inside of you. He thrusts into you a few more times before he stills and pulls you in for a hug.

After a few minutes both of your breathing comes back to normal. He pulls back a little and tucks some hair behind your ear. He cups your face and runs his thumb over your cheek. He pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss. So different from the heated ones you were sharing not even 2 minutes ago. He pulls away and looks at you with what you can only describe as love in his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N. I know it’s only been 2 months but, I do.”

A smile breaks out across your face. “Thank god you said it. I’ve been wanting to say it for weeks now!”

He gets the biggest smile on his face. “You have not! You’re just saying that because I was brave enough to say it first you chicken!” He says teasingly as he starts peppering kisses over your neck, causing you to giggle.

You gasp, pretending to be offended. “Chicken? Excuse you, I am no chicken. I just didn’t want to scare you away!”

He starts poking right under your ribs, knowing how ticklish you are. “You couldn’t scare me away even if you tried, chicken.”

You try to pull out of his grasp but he holds you even tighter. He pulls you back in for another toe curling kiss.

You pull enough away so that you can tell him, “I love you, Jerkface.”

He throws his head back in laughter. “I love you, too, gorgeous girl.”

September 1st, 2016

You were wrapped up in Ransom’s arms and listening to the sound of the rain hitting the windows. You both decided today was a great day to stay in bed and do nothing. You had recently moved in with Ransom and so far things had been amazing. Sure you had the occasional spat but the make-up sex was always fantastic. Sometimes you think he starts them on purpose.

You were almost asleep when you heard Ransom say something. You gaze sleepily up at him. “I’m sorry Ran, I didn’t hear you. What was that?”

He continues running his hand through your hair as he smiles down at you. “I asked if you wanted to go to the Fall Festival when it’s up and running? I know it’s your favorite thing.”

You sit up a little and look down at him. “Ransom, you hate the Fall Festival. You wouldn’t go with me last year.”

“Yeah, well I want to take you this year. I even promise to enjoy myself. Please?”

Well how could you say no to that?

“Okay, fine. You’ve pulled my leg.”

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October 21st, 2016

As soon as Ransom pulled into the festival you started squealing with excitement. He couldn’t help but laugh at your eagerness, almost feeling it himself. Nervous, but eager nonetheless.

You both get out of the car and head towards the gate. “What do you want to do first, Ransom?”

He pretends to ponder it for a moment. “How about we get you some cider and then go for a hayride?”

You beam up at him. “Perfect!”

You can’t help but notice as you’re in line for the hayride how weird Ransom is acting.

“You okay, babe? You’ve been acting off all day.”

He looks down at you. “Uh, yeah. Fine. Just a lot on my mind. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You furrow your brows. “Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Before he has a chance to reply, you’re being called for the next hayride.

You’re relaxing against Ransom and enjoying the beautiful view when he clears his throat. You give him a questioning look.

“Y/N. I know we haven’t been together terribly long and have only been living together for a few months but”...he reaches into his brown coat pocket and pulls out a small box. You gasp and put your hand over your mouth... “You have really changed my life for the better. You make me so happy and I just want to do the same for you. So with that being said”...He opens the box and reveals a beautiful diamond ring...“Will you marry me?”

You can’t even speak. You have tears pouring down your face. You are beyond happy. You furiously nod your head and throw your arms around his neck. He reciprocates the hug and wraps his arms around you. You hear clapping coming from the other people on the hayride.

He pulls away from you and grabs your left hand. He places the diamond on your finger. “Thank you gorgeous girl.”

“Thank you for what?”

“Making me the happiest I think I’ve ever been.”

“Is this why you wanted to bring me to the festival?”

He looks away sheepishly. “Well, yeah. What better way to propose to a girl who loves Fall than on a hayride?”

You smile and give him a kiss. “You know we’re having a Fall wedding right?”

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t expect anything different. But can we be engaged for a while? Just enjoy it before the headache of wedding planning takes over?”

“Fine with me, handsome.”

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September 15th, 2018

With the wedding only a little over a month away, you were super busy. Not only did you have work but now you had to plan a wedding too.

Ransom didn’t help with it. He said he wanted you to do what you wanted and he’d be happy.

Well easier said than done. Of course your girls helped you out. After they got over the initial shock of Ransom proposing, they were on board for a Fall wedding and you couldn’t have gotten the planning done without them.

The stress of the wedding has really been taking its toll on you and Ransom. You guys have been fighting a lot more recently. You’ve actually taken your ring off a few times and threw it at him, claiming you could never marry a child like him. Of course that always blew over in a few hours and he would slide the ring right back on as he fucked you against the nearest surface.

You guys haven’t had much time together lately what with you working and wedding planning. You were in some desperate need of Ransom.

You decided to leave work at noon today to surprise him.

On your way home you stopped by his favorite sandwich shop to pick up lunch and even stopped by a bakery for some cookies. Pumpkin chocolate chip. His favorite.

You smile when you see his Beemer in the driveway. You couldn’t wait to see him. And let’s be real, fuck him.

Your smile falters however as you’re unlocking the door. You hear some odd noises coming from the kitchen.

You turn the corner and stop dead in your tracks. You drop everything in your hands to the floor. There was your fiancé, with some girl bent over the kitchen counter, fucking into her without abandon.

He looks over at the noise and notices the food spilled all over the floor. He moves his gaze up your body and reaches your tear-filled eyes. He holds out his finger to you, asking you to hold on a minute.

Your jaw drops. Not only is he fucking some bitch against YOUR kitchen counter, he has the audacity to tell you to wait?

He turns his attention back to the whore in front of him and picks up his pace a little. You can’t stand there any longer. You head upstairs to your shared bedroom and start looking for your suitcase. You find it buried in the closet and throw it opened onto the bed. You start throwing clothes into it, not even bothering to fold anything. You are trying your hardest not to let the tears fall. You couldn’t let him see you cry.

A few minutes later you hear him come into the room. “Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?”

You stop rummaging through your underwear drawer and turn towards him. He’s standing at the doorway looking shocked that you’re packing. “Excuse me, shouldn’t I have asked you that question when I walked in and found you fucking some random girl in our kitchen?”

He rolls his eyes as he walks in the room and starts taking your clothes out of the suitcase. “Would you calm down? It’s not like you’ve been willing lately. Had to find somebody else to take care of my needs.”

He was saying this like it was no big deal. You couldn’t believe it. Sure you’d been stressed and tired lately and had turned down a couple advances from him. But you had sex only 2 weeks ago so it hasn’t even been that long. You started yelling. “It’s been 2 weeks Ransom! Not 2 years! I’m sorry I’ve been busy working and planning our wedding alone!”

He once again rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms. You start throwing your clothes back in the suitcase. “You’re not leaving. It’s your fault I had to go find some slut to get off. You’ve been turning me down and acting like a real bitch lately. What did you expect me to do?”

You close your suitcase and zip it up. You look at him, the tears trying desperately to fall down your face. “I expected you to be faithful to me no matter what. But I guess that was asking too much.”

You brush past him and head down the stairs. You can hear him stomping behind you. “So that’s it? You find me fucking someone else and you’re done? What about all the others, huh?”

You stop dead in the hallway and turn around. “How many others have there been Ransom? Have you been faithful to me at all?”

He comes over and puts his hands on your shoulders. “I don’t think it really matters how many others. Haven’t I been nothing but good to you? What’s it matter if I fuck someone else from time to time?”

You shrug out of his grasp. “You just don’t get it do you? Am I not enough for you? Before this wedding planning we were having sex everyday! What more could you want?”

He puts his hands on his hips. “No, sometimes you’re not enough Y/N. Sometimes I want something different. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still love you.” That did it. The tears started falling. You weren’t enough, apparently you’ve never been enough.

“I deserve someone who thinks I am enough, Ransom. You were always more than enough for me. I guess I was asking too much for the same in return. Now you can go fuck anyone you want. Don’t let me stand in your way.”

You turn to leave and feel him grab your arm. He makes you drop your suitcase and spins you around. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss. The tears are really falling now. You realize this will be the last time you kiss Ransom Drysdale so you indulge yourself a little and kiss him back. You wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers through his hair. He tries to push you back against the wall, that’s when you come back to reality.

You pull away from him and step back. “No, Ransom. You can’t just kiss me and make this better. Nothing is going to make this better. I’m done.”

“Then why the fuck did you kiss me back?”

You pick up your suitcase off the floor. “I guess I just wanted a last kiss from you.”

You turn to leave when he yells at you. “You could at least have the decency to give me back the fucking ring I spent 50 grand on!”

That struck a nerve. You drop your suitcase by the door. “You want it back? Fine!”

You head into the kitchen and remove the ring from your finger. You take a moment to look at it one more time. It really was beautiful.

You hear Ransom come into the kitchen. “Y/N, what are you doing? Give it to me!”

You chuck the ring down the sink drain and flip the switch for the disposal. You turn around to leave and see Ransom standing there with his mouth hanging open. “You fucking bitch! I was going to return that to get my money back!”

You don’t even respond. You just head towards the door and grab your suitcase and don’t look back.

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January 20th, 2019

Your friends allowed you to cry over Ransom for only a few months before they came to your apartment and did an intervention. You had only been leaving for work and groceries. Listening to Taylor Swift’s song, Last Kiss, on repeat.

You were thankful for them. Not once did any of your friends say I told you so. But they did all threaten to castrate him.

They also told you that the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else. So you did, a few times.

You decided that tonight was another great night to take someone home. You were hoping it would be this guy at the bar you've been staring at for the past hour.

You decide to just go for it. You ask your friends if you look okay before you start your way towards him. Unfortunately you were stopped about halfway there. By none other than Ransom.

“Well, look who we have here. Y/N, nice to see you.”

You knew this moment would come eventually. You’d been practicing what you were going to say to him. “Hugh, wish I could say the same.”

“Hugh? Ouch. I remember a time when you were moaning Ransom, sweetheart.”

“Yeah well you did a good job to make sure that wouldn’t happen again.”

“Who says it couldn’t? I wouldn’t mind taking you home tonight.” He runs a finger down your arm.

“Ugh, pass.” You start to walk past him. But of course he wasn’t done running his mouth.

“Oh, so you can whore around town and fuck random strangers but you won’t go to bed with me?”

You whip around and glare at him. “What did you just say to me?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and smirks at you. “Yeah, I heard you’ve been sleeping around. Turning into a little whore. I’m proud.”

You walk up and slap him hard across the face. Everyone in the bar has stopped to stare at the two of you. “You don’t get to call me a whore. I’m sorry that I thought you were going to be the person I spent the rest of my life with. You were it for me, Hugh. But you had to go and fuck someone else. So yes, I slept with a few people to try and forget you. I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what you broke. If anything, you’re the whore.”

He stands there, mouth agape, with his hand over his cheek where you had slapped him.

You don’t even give him time to say anything. You head back over to your friends. They all high five you and tell you how amazing you had been.

Ransom feels all eyes on him and decides it’s probably best if he leaves.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁 September 22nd, 2019(Current day)

Since Ransom ruined Fall for you last year, you decided to enjoy every second of it this year. Your goal for the day was to take a nice long walk in the park and then go to dinner with your girls tonight.

You get dressed in a pair of black leggings and a grey sweatshirt that says ‘It’s just a bunch of Hocus Pocus’ from your favorite movie ever.

You put on your tennis shoes and grab your keys and a 5 from your wallet and head out.

You moved to New York a few months ago for a new job. You love it here. And so far Fall is just as beautiful here as it was in Boston. The only downside was you missed your friends. That’s why you were so excited for dinner tonight. They were coming in just to see you. Okay and to shop.

You gasp as you enter the park. The leaves are just beautiful. Orange, yellow, and red as far as the eye can see. You can’t help but smile. You just know this Fall will be better than last year was. You just have a feeling.

You spot a cart selling hot apple cider. You remove the 5 from the pocket in your leggings and stand in line. You thank the man who hands it to you and tell him to keep the change. Nothing is going to ruin your mood today.

You start leisurely strolling down a random path and just enjoy the crisp autumn air. There’s a chill to it today and you absolutely love it. You take a sip of your cider. It’s perfect.

You look to your left and see children laughing and jumping into piles of leaves. That was your favorite activity when you were a kid. You smile and go to take another sip of your cider. But before it reaches your mouth, it’s knocked from your grasp. Something has hit you from behind. You start to fall forward and reach your hands out to brace yourself. But then you feel a pair of hands grab your waist.

You hear a deep voice behind you. “Oh my god! Are you okay? I’m so sorry! I was trying to change a song on this stupid IPod and didn’t see you!.”

You turn around and get ready to give whoever ran into you a piece of your mind. But you’re stopped cold. There's a pair of beautiful blue eyes looking back at you. You quickly shake your head and move your gaze over his face. He looked almost familiar. Almost like Ransom. But more handsome if that was possible. He had the same blue eyes but instead of brown he had a gorgeous head of blonde hair.

Once you realize he’s still holding onto you and you’re staring at him like a creeper, you take a step back and clear your throat. “Oh, it’s okay. No blood, no foul.”

He smiles at you as he gives you a once over. “You sure? I didn’t injure you did I?”

You return his smile. “Not at all.” You hold your hand out. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

He shakes your hand. “Steve, nice to meet you too.” His gaze lowers to your shirt. “You like Hocus Pocus, too?”

You reluctantly release his hand. “Like it? It’s only my favorite movie.”

“One of mine too! Autumn is actually my favorite time of the year.”

You smile widely. “Me too! It’s the best!”

His gaze then falls to the ground behind you. “Oh, did I make you spill your cider? Please let me buy you another one. I know how important hot cider can be on a chilly day.” He holds out his arm for you to take.

You loop your arm through his. “Are you sure? You really don’t have to.”

He starts walking in the direction of the cider cart. “Of course I do. Besides it gives me an excuse to keep talking to the beautiful girl I almost ran over.”

You look down and blush. You knew this Fall was going to be better. You just felt it.

Every Cevans character tag list: @stargazingfangirl18

#ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey smut #Chris Evans #fall #sweaterbaeschallenge #steve rogers #captain america #Cici91 writes

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blitheringmcgonagall · 3 years

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Ahsbejsnfjr Mia!!!! CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!

I'm so Happy for you :)))) 💛💛💛😁😁😁😀😀😀🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

Anyways can I get Sirius and Lily brotp please......💛💛💛

You can't tell me she wasn't bestie with Sirius before James. They are so amazing!!!!!!

@secretsongdeer thank you!!! to celebrate a very exciting/big reader milestone of We Can Be Heroes on fanfic.net (I still can’t get over it, I much prefer ao3 but anyway!), I asked for prompts and so... Okay so this got out of control and ended up being more that just Blackevans brotp but I hope you like it...

Prongs, what did you do?

“I hate men!” Lily said, flinging her bag onto the floor of the Gryffindor common room and throwing herself onto the sofa.

Sirius Black, who was already seated on said sofa and had been pretending to read when she came in, looked up briefly, raising his left eyebrow.

“What?” said Lily.

“I am a man, Evans,” he said.

“And?” Lily said, sending him a petulant scowl.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Sirius said, trying not to smile as he went back to pretending to read said book.

“Very like that,” she said, sliding down the sofa and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Any particular chap bothering you today?” he asked lightly.

“I told you, all of them!” Lily said, rolling her eyes at him.

“All of them in particular?” Sirius asked.

“Well... I can’t tell you about one of them,” she said, kicking her foot against the low footstool.

That had to be Snape. Sirius made a mental note to hex the bastard as soon as the opportunity arose.

“And?”

“I can’t tell you about the other two either,” Lily said, throwing her head back against the cushion and sighing again.

Snape’s friends. The six mini Death-Eaters Snape hung around with could all do with additional hexing, the bigoted bastards. He clenched his jaw.

“And?” he said.

“And your stupid, infuriating friend!” Lily said, looking up at him again and glaring.

Her emerald eyes were utterly beautiful, but most people found them scary as fuck when she was angry.

Sirius Black was not most people. He knew Lily Evans like the back of his hand. This was only a recent and rather startling discovery.

“Ah, Prongs?” he said, failing to keep a straight face. “What’s he done this time?”

“He’s...”

“Yes?”

“He’s... well, if you must know, it’s more a case of what he hasn’t done!” Lily scowled.

“You’ve lost me there,” Sirius said, putting down his book and turning towards her. “Evans?”

“Black.”

“I’m notoriously impatient.”

“That’s not a virtue, and you need to work on it,” Lily huffed.

“Duly noted,” Sirius grinned. “You’re pretty impatient too, by the way, old thing.”

“So?”

“So, à propos de rien, what did Prongs do?”

“French doesn’t suit you, Black.”

“I think it does, actually,” Sirius said, flicking his hair and settling back into the couch more comfortably.

Lily glanced up at him briefly.

“Oh fine. I’ll allow that.”

“I’m always right,” Sirius said, with a smug grin.

Lily gave him an exaggerated eye roll.

“Name once!” she snorted.

“I said you fancied Prongs and I was right,” Sirius said, casually biting into the apple he had been holding in his right hand.

Lily’s cheeks infused prettily.

“You’ve literally never said that!” she yelped.

“I did just now, Evans,” Sirius said smoothly. “And I was right.”

Lily opened her mouth to protest and then closed it.

“Kneazle got your tongue, old thing?” Sirius said, grey eyes sparkling.

“Fuck off!” Lily said, jabbing his shin with her foot.

Sirius folded his arms and stared back.

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this!” Lily said, covering her face with her hands and groaning dramatically. “If you tell him, I swear to-“

“My lips are sealed,” Sirius replied, taking another bite of his apple. “Do tell!”

“I’m going to die of-“ Lily said, still hiding behind her hands.

“High stakes. Sounds like Prongs,” said Sirius, taking another bite.

“Listen, you’d have lost it too if you have just worked up the courage to ask Remus out and another person beat you to it at the last minute!” Lily said, flinging herself back against the armrest with force. “Two seconds ahead of me! Two bloody seconds!”

“What?” said Sirius, looking mortified, and pointedly ignoring the reference to one of his best friends.

“James, Prongs, whatever you call the useless, dorky git.”

“He didn’t say yes though, surely?” said Sirius, who still seemed a bit flummoxed.

“Didn’t he?” Lily said, her voice rising. “Desdemona asked him to go to Hogsmeade on a date. He said, and I’m quoting here, thanks very much that’s so kind of you I’d love to go only in his stupid polite voice.”

Sirius winced.

“And?”

“And?” said Lily, cheeks bright red at this stage. “And then she said oh James, that’s, like, so amazing? I’m going to, like, die of happiness? I can’t wait to, like, tell all my friends, they’re actually, I’m not going to lie, going to scream?” Lily said, putting on a highly convincing version of a snooty pureblood accent. “And then she kissed his cheek and ran off! He stood there, like a deer caught in the headlights! And she’s not horrible or anything, she’s actually quite nice despite her snobby voice, and very attractive to boot, and I’m just being mean and-“

“Fucking hell!” Sirius said, staring at Lily. “What the fuck was he thinking?”

“I know, right?” Lily glared. “Tosser!”

“Blithering idiot!” said Sirius, growling.

“Stupid git!” Lily added.

“Wanker!” said Sirius.

“Gobshite,” Lily said.

“Merlin’s sake, man!” said Sirius.

“Well at least we’re on the same page,” said Lily, shooting Sirius a small smile.

“Blindingly incompetent...” said Sirius.

“Incompetent what?”

“Incompetent flirt? He’s meant to be asking you out?”

“He is?” Said Lily, staring at him in confusion.

“Hand on, when did this happen?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“Merlin, fuck!” Said Sirius, pacing up and down in front of the fireplace. “He’ll come flying in through that door in the next few seconds, Evans, mark my words, so you need to leg it upstairs and let me handle him, alright?”

“Is that wise?” Lily asked, biting her lip.

Sirius stopped pacing and stared at her momentarily.

“Well. I’d say wise would be pushing it,” he said. “but still preferable to your future husband pulling a Prongs.”

Lily raised her right eyebrow.

“Fucking it all up monumentally,” said Sirius, resuming his pacing. “I shall fix this, old girl, leave it to me.”

“What have I done,” groaned Lily as she hurried upstairs.

3333333333333

The door of the Gryffindor common room flew open and James Potter stormed inside.

“Spot of bother with the fairer sex, Prongs?” Sirius said, lounging against the mantelpiece looking suave and sophisticated.

“Why, Padfoot?” James said, slamming the door so hard that the Fat Lady shrieked in fright. “Why is this happening to me, eh? What the ever-living fuck am I meant to do now, eh?”

“Prongs, care to enlighten me as to why the fuck you said you’d go on a date to Hogsmeade with Desdemona Demelza de Mimsy-Porpington?” said Sirius, his voice hard as steel.

James glared back at him and then threw his arms into the air helplessly.

“I have no idea, Padfoot! Literally no idea what possessed me, okay? I’m disgusted at my absolute barminess! It’s like I can’t be rude to a girl and then I can’t tell her she’s wrong either? I’m a disaster, Padfoot! A walking disaster area!”

“I agree. Your idiocy has risen to stratospheric heights, Prongs,” Sirius said, folding his arms crossly. “! just had Evans in here, in literal tears, all your doing!”

“In tears?” Said James, looking appalled and tuggi8ng at his hair with both his hands.

“Howling,” confirmed Sirius.

“Merlin’s tits!” Said James, turning white. “Do you think I-“

“I think your mother shall hear about this,” said Sirius primly, pursing his mouth shut and shaking his head with a disappointed sigh.

“What!” James shouted, looking horrified. “You are not telling mum, Sirius Black, you traitorous turd! It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t mean to-“

“All you have to do is ask the damned girl out, Prongs, it’s not exactly rock ’n’ science.”

“Rock ’n’ what? Oi! Now listen here, you little shit! I won’t have you chastising me like a bloody two-year-old when you are literally doing the exact same thing when it comes to Moony!”

Sirius’ elbow promptly slipped off the mantelpiece.

“Ouch!” He yelped, digging his elbow into his side. “What the fuck is that meant to mean!”

“Oh don’t you try this palaver on me, Padfoot! I damn well know you’ve had the hots for Moony for at least the last six months, and you’ve done fuck all about it, so don’t get on your high horse and-“

“What?” Sirius croaked, his voice shrill with fear. “I haven’t ever-“

“Oh shut up, Pads! I’ve had to listen to all sorts of Godforsaken moans coming from your bed as you call out Moony’s name. Darling Moony! Remus yes! Moony don’t stop!”

“What?” Sirius is now white as a sheet. “B-but I put up silencing charms every single night?”

“Yeah, about that, you never learnt how to cast a very effective silencing charm, mate. Which was fine, I covered for you, until you started mouthing off this gross stuff about Moony. I sent a remedial charm so don’t worry, Remus didn’t hear you mooning over him. He just thinks you are obsessed with Benjy now.”

Sirius stared at him, momentarily speechless.

“Excuse me?” he croaked. “He what?”

“Yes, well, I may have charmed your voice to say Benjy every time you said the word Moony or Remus,” James said, not looking at all apologetic.

“What? Why? Why would you do that?” said Sirius, looking at James with abject horror.

“Because I was sick of you both! Useless gits!” said James. “You’re both besotted and doing fuck all about it!”

“Fuck all? I’ll have you know, you may not have noticed, but I’ve been flirting my arse off with Moony for MONTHS now Prongs, months! And where has that got me? Nowhere! I don’t think I could be any more bloody obvious!” Sirius said, looking affronted.

“Don’t be ridiculous! You and I may think it’s obnoxiously obvious you fancy him when you send him origami notes telling him stuff like Can I have your picture so I can show Santa what I want for Christmas? Or even Guess what's on the menu? Me-n-u, but Moony,” said James.

“But Moony what?” said Sirius, looking frazzled. “What the fuck could he possible think that relates to?”

“I bet he thinks you’re joking around, old chap,” said James calmly. “I did at the start.”

“Merlin, what the hell could he possibly think when I said Here I am. What are your other two wishes?” said Sirius.

“It’s Moony we’re talking about, not an ounce of sense in him when it comes to you, Padfoot!”

“He doesn’t like me!” said Sirius, his voice rising. “The time I sent him that note saying Are you French? Because Eiffel for you, do you know what he did? He turned around and told me, and I quote here, You’re a fucking idiot!”

“Merlin’s tits, Sirius!” shouted James, grabbing a hold of Sirius’ shirt collar. “That’s Moony’s way of flirting with you, you imbecile!”

“What?” said Sirius, eyes as wide as saucers.

“You’re blind!” said James heatedly.

“But how the fuck does Moony thinking I fancy the pants off Benjy help me?” Sirius said, grabbing a hold of James’ Quidditch top in turn and shaking him.

The door of the Gryffindor common room burst open once more. Remus Lupin stood there, eyes narrowed, lip curled, fists clenched, looking as though he planned on taking on every single wannabe Death-Eater in Hogwarts at once and could easily beat them. Sirius drew in a short breath, suddenly aware he was standing very close to James.

“Pray continue, don’t let my presence interrupt the snogging session you two had planned there,” Remus said, in a voice so icy that the dripping disdain had solidified.

“This is how it helps,” said James pleasantly, beaming at Sirius proudly.

“Oh fuck,” whispered Sirius. “Prongs, what did you do?”

If you liked it I can finish it??? It’s basically Jily & Wolfstar both oblivious idiots with wingmates Padfoot & Prongs (major Jily & Wolfstar shippers respectively) to the, ahem, (supposed) rescue....

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