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hier--soir · 5 months

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vis-à-vis

frankie morales x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: your bedroom window offers a direct view into your cute neighbour's apartment. as time goes by, you two start looking for each other through the glass. shy glances become desperate, needy glimpses into each other's lives until one day, you finally make contact. warnings/tags: neighbour!frankie, some serious exhibitionism, naked window neighbour behaviour, a mild obsession between two strangers, mutual masturbation, brief piv sex between reader and an OC [while frankie watches of course], very little actual foreplay, unprotected piv sex, a hint of possessive!frankie, come eating, getting fucked in a short little sundress yahtzee, two* people that need to be thrown in horny jail [three* if you include me] word count: 4.2k masterlist a/n: so i got caught up last night thinking about vis-a-vis apartments. the exposure of it, the perversion, the intimacy... annnnd this was born. hope you enjoy x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing

You live in a studio apartment on the fifth floor of a complex.

Crowded and cluttered, you live practically on top of yourself. Always squeezing through the doorway, shins permanently littered with grazes and scrapes from where you’ve bumped into the bedframe, the coffee table, the anything. Kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, all cramped within 600 square feet.

And there is only one window. A thick, wood framed sheet of glass that rests directly above your bed. When you peer out the window and look down, you are privy to every coming and going in the alleyway below – a constantly overflowing dumpster, a family of rats scavenging for discarded food scraps, the occasional drunken hook up between two sturdy brick walls on a Friday night. But if you let your eyes float up, if you stare directly out your window, you can see into his apartment. Into his kitchen, you realise quickly. Can clearly see a tall cabinet, a wide silver fridge.

And he’s a stranger to you, in those first few weeks of your lease. And then, slowly but surely, a little more than that.

At first, it’s just a brief catching of eyes. Awkward, almost shy moments where the two of you find yourselves peering outside at the same moment. Looking away quickly, cringing, drawing the curtains.

And then it’s wary smiles.

You sit up in bed one day, hair greasy and flattened from your pillow. Pull back the curtain and spy him standing in the kitchen with a mug in his hand. Rubbing sleep from his eyes with a tired fist and then pausing, nodding suspiciously at you through the glass. Good morning, stranger.

Another afternoon you get home from work to find him pacing, phone tucked between ear and shoulder, that far away face twisted up in a frown. You catch his eye and smile; offer raised brows and a curious thumbs-up that ask – You doing okay, stranger? He imitates the gesture, face going soft, kind. Long fingers curling into a wave, and then a thumbs-up in return. I’m good, thank you, stranger.

Your stranger is tall. Built strong, broad, with dark hair, dark features.

Your stranger has a moustache, facial hair, and he scratches his fingers through it when he cooks dinner some evenings.

Your stranger is never dressed up. He wears weathered t-shirts, hides his hair away beneath caps, slips sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose before he leaves the apartment.

Sometimes your stranger has guests. Loud, boisterous friends that fill up his kitchen. Two blond men frequent the apartment; lounge against his kitchen counters, nursing beers and talking shit. You hear them sometimes, on the warmer nights. He cracks the window to welcome in a breeze, unaware of you lying in your bed, hidden beneath the windowsill, eavesdropping on deep voices, and bellowing laughter. You play a game with yourself on those nights, trying to pinpoint which voice might be his. Hear the name Benny once or twice and imagine that it could be his name, although it never seems to fit.

Sometimes weeks will go by with no sign of him.

In those times, his curtain stays drawn back – no prying eyes to hide from except yours. You watch the morning light brighten his lonely kitchen. Admire how the setting sun hits his cabinets in a glistening display of orange and yellow. You find yourself anticipating a roommate. A wife or a husband; someone that shares his bed, who sips from that same mug he takes his coffee in each morning. But there is no one else. Your stranger is a solitary creature, just like you.

When he returns from these disappearances, your stranger often looks exhausted. Pours his coffee with hunched shoulders, rests heavier against the bench than is normal. He offers tired, drowsy waves to you in the mornings. Tilts the neck of a beer bottle to you in the evenings, cheers stranger.

And then one day, a handful of weeks into the sticky Floridian summer, things take a turn.

At dusk, freshly showered, you rub a towel over your skin, chasing wayward droplets of water as you tug open a drawer. Dry enough, you twist your hair into the towel to keep it off your skin. Pull a pair of underwear up your legs, slip a thin sleep singlet over your head. And only then do you look. Almost instinctual now, the way your eyes flick and flutter in the direction of the window, curious and searching. And to your surprise, those eyes are already on you. Dark and beady, they peer through the glass, piercing the bare skin of your legs, your arms, your stomach. Face slack and dappled with red, he meets your stare and flinches. Tears himself away and pulls the curtain closed in fast, jerky movements.

And where there should be shock, or perhaps an affronted uneasiness, you just smile. Tuck yourself into bed and grin, the skin beside your eyes pinching. So endeared to your stranger now, you find your stomach warming at the memory of his blush, his embarrassment at being caught. Pulse quickening, your hand slips beneath the band of your underwear, and you wonder how long he must have stood there. How long he let himself watch you, how much he’d seen. And you know that you want to see it again – that flush on his cheeks, those lips twisting into an apologetic grimace. You make yourself come twice just thinking about it.

Soon the air gets hotter, wetter, and you wear less clothes around the apartment. Open the curtains earlier, close them later, hoping that he’ll look in. That he’ll see you in your underwear again, or less.

In early July your AC breaks and you resign yourself to lounging in nothing but your littlest underwear most evenings. Thin strips of cotton that only just cover the seam of your cunt, the crease between your ass cheeks. Breasts bare, skin shimmering with sweat – all of it exposed to the warm lamplight of your apartment for your stranger to see as you prance through your space.

One weekend, after darkness has shrouded the street, you text an old flame. Some guy whose name starts with J and you’ve slept together a handful of times, and always regretted it afterwards. You lay him out on your thin mattress and spread your thighs over his waist, eyes darting upward as he slips inside of you. He notices your stare out the window, mistakes the look in your eyes for nervousness, says someone might see us, and you assure him that no one lives there. You wedge it open, feel the summer breeze whisper against your skin, and he says, someone might hear us, and you assure him that they won’t.

You grip his shoulder and rock your hips against his, breasts bouncing with every rise and fall of your body, and your stranger pauses at his window. Head tilting to the side, he peers across the alleyway, and you see the way his body jolts. Shoulders stiffening, eyes meeting yours, he doesn’t look away. Drags the hat off his head and stares.

Eyelids fluttering, you stare at the hard line of his jaw. That expressionless face stares back at you, and you moan when he crosses his arms, biceps pulling taught across his chest, and leans against the wall beside his window. You wonder if he can hear you; hope that he can. Whimper a name that starts with J while your mind calls out to your stranger. A hand lands on your breast, too soft, too gentle for your liking, and then he’s turning you over. Pushing you onto your stomach, pulling your hips back into his, and when you look up, your stranger has fled the scene and turned out the light.

Four days later, you see him for the first time without a pane of glass between you. It’s late, uncharacteristically cool for mid-summer, and you’re tipsy off vodka lime sodas wearing a skirt that leaves little of your legs to the imagination. Your fingers struggle against the keypad, trying to get inside of your building, and you hear laughter down the street. A couple sets of heavy footsteps that get closer with every second.

When you glance over your shoulder, a sort of nervous anticipation bubbles in your stomach.

He's with the blondes again. One of them has an arm wrapped around his neck, hand on the brim of his cap, threatening to pull it off. The other stumbles along a few steps behind, chuckling under his breath.

Your breaths are coming short and sharp as you jab a finger against the keypad. Five, seven, nine—

You hear something clatter against the concrete path. A phone, maybe. And then—

“Told you not to drink so much, Benny,” a low voice teases, so close now, and something goes tight at the base of your spine.

You can’t help yourself. You have to look, you have to.

It’s fleeting, a passing glance over your right shoulder, but your eyes lock with his instantly. Your stranger, in the flesh.

His pace slows a little, dark brown eyes rounding out as he stares at you. Head turning, turning, looking back now to keep an eye on you even as he comes to a stop outside of his building. Movement catches your attention, and you look back to see the drunk one—Benny—moving to follow them. He meets your eye and flashes a quick wink at you.

“Benny,” your stranger snaps. A shiver races down your spine. His voice. “C’mon.”

“Alright, alright,” Benny mutters, jogging now, following the other two men inside.

You take a deep breath, hands shaking as you press five, seven, nine, four and head into your own building.

The blondes stay for a few hours. Sounds of a sporting match blare from a TV and drift out the window, sneaking into your apartment. You drink a cold glass of water, and then another, shower and then tuck yourself into bed naked. Another hour passes, and the cool front that plagued the city for the day slips away, allowing that familiar humidity to attack your senses once more. You kick your sheets to the end of the bed, restless, and strain your ears to listen. Television off, no more Benny now. The neon numbers on your alarm clock blink, telling you that it’s just past midnight.

Carefully, you sit up in bed. Turn a little to see if he’s there. And he is, of course, he is.

Your stranger is shirtless, stood a few metres away from the window, clad in a pair of loose black shorts. Dark hair a mess on the top of his head, and it’s curly. Gorgeous little tufts of wavy hair that cascade around his ears and—you’re salivating at the sight of him.

He steps closer to the window, and then closer again. His shoulders are wide, arms long and strong. But his middle is soft, and you watch as he rests a broad palm across it. Shy, maybe. Hiding from you, maybe. You wish he wouldn’t.

So you rise up, perch on your heels and expose your bare chest to him. You think you can see him swallow, think you can see his hand twitch against that gorgeous stomach. And then you raise a hand and graze one of your nipples, slow. Feel it harden beneath your touch, pinch it between your thumb and index fingers as he watches. And when that hand on his stomach lowers, disappearing beneath the band of his shorts, you feel nothing but relief.

Please, you whisper, begging him. Please, please, please.

Your free hand slips beneath your pillow and grips your vibrator, hot pink and long. Never taking your eyes away from his, you press the on button and glide it between your thighs. Jolt when the tip of it presses between your slick folds, clit twitching beneath silicone.

His face is flushed again, jaw clenched tight as he steps as close to the window as he can possibly get. He’s shaking his head, chest rising and falling faster now. You notch the toy at your entrance and press it inside, mouth falling open at the stretch, and you wish it were him, wish you knew how it felt to be touched by him. Endlessly, painfully needy for him.

Bathed in soft yellow lamplight, the muscle in his bicep strains. It makes his skin look waxy and warm and you wish you were there. Want to know what he sees in you when he peers through your window; if you look as angelic as he does.

His elbow shifts, jaw titling upward as his chest heaves, gaze unwavering. The base of the window hides everything below his waistline from view, but this is enough. It’s enough to see the soft swell of his stomach, the dark smattering of hair across his pecs, the tension in his right shoulder as he touches himself.

You come with a groan, face a twisted mess of pleasure and agony and please, please, please, and you think you can hear him moan in response. Think he must be able to tell, because his left hand brackets against the top of the window, bracing himself, and he works his cock harder, faster. Arm shifting in rapid movements as he fucks his hand, dark eyes trained on your softening face. And when he finishes, hair sweaty and stuck to his forehead, mouth ajar, you whimper, desperate to know how it tastes. You imagine that salty slick on your lips, your tongue. Imagine swallowing it down and making it yours.

And a few days later, you do exactly that.

You walk home from a late dinner and the cool evening draft is kind against your skin. It plays with the hem of your sundress, flicking it up to expose the tops of your thighs. When you reach your building, you text you friend home safe, and tuck your phone back inside your purse. You’ve only made it halfway up the path to the complex when you see him, walking towards you from the other end of the street. He reaches his building before he notices you, and you watch him consider the door for a moment. Weigh up his options. And it feels like minutes, like an eternity, although it’s only a few seconds, before he continues walking, feet light as he makes his way towards you.

Five, seven, nine, four, you push open the heavy door and step inside. Hold it open for him to follow.

He does so silently. Doesn’t say a word as he steps inside and glances around, as you make your way toward the stairs. Doesn’t comment on the out of order sign on the elevator, and doesn’t complain as he trails behind you up five flights of stairs. And with every step, you feel your stomach tightening. Feel liquid heat coiling between your thighs; that hot, wet desire that has been so so patient with the two of you.

Your stranger only ever lets himself fall a few paces behind, and as you grace the landing of the fifth floor, you feel fingertips graze the hem of your dress. A whisper of a touch; the tips of his fingers brush against the back your thigh for a split second, and disappear just as fast.

You rifle through your purse for the key, slot it inside the hole, and then he’s there. Hot chest against your back, a hand on your waist, nudging you inside. Finally.

A rough exhale pours from you as he presses your back against the closed door, and your stranger’s mouth is there to swallow it.

Warm, plump lips mould against yours, and you moan in relief. Knock his hat to the ground, fingers tangling in those dark curls, holding him against you.

Face to face, at last.

Everything is sticky and hot in your apartment, and you feel a sheen of sweat form across your chest, your stomach. The thin fabric of your dress clings to your skin and you sigh as his hands grip your hip, your thigh, hitching one of your knees around his waist. You haven’t even turned on the light, you want to see him up close, want to see everythi—

The zipper on his jeans scratches at your inner thigh, and when the thick weight of his cock presses against your cunt, you both let out a ragged moan.

“You want this?” he breathes into your mouth, voice a low rasp. The way his moustache tickles the skin of your face makes you throb.

“Yes,” you gasp, inhaling his scent as your tongue presses inside of his mouth. You taste behind his teeth, feel them bite and suck at your lips as he grinds into you. His clothed cock presses your soaked underwear between the crease of your cunt, material rubbing perfectly against your clit. “Ohh, I need you to fuck me.”

“Shit,” he growls, damp forehead heavy against yours. “So fucking pretty.”

He pulls back a fraction, rucking up the front of your dress in his fist and holding it against your stomach.

“You wear this for me?” he asks, eyes devouring every inch of exposed skin, every slip of material still covering your body.

“Yes,” you whimper again, mouth falling open as he nips at your neck, your collarbone. His free hand slips between your bodies, nudging your panties to the side, and then a thick finger glides through the slick spread of your cunt. He sighs against your skin, fingers rubbing messily against your clit until you’re keening, arching your chest into his.

“You’re so wet,” he marvels quietly. “Wanted this cock for so long, hmm?”

“It’s all I think about,” you confess, and the words burn as they leave your mouth. A dirty little secret that you’ve never even voiced out loud to yourself.

“And what about him?” he urges as a thick finger nudges its way inside of you. “Huh? You want him like this too?”

You gasp, eyes pinching closed. You can feel the ridges of his knuckles as he presses deeper, squeezing another finger inside. Curling them against the softest spot within you, stretching you out for him.

“Who?”

“That fuckin’ guy,” he grunts against the hinge of your jaw. The memory swims in your vision; Josh or Jeremy or Jacob or whatever his name is fucking you while you looked for him.

“He’s no one,” you moan, hips bucking against his hand. “Just—fuck—needed to see if you’d look, I wanted you to look.”

He laughs, low and breathy against your neck, craning back to stare at your face while he fucks you with his fingers.

“You want me that bad?” he murmurs, gaze heavy. A sharp pink tongue sneaks out to wet his lips and you whimper, eyes zeroing in on his mouth.

“Want you,” you nod slowly, tilting your chin up to kiss him again. He coaxes your jaw open wider, and his kiss is desperate, fast, a clashing clicking mess of tongues and teeth and spit.

His fingers pull away from your soft clutch and you whine into his mouth, only abated by the sound of his zipper coming undone, of his jeans hitting the floor. Your fingers fumble with buttons of your dress, but he stops you on the third one with a hushed whisper of leave it on, of you look so good like this.

His cock slips between your folds, and he grinds the thick length of it against you. The thick, drooling head bumps your clit, and you cry out.

“Oh my god,” you mumble, and it’s so hot in here, so much all of a sudden, and you’re dizzy. Head a spinning blur, body nothing but a trembling wet mess beneath his palms.

“S’Frankie,” he says then, notching the tip at your dripping entrance.

“What?” you murmur, eyes flashing open as he begins to press inside. It’s a stinging burn as you stretch around him, and your leg tightens around his hip, desperate to have him closer, deeper, after so much waiting.

“My name,” he pants, eyes wide and searching, forehead knocking against yours again. His nose brushes against yours, so soft. “Frankie.”

“Frankie,” you repeat, and it feels so right in your mouth. Something in his expression crumples at the sound of it, and he pushes in all the way to the hilt. You gasp, a wet, rough sound, jaw swinging loose as he settles inside of you.

“Fuck,” you cry out, head falling back against the door. “You’re so much bigger than I—”

“Hmm?” he noses at your jaw, pulling back a little just to press in deeper, gripping your hips, your panties hooked around his thumb. “You can take it, pretty girl. Thought this was what you wanted?”

A hand falls to grip the flesh of your ass and then he’s lifting you off your feet entirely, clutching you to his chest. You grip his shoulders desperately, both legs locked in a vice around his waist now, and all you can do is steel yourself when he finally begins to fuck you.

It’s fast and loud and wet. He holds you against his chest, strong hands lifting you up and down on his cock relentlessly. With every stroke his tip glides against your g-spot, and soon enough you’re a stuttering mess, vision blurring as your body goes loose and pliant in his grasp.

“Feel so good,” he groans, hiding his face in your neck. “Been fucking waiting for this, you have no idea.”

“Frankie—”

“Thought about it every night,” he grunts, teeth snagging on your earlobe. “I’d fuck myself thinking about how’d you’d taste, how soft your skin would be. Fuck.”

You grip the back of his neck and bring his mouth to yours, but you can’t even bring yourself to kiss him. Just two open mouths, breathing each other in. Twist your fingers through the curls at his nape and tug, and you think you must be saying please, please, just like the first time he made you come, because he fucks you harder. Pushes you against the wall and pistons into you, unforgiving, hitting something inside of you that no one ever has before.

“Oh, oh,” you gasp, eyes widening as you feel that familiar tingle in your spine. Your toes curl against his skin, desperately seeking purchase, something to ground you as you hover over the edge. It’s so close now, suddenly right within your reach, and you grind yourself against his pelvis, meeting him thrust for devastating thrust.

“Say my name again,” he rasps then, and you do, over and over again. “Wanna hear it when I make you come, please.”

Frankie, Frankie, Frankie, you moan it into his skin, his mouth, your fingernails carve the word into the flesh of his shoulder.

It spurs him on, and he is unrelenting, giving you everything he has, every wet shift of his cock inside of you punching the air from your lungs until you pull hot and tight around him, cunt pulsing, sucking him in deeper as you come. Body shivering and jerking, you’re trapped between his large frame and the unforgiving wood of your door, nothing to do except writhe and gasp and take it as he keeps fucking you.

You can hear him grunting under his breath. Hot against your neck, licking the words es perfecto into your skin. And you wish you could understand, wish you could say something back, but the only word you know anymore is Frankie.

“You wanna taste it?” he grunts, and yes, you cry, yesyesyesgodyes.

He pulls out and you drop to your knees with a thud, drooling tongue slipping past your lips just in time to catch the hot, heady spurts of his come.

Frankie presses the tip of his cock inside your mouth and when you close your lips around it, he lets out a drawn-out groan. You hollow out your cheeks and chase down every bit of himself that he has to give to you. Slip your hand beneath his shirt, lay it over his stomach, that gorgeous stomach, and feel it rise and fall beneath your fingers. His come pools on your tongue and dribbles down your throat; hot and salty and bitter, but better than you could’ve ever imagined.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so good for me.” Strong hands cradle your face, thumbs digging into your skin as his hips buck forward once, twice more, finally emptying the last of himself onto your tongue. “Can't believe this."

And only when you’ve swallowed every last drop do you let his cock slip from the warmth of your mouth. Gasping for breath, already missing him, you look up with wet. He brushes hair off of your face.

“You good?” he asks softly, cupping your jaw in his palm.

“Yeah,” you murmur, nuzzling into his hand. “I’m good.”

Slowly, Frankie helps you up from the ground, hand on your elbow to steady you, and then looks around your apartment.

He’s quiet for a moment, still breathing heavy, hand slipping around your waist, and his eyebrows drift down into a small frown as he gazes at your home for the first time.

“Jesus,” he finally speaks. “This place is fucking tiny.”

a/n: okay but do you have a naked window neighbour or are YOU the naked window neighbour? i've always been the latter, oops, anwyays thanks for reading!

#happy frankie friday to all who celebrate #me: hates having a man's come in my mouth #me writing it: ooh la la! yum mmm delicioso best meal i ever had thank you sir it's utterly delightful can i please have some more sir #like im a fucking person in the olden days begging for another bowl of gruel #my brain's suspension of disbelief goes crazy when writing fic i swear #my writing #fic: vis-a-vis #frankie morales one shot #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader

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sopxhiea · 3 years

Text

Rules

Alfie Solomons X Friends with Benefits!Reader

Summary: She’s known as a dancer in a high end club but he’s known her for not so long. She decides the rules, he goes along with them but sometimes, he’s the one making the rules.

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

It’s late.

Late enough to hear the dogs howling in the groggy streets of London as the black sky decorated the horizon. The room was quiet, only the sound of breathing filling the hollow walls of the apartment. The silence wasn’t unusual and it was more than welcomed. The owner wasn’t home, a familiar body was standing in the spacious entrance.

You weren’t home yet.

Feeling the soft material of the lacy undergarment residing around your upper thighs, you looked around to see who was still in the club. It was close to the weekend which meant that it was getting busier than usual. Men were mostly drunk or intoxicated by the movements of the ladies around. There was no one to entertain in the club anymore so you moved towards the interior rooms to get ready to leave.

The space was decorated with mirrors, make up clutter right in front of them as some of the girls packed the last of their garments to leave. The sun would approach soon, sunlight beaming through the groggy city but you hoped to make it home before then. Slowly gathering your stuff and stuffing them all in your bag, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

The club wasn’t the usual, much like you.

It was a place for rich lads, some aristocracy and the kind of men that had to be served in private rooms because of how high they were up in the pyramid scheme. Most of the work you did was talking, some dancing here and there and you were done. Nothing ever got physical since it wasn’t a brothel, but a place for fine entertainment.

The make-up was off, your natural skin color glowing under the countless bulbs that decorated the mirror. The club was mostly empty now, car sounds no longer audible. It was dead silent outside, the hour when the city would be asleep and you’d walk home on your own. It was a treat to say the least.

The cold weather attacked your skin a bit too quickly as you made your way down the street. Your flat wasn’t too far from the club, just perfect distance for a night walk. It was dangerous in the streets, especially for a lady like yourself but you had a gun hidden in your bag and a long needle that held your bun together and you knew your way around both of those tools.

The night seemed quiet as you walked, no sounds of chatter but a few drunken lads from a couple blocks away. You hugged your coat a little tighter and realized that you were less tired than usual.

-----

The inside of the house was quiet, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looked through the corridor. Your dresses were on the floor, a couple mugs here and there sitting on the piles of books. He saw a nightgown and your knickers on the floor and decided that you had gone to the club a little later than usual. As far as he was concerned, everything was normal.

The sound of keys jiggling outside the door made him turn towards the entrance and before he knew it, you pushed the door open with a gun in your hand that was pointed at him. Your breathing was even and the gun in your hand didn’t shake in the slightest.

He greeted you with a smile.

You lowered the gun down in a swift motion when you realized who it was. He was wearing his usual smile, broad as he walked towards you with dense eyes. He was wearing the usual attire but his prayer shawl was missing and you realized it was past saturday.

There he was, the handsome stranger.

He wasn’t so much of a stranger really, not since he’d made you chant his name until the sun was down and you had to go to work. He knew the way your body responded, what you liked in the bedroom and just how to kiss you to make you beg.

He didn’t know anything about your family, where you’d spent your childhood or the way you’d silently pray each time you saw a shadow. Alfie didn’t know what meals you cooked, how you liked your tea or anything past your occupation and name and where you lived.

He didn’t need to.

And he wasn’t allowed to.

“What the fuck happened to sayin’ ‘ello, pet?” he said with an amused face that you didn’t mirror. You were still a bit tired from work and he never came over afterhours.

Those were the rules.

He was allowed to come anytime before your work and never after you’d just arrived home. He would usually call before and let you know. He wasn’t allowed to buy you things or take you out, even though he’d stayed over a couple times before. You knew limited information and about him and he the same, and he wasn’t allowed to break any of the rules.

“Sorry. I’m just a little..” you spoke with a soft tone and he could hear the tiredness seeping from your limbs as he took a look at you.

You looked tired but beautiful nevertheless.

Your figure was a bit slumped, the kind of tiredness that came from working too hard and not because he was the one tiring you out. You weren’t wearing any make-up or fancy clothes, it was his favorite version of you. He didn’t like all the make-up you had to wear for the club or the fancy lingerie but he had no say in any of the things you did. You had made that painfully clear for him.

“Ya’ alright?” he asked while walking towards you, voice a little concerned at your state but you were a bit too tired to care.

And you wanted to hug him, really badly.

Alfie was very rough around the edges, far too rude at first sight for any lady but it would take a split second to realize that he wasn’t rude at all, that was just the way he was. He brushed shoulders with gangsters, people of the underworld who had to do dirty things to get food on their table. He had blood in his hands and for a man of his kind, he was a gentle one.

You immediately leaned a bit closer when his hand came into contact with your shoulder.

“Fine.” you nodded, little bits of your hair framing your face and Alfie leaned in even closer, standing right in front of you with his hand on your hip.

“Do you want anythi-” you started speaking in a softer voice than normal and Alfie felt himself melt a little but his eyes didn’t leave yours.

“Nah,’m fine, pet.” he said, in a low whisper. He was very gentle at that moment, almost like in a daze.

He had met you in a very unusual way.

You had crashed into him, face on his chest one day when you were out buying groceries. The flowers in your hand were crushed when you bumped into him and he had no time to apologize before you’d started screaming at him for being so careless. He’d listened you shout while thinking about how lovely you were and then asked you out for tea that very same day.

You had said yes and then somehow ended up on his bed. You’d left without saying goodbye but then bumped into him a couple weeks later. He had talked charmingly the whole time and then it happened again, again and then once more before you established some rules so that he didn’t think this was more than a stress relief situation.

“What are you-” you started talking again with his face closer to yours but he interrupted you soon, speaking softly against your irritated face.

“I had a fuckin’ job, right, jus’ around the fuckin’ corner so I figured..” he spoke but trailed off with a smile and you finished it for him.

“So you figured you’d have a quick fuck-” your smile was less evident as you looked at him while speaking.

“A visit, lass. A fuckin’ visit is what ‘m here for, innit.” he said, interrupting you once more and he saw your blood boil which only aroused him.

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” your voice was stern as you looked up at the man. He was twice your size yet you did all the ordering around.

He didn’t mind.

He had been with his share of women, mostly in brothels but he’d usually leave out that part. He loved women, that was a given but he had never grown fond of one before. You had seem like the polar opposite of him when you’d first met and all that did was to draw him even further. He didn’t like the warmth that spread through his chest when he saw you, it made him feel young and defenseless again.

“Sorry, pet.” he said, face even closer to yours now. You knew what he was here for but it didn’t fit the rules, you had no problem sending him home.

“You came here for what?” you spoke against his lips, not kissing him just yet but simply teasing. He was a sucker for that.

He smiled when your fingers caressed his cheek and your lips almost touched his. He wasn’t here for a fuck this time, he had simply dropped off. He had business around the corner with a butcher’s shop that was causing him some trouble and realized that you’d be home soon.

He also wanted to ask you a question but that would come later.

“To see ya’.” he said, simple as that while your lips ghosted over his. Your eyes were locked into his and he didn’t seem to be lying from the way his face relaxed.

“Hm.” you said, humming before you leaned closer to plan your lips on his.

The kiss was slow, not the usual teeth against teeth you had with him. His hands were on your waist while yours resided on his chest and cheek. He was savoring the moment since this was rare with you, very rare. You wanted some relief on most days and that’s when you’d see him, not when you wanted a hug or a small chat.

But you weren’t complaining in the slightest.

You broke the kiss, a bit hesitant at first while staring at his lips. He was searching for your eyes when you parted but you wouldn’t look with the fear of him catching something in there. You slowly walked away from him, taking your long coat off and throwing it on the sofa. The house was a mess but that was the usual. All you and Alfie did was fuck anyway so the only place he would be concerned with was the bed.

You sat down on the chair in the corner of the room and looked at him, standing near the entrance with his broad form. He was here for something, you could tell but he wasn’t so keen on giving it to you. It wasn’t like you were dying to know but Alfie was not someone who’d usually ask for anything, let alone anything from you.

All he would ask was a fuck and that was the arrangement.

“You’re gonna talk?” you said, watching as he made his way to the corner you were sitting on and sat on the sofa next to you.

He didn’t speak for a while. His hand tugged at his beard while he looked at you, lost in thought. He wasn’t really looking at you but through you, which was unusual considering he was one of the first people to ever see you for who you were. You didn’t like to think about it, he was good in bed and that’s all you were concerned with.

“Ya’ hear what’s goin’ on in these fuckin’ streets?” he asked, head motioning outside for a split second before he directed all his attention to you again.

Your eyebrows furrowed and you spoke, not a care in the world as he looked at you. “Seeing as I arrive home at this hour, no.” you said, eyes searching for his for a second before finding them.

He seemed uneasy.

“There is a fuckin’ war, yeah, a dangerous one, lass and it ain’t gonna look pretty for ya’ when they realize ya’ fuckin’ know me.” he said, measuring each and every word.

You didn’t know why he cared.

In your eyes, you were just a woman he fucked. There were no strings, no seeing each other romantically or any kind of involvement. You weren’t his, not by any means and he wasn’t yours. You’d speak to him if you saw him outside but there was no other involvement other than being with each other for stress relief. For all you knew, he was still making regular visits to the brothel.

But he wasn’t.

He had stopped right after he had first met you. He still had his needs but you were more than capable of taking care of him if he were to knock on your door. He knew the rules, was very well aware of the lines you’d drawn for him but he’d still protect you. Not because you were his fuckbuddy but because he genuinely cared about your wellbeing, even if that wasn’t allowed.

You smiled at him at first, almost felt like he was mocking you. Why did he care? You tilted your head to the side and spoke with an amused voice as he looked at you with concern in his eyes, not something you were used to seeing. He still listened as you spoke. “Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

He shook his head with an amused chuckle. You really had no idea. The Italians didn’t know of you yet but if they followed Alfie enough times, they could easily make out the equation. He looked at your still form for a moment and spoke, saying what he’d been wanting to say since he arrived and you saw the weight being lifted off his shoulders.

“I can fuckin’ protect ya’, pet, if ya’ come live near me, that is.” he said, word by word and he saw your face change.

It was absurd.

“No.” you said, not even taking a minute to think about it as you looked at him. Before he said anything else, you spoke up again with a shaking head. You were still seated, less angry than he’d expect you to be. “I can’t move away from work and I don’t even know how to find another apartment at this time.” you spoke, voicing all your concerns.

He was a gangster and knew the ropes better than you so you opted on trusting him. If it turned out to be a mistake, you would blame it all on him but you didn’t want to get killed because you’d been fucking some bloke. Except that he wasn’t some bloke and he had his own gang.

“I got that figured ou’, I did, yeah.” he spoke to you while leaning back on the sofa. You looked at him with a curious expression. He was amused at it for a second before speaking up again, hand tugging at his beard. “I got ya’ a fuckin’ place of yer own, near where I fuckin’ live, pet...” he said and watched your eyes burn.

Who did he think he was?

The rules were clear and your blood was boiling because this man was breaking every one of them. He wouldn’t care if you were dead, you had thought but the more he spoke, the more you changed your mind. He had already taken care of everything without even asking you and he heard you scoff while his words still filled your ear.

“I’ll have one of the lads to fuckin’ drive you..” he said, done with what he was saying and you snapped back immediately.

“You’ll have someone drive me in the evening and pick me up at 4 in the morning from a gentlemen’s club?” you spoke, eyes stern as they bore into his.

He just nodded.

You scoffed once more and got up, hand on your hip as you paced through the room. He just watched. He could see the questions forming as you looked at him every now and then as you paced. There was a look of panic in your eyes as you walked through the corridors and realized that he was probably right at having you move, you could easily be killed. Even if you weren’t seeing him, it was common for someone to be killed just because they were living in a dangerous area.

“Will they kill me?” you said, and spoke once more before he could answer. “If I don’t move, I mean..... Will I die?” you said, eyes wide with confusion and panic.

So he spoke up almost immediately, not liking your frantic eyes as he was used to seeing your calm features after a good fuck. “I won’t have that fuckin’ happen-”

“But If I refuse to move?” you said, waiting for him to properly answer the question with hand on your hip. He knew you were measuring all the possibilities.

“I ain’t gonna lie to ya’, pet, ‘s very possible, it ‘s.” he said while looking at you. He was still sitting in front of you.

He watched you nod.

This didn’t change anything in your eyes. It wouldn’t mean that you were dependent on him or that he would have any power over you. You’d just be protected and the chances of you getting killed because of him would decrease. You measured it all in your mind and realized that it was probably for the best.

“Fine.”

------

His movements were fast, feral almost as his skin came into contact with yours every other second. The bed creaked, not too loud while your panting filled the room. Hands holding onto him by the shoulders, you let out a shaky exhale when he adjusted the angle. His hair was messy as it fell on his forehead, moving each time he thrusted into you.

“Fuck.” you whispered against his lips when he started moving faster, hand on his back and neck while his remained on your waist.

He groaned against your neck with each movement, holding your legs up on his knees in the process. A thin layer of sweat was apparent on your skin even though it was freezing outside. You watched him lift his head, facial expression covered in bliss while the morning light hit his face.

It had been a week since you’d moved into the apartment and 4 of those days had been spent with you and him testing the new bed. You had gotten a new one for yourself and he’d joked about how you’d have to break into it so that it was comfortable and you had given him one look and there you were, four days later with your legs wrapped around him.

Your back arched off the bed the faster he became and he was soon becoming erratic, gasping for air and you felt your body slowly tense and give in. Your hands dug into his back as he moved, reaching his climax soon after. He stayed like that for a while while you regained your breath, feeling your body grow tired with each passing hour. You swallowed as he slid out of you and collapsed next to you on the bed.

The rules were still in place.

You stared at the ceiling while he stared at you while laying on his stomach next to you. Your hair was messy, the tie no longer holding it together and tangles here and there. He watched your heaving chest, breath a little lost as you locked your lips.

And then you turned to him.

His eyes had already been on you but you hadn’t realized. He was staring, not gawking but looking with some sort of softness in his gaze. You didn’t smile as you inspected him and the way he was looking at you. You didn’t do the same to him, feeling yourself grow a bit too uneasy at the feeling of being watched.

And if you looked for too long, you were afraid you’d get lost.

Slowly lifting your body off of the mattress and sitting next to him, you came to realize that most of your lower body had gotten sore in between days of tidying and arranging the new flat and Alfie not wasting a second to get you alone so that he could spend the rest of the day tiring you out even further.

He watched your hair fall across your back when you got up, messy from the events that had just taken place. You were not wearing anything so you grabbed your cardigan and wrapped it around your body when you got up. The whole time, he just watched as you moved around your new space.

It already felt like home.

He’d spent most of the days either helping you out or making sure that the lads didn’t damage any of the furniture or simply making you pant on the bed. It had been wonderful if he was honest, he wasn’t as angry and there was no feeling of uneasiness in his chest. He still saw dangerous man from day to day but knowing that you’d be home before you left for work, telling the lads how to put the sofa made him feel look forward to the time he’d get to see you.

He didn’t think much of it, or so he convinced himself that he didn’t.

“Alfie.” you said, you had been speaking to him but he was in his head so he hadn’t heard.

“Huh, what, luv?” he said, lifting himself off of the mattress and sitting on the soft material instead.

“You want tea?” you said, licking your lips while standing next to the door’s frame with nothing but a cardigan on.

“Hm.” he said, nodding as he got up to put his pants on. He didn’t dress himself any further even though it was cold outside, he felt warm after laying on the bed with you.

He walked towards the kitchen to see you waiting for the water to boil. You looked at him when he appeared on the door and you gave him a gentle smile which he returned with a warmer heart. He walked next to you while you poured the water in the tea cups and his hand met your hip, squeezing gently.

This was not something you usually did.

In the last week, the lines had become blurred. It was hard to tell what he was to you. He had found you an apartment and had even picked you up in the morning when you were done. You had joked around with him during the ride and he’d even made jokes to make you smile, he had succeeded, too.

You shuddered a little when his lips met the space between your ear. He knew your body like the back of his hand, no matter how much you’d want to deny it. You kept your eyes on the water that was pouring out to the cups but his lips had your attention.

“Alfie, I’m gonna burn myself.” you said, in a breathy voice and he stopped with a smile. You didn’t even see his lips soften but you knew he was smiling.

After putting the tray on the table that resided in the middle of the living room, you sat on the soft chair you had brought from your previous place. He sat on the sofa on the opposite corner while waiting for the tea to cool down. He wanted to say something, it was hanging at the back of his mouth but he couldn’t get the words to come out.

And you so took it upon yourself to make him.

“If you wanna say something, just say it.” you said, almost a whisper but he had heard since the rooms were silent. You wore an annoyed expression that he often saw but it only amused him further.

He wanted to ask you if you’d work today and he already knew the answer.

He didn’t like it, the sticky feeling in his stomach each time you would go to work. He had no say in what you did, either for work or on the daily and he knew that but it only stirred him further. There was the fear of you getting hurt but he knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.

And then, there was the other issue that wouldn’t leave his mind.

Other men got to see you in fancy lingerie, things that didn’t cover you up all the way and it made him mad. He didn’t quite know why, just that he was annoyed with the whole thing. He wouldn’t say it but you’d see the relief on his face when you’d be back from work or when he’d come to pick you up. He had been fucking you a little more carefully lately, ever since you’d moved in closer to him. He was almost tender, painfully soft with you when you’d let him show you a good time. It wasn’t the animalistic, rough Alfie you were used to but there was complaint, only curiosity.

He didn’t speak, just hand tugging at his beard and you knew he’d wait until the day was over and you’d be back from work to see him still in the same position. “You’ve been in me, Alfie, I won’t get mad.” you spoke, almost sensing the reason for his hesitation and his eyes locked into yours when you were done speaking.

He figured he’d trust your word.

“Yer goin’ to work?” he asked and saw your features change.

You knew why he was asking but that didn’t change anything.

You had a vague idea as to why he had been more gentle with you lately, why he kissed you deeper than usual and why he insisted on giving you hickeys even though you’d told him not to on numerous occasions. He was more touchy, almost always around with the excuse of ‘making sure you were settled in’. You were just a girl but you weren’t stupid.

And this wasn’t something you could allow.

Men got jealous, they got protective and thought they had some sort of power over you the moment you’d become ‘ their girl’. You hated that anyway, being someone’s girl and knowing how dangerous Alfie’s line of business could be, you didn’t see sense in pursuing the possibility of anything happening with the man. You shook your head and he watched you lick your lips before you spoke.

“Yes, I am.” you said nonchalantly, as if you were trying to tell him that no matter how much he’d ask, you still wouldn’t want it. “You don’t need to pick me up.” you said, expressionless as he looked at your standing yet somehow small form. You hugged the cardigan tighter as he spoke, he watched you put some things into space. Things he’d knocked out of its place when he had been feverishly kissing you.

“I fuckin’ will, though.” he said, eyes stern as he looked at your face. You were a little taken aback but no evident sign of surprise.

“You don’t have to.” you said again, agitated with his need to make sure you were alright when all you needed him for was a quick fuck.

It didn’t work like this, not with you so you wouldn’t entertain the chance of being with him.

“I want to, lass, yeah, so I fuckin’ will.” he said one last time before getting up to walk towards you.

He would be jealous, you told yourself. He wouldn’t like the fact that other people were able to see you in such little clothing, you thought and he certainly wouldn’t appreciate the little dances you would give. Sure, he was a good fuck but he was also a cruel gangster and the balance seemed almost even.

Almost.

You walked away the moment his breath his your face and made your way to the bedroom to tidy up. There were clothes on the floor and books everywhere, you grabbed one and put it on the shelf and he was right behind you when you turned back.

“Alfie, move.” you said, not able to penetrate through his large form as he blocked your way.

“Tell me.” he said, finger under your chin as he lifted your face so you were looking at him.

“Tell you what?”

“Why?” his voice was a whisper as he looked at your small form, chin still between his fingers as his eyes bored into yours.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the question as he looked at your face, Why what? you thought. The question had so many ways of ending and yet, only one question popped into your mind.

Why were you still going to work? Why, when he was the one keeping your bed warm?

You didn’t answer, you didn’t know if there was an answer. It would not work, he would be a jealous man, jealous of the other ones that got to see you in work and it would get unbearable like it always would with any relationship you had. You didn’t say anything and walked away, he just watched.

He left soon after that, not a word or a forehead kiss like he’d usually give you. He wasn’t hurt or broken by anything, he was just waiting for you to make up your mind. The words had stirred something in you, he had seen that when you had looked at him. He just needed an answer now.

Laying on the bed as you watched the street lights dance on the ceiling, you realized you had the answer.

But it would put you in a lot of danger.

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @vetseras @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

A/n: Hi!! This was something that had been in drafts for a while now so i wanted to post it at last. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know if you’d like another chapter!!

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heliotropehotch · 3 years

Text

distance - s.r. x gn!reader

Summary: idiots in love realize the truth after a bad date and some snooping through personal journals.

a/n: it's been a hot minute since I created any Spencer content so here you go! Thanks to all of you for your support on my first Aaron smut!!! Please leave any feedback or requests in my inbox I just love interacting with you guys<3

CW: jealous, unwanted sexual advances (just comments and words, a little bit of groping) idiots in love, snooping through journals, adorable fluff

Masterlist

author: author

words: 1589

happy reading!

The date was a complete bust. While they had really tried to enjoy it, it wasn’t like Y/N could ignore their rude tone, entitled attitude, and blatant disrespect for their boundaries. The guy had already tried to grope them three different times before they even got to the restaurant.

As their date progresses, John’s, or was it Jim, advances got more aggressive, making it clear to them that he only wanted one thing.

“Why don’t we just pay now and head back to my place?” His smirk curled unsettling across his face.

Y/N cleared their throat, fingers curling around the ends of their shirt in brace of the conversation. “I’m not sure I feel comfortable with that.”

His brows furrowed, smirk quickly dropping. “Not comfortable? Ugh, I know you’d be uptight.”

“Excuse me?”

“I agreed to go on this boring ass date, the least I can get is laid. But now you’re a fucking prude, after all this. I’m leaving.” He threw his napkin on the table before pushing his chair back loudly and brushing past the table.

For a minute, Y/N sat there shocked, staring blankly at the now empty seat across from them. They looked around, making sure that their date’s little explosion hadn’t drawn the attention of the neighboring tables. A shaky sigh left their mouth, pulling cash from their wallet and leaving well enough for both meals.

Spencer wouldn’t do this, they thought. Pain coursed through them, knowing he was the reason they agreed to this date in the first place. Spencer would be kind.

They reached for their phone, turning their car on and pulling out to get as far away from that place as possible.

“Hello?” His voice echoed through the speaker of the phone.

“Spence,” their voice was soft and saddened. “Can I come over? Please?”

“I thought you were on a date.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but wasn’t sure how well he was doing it.”

Their voice was heavy, trembling with tears caught in their throat. “He just wanted to get laid, Spence. Stormed out when I said no.”

Spencer Reid swore that he had never felt more anger than he had then. “He did what?”

“Can I just come over, please? I- I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Of course, Y/N/N,” he sighed, heart rate increasing with a new kind of panic. “Do you need me to come get you?”

“No, I’ve got my car, I’ll be there soon.” They sighed, indignant of the evening behind them. “Thank you, Spence.”

“Of course.”

---

When his best friend (and secret love interest) had arrived at his door with remnants of tears tracking down their cheeks, Spencer immediately felt guilty for even being angry at them for going on a date.

They pushed forward, wrapping their arms around his waist and burying their head in his chest. He squeezed them, rubbing small circles on their back between their shoulder blades. His heart clenched as he felt their lungs stutter with tears. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

He pulled them into his apartment, thumbs brushing excess tears off their cheeks before setting them on his couch. He darted off to the kitchen, pouring a cup of their tea he keeps handy before settling next to them on the worn letter.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He threw his arm over the back of the seat.

“He called me a ‘fucking prude.’” They sniffled into their mug. “Said I was a boring date.”

Spencer’s hand clenched at his side in anger. “You don’t deserve that.”

They shook their head, settling the warm mug down on the coffee table. “Maybe he’s right, Spence.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean every relationship I’ve been in just ends with me getting left behind because they’ve grown tired of me.”

“Y/N,” he took their hands in his, something he was only comfortable doing with a few people. “Those people didn’t understand how amazing you were, and couldn’t see what they were leaving behind.”

A weak smile was sent in his direction. “Come on, let’s distract you.”

The opening credits to Doctor Who were an oddly comforting sound as Y/N sunk further into Spencer’s couch and his side. Heart racing, as it always did when they cuddled (platonically), his arms tightened around them and prayed his heart wouldn’t pound enough to disturb them.

An episode, or two passed, he wasn’t really paying attention to the screen. Their breath had settled into a steady rhythm, both of their bodies shifting to lay on the couch. The soft pressure of the air leaving their mouth tickled the thin cloth of his t-shirt, lulling him into his own sleep.

The sunlight trickled through his curtains, awakening him to the presence that still laid on his chest. He shifted carefully, releasing them from his hold. He sighed peacefully, watching their undisturbed form continue to rest.

He shuffled quietly around the apartment, resuming his own morning routine as quietly as he could. He pulled his notebook out of his work bag, writing down his thoughts to un-jumble his mind as he sat at his kitchen counter. He left a sticky note on Y/N’s phone, letting them know he went to grab food before retreating quietly out of the apartment.

When Y/N woke up, they noticed their best friend’s absence immediately, frowning at the possibility they had made him uncomfortable. Their spine elongated as they stretched from the rough support of the couch, taking account of their surroundings and the note that was left for them.

They were used to spending nights at Spencer’s honestly. Too many late nights talking, too many sleepovers. They found their way to the shower, washing off last night’s emotions with an unexpected ease. However, they grabbed a t-shirt from Spencer’s closet, too tired to put on the fancy clothes they had on yesterday.

Y/N had yet to be by themself in Spencer’s apartment, always spending time with him whenever they were there. Yet now, they could properly look at his decor without fear that he would think there was judgement. The books that littered the apartment were the perfect amount of clutter, much like how Spencer’s mind usually seemed to be. Eventually, inevitably, their eyes found the journal.

They didn’t mean to snoop, not really. But having your name written on a journal would draw anyone’s curiosity. Y/N’s heart pounded as they read the words over and over again.

I don’t understand how anyone could treat Y/N the way that dick did last night. Why doesn’t anyone see their beauty like me? I want them to be happy, even if it’s not with me.

They missed the sound of the apartment door unlocking. Or Spencer opening the door and crossing the threshold.

“Hey I got your favorite-” He paused, eyes widening at the open journal he left on the counter.

“What are you doing?” Spencer rushed out in a panic as he closed the door to his apartment, stumbling onto the sight that caused his stomach to drop, and his grip to loosen on the pastry bag.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

“That’s not the point, Spence.”

“Y/N-”

“Spencer Reid, I have sat here for years, so hopelessly in love with you and I had to find out from a fucking open journal that you feel the same? How is that fair?”

Spencer took a step back in shock, with his hands falling aimlessly to his sides. “You love me?”

“I mean even when you liked JJ I just sat there quietly because I knew that she was more important to you, but I wanted to scream every time I caught you look at her. And don’t even get me started on the whole Emily thing because I love JJ but I swear I’ve never wanted to slap her more for hurting you that way because of course I care about you Spence, how could have not known that-”

And while Spencer had been in love with them, and the way they talked with their hands when they rambled, he needed nothing more than to shut them up. He smiled as he pressed his lips against theirs, their mumbled words fading into sighs as their kiss continued. His arms wrapped sweetly around their middle, enjoying the familiarity of his shirt of their body and pulling their body further into his. He pulled back when they couldn’t breathe, and rested his head against theirs. “I love you, too, by the way.”

“How could you not tell me?” They smiled, happy to be breathing the same air as him. He chuckled, squeezing them affectionately.

“How could you not tell me? Y/N I just picked you up from a date.”

“Well, it was only an attempt to move on.” They laughed softly, combing their fingers through his curly mop. “How long, Spence?”

“Hmm?” His eyes had drifted closed, too peaceful to move.

“How long have we been loving each other from a distance, Spencer? How long have we both been pining over something we could have had this whole time?”

“I’ve been in love with you since you walked through the door.”

They giggled, looking into Spencer’s eyes. “Who knew you were such a sap. I expect you to let me read everything about me in that journal.”

He laughed, squeezing them tightening against his chest and pecking the side of their forehead. “You wish.”

#spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid #mgg #idiots in love #cm #criminal minds #spencer reid x you

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wish-i-wasnt-a-coward · 3 years

Text

Everything and Nothing

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Pairings: Eventual LAMP, Demus

Warnings: Food mention, spacing out, loss of ability to read, mild negative self talk, guilt, mentions of a bully, mentions of intentional misgendering, cursing

Word Count: 1,214

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Logan was trying to read. He really was, usually, he was very good at reading and chose to do it recreationally. He could focus on the words and tune out the clutter that was the rest of the world. The book would take him to a place where his parents were proud of him, where he could sit still for longer than a minute, where Virgil was comfortable and Patton talked about his feelings. But not today.

He was stuck. The sentence just didn’t make sense, there was no way to explain it without sounding like a complete lunatic, but Logan had temporarily lost the ability to read. ‘Not the best thing to happen in the middle of AP English’ Logan thought with a sigh, bouncing his leg at a ridiculously fast pace.

With nothing better to do Logan looked around the classroom. The week's homework was up on the whiteboard. Frankenstein’s monster, the book they were reading, was written in lovely cursive (which Logan also couldn’t read) at the top. Closer to Logan, Patton sat reading. They had worked so hard to get into this class, and Logan was very proud of them.

School didn’t come easily to Patton, the way it did to Logan. But they were one of the smartest people Logan knew. They were invariably there for their friends, they knew what to say when Virgil was having an anxiety attack and knew what to do when Logan was overstimulated or having a meltdown. They understood emotions like Logan understood math. Logan would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit jealous.

Logan was so zoned out he didn’t even realize that Mr. Flores had moved to stand next to his desk until the teacher spoke.

“Hey, Logan'' the man whispered with a smile, “are you alright?” Logan looked up at him, “um, I’m having a bit of trouble reading right now, it's ok though I can just read this chapter for homework as well.” he replied with an awkward smile. “Oh don’t worry kid, I know what that's like, give me a second '' after a moment Mr. Flores returned with a small box and headphones. “Here, you can listen to the book and do the assignment at the same time instead of reading” Logan took it with wide eyes, “You know how to work these things?” Mr. Flores asked, “Uh yeah, thank you!” the young boy said, quickly sliding on the headphones.

Patton looked back at him and smiled their angelic smile. Logan involuntarily smiled back and began working on the assignment.

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By the time the class was over Logan’s head had cleared considerably. Patton, of course, had checked on him as soon as they had a moment. Logan was quick to reassure them that he was fine. Both of them thanked any god that may be up there for Mr. Flores. Knowing that without proper action Logan’s light zoning out could quickly turn into a dissociation episode.

Patton was kicking themselves for not noticing sooner. And Logan was feeling like a burden. Neither enjoyed their next two classes.

When lunch period rolled around the glasses gays were hoping that the day may improve for them. Roman had been joining the group during lunch break, and though she and Virgil weren’t yet quite as friendly as the others were, it was always nice to see him.

Logan walked through the crowded lunchroom. He let muscle memory take over as he sidestepped the popular cliques, slipping into a chair at their usual table next to Virgil. Bumping knees with the boy to alert him of Logan’s presence without scaring him.

Virgil didn’t even look up, handing Logan an earbud for the BuzzFeed Unsolved video he was watching. Logan happily accepted scooting closer to the angsty teen.

They were quite the pair. Most of the school was used to the odd friend group. But in many situations, it is not common to see a boy with purple emo bangs, baggy clothes, and heavy black makeup sitting shoulder to shoulder with an uptight nerd who wore ties to school.

But it gets even odder, as the fluffy, happy, sunshine child slides next to the emo reaching over to turn on the close captions. Along with them, one of the two new kids, the one who wore a red trench coat to school, watched over their shoulders.

Despite their oddness, they were important parts of the school’s hierarchy. Patton was the head of the cheer-leading squad and had turned the naturally misogynistic club into a safe space of sorts. Logan was the head of the debate team, this was a very popular club to watch after school. Because he would become very passionate about even the smallest subjects, and when the subjects weren’t small he was known to become violent. Which was entertaining, to say the least. Virgil was less involved than the other two, opting for running the small art program. He volunteered during his study hall and after school some days, helping the art teacher.

The new kid had very quickly established herself as an immense theater nerd and had won the heart of the chemistry teacher who ran the theater program, Mr. Sanders. The cast and crew had also quickly accepted Roman as a part of the team.

But despite the friends that the four had outside of their group, they opted for each other. If you asked Patton, they would say that it was because they were “bestest friends”, Logan would go on a rant about how they balanced each other out well, Roman would say that it was destiny that brought them together, and Virgil would mumble something about how queers always found each other.

Of course, not everyone liked this, and there were people that even Patton would punch in the face if given the chance.

\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\/

The video came to a dramatic end and Virgil let his head fall against Logan’s shoulder. Roman and Patton were teasing each other about something while eating their lunches. He could tell from the look in Logan and Pat’s eyes that it had been a tiring morning for the two of them. It had been a rough morning for him as well.

The bitchiest bitch of them all, Greg had been in both his Math and history class this year. How he got into AP math, Virgil will never know. He was a bigoted fuck and as dumb as a rock. Those two things, unsurprisingly, often went hand in hand.

He had a lovely habit of misgendering Patton and Virgil. It was difficult for Virgil to see his best friend bullied like that and was tempted to tell someone. But for the most part, he just physically and verbally harassed Virgil. Hopefully drawing attention from the others.

If L and Ro ever found out about Greg there would, without a doubt be bloodshed. The two of them could get in trouble, or hurt, or killed, and it would be all Virgil's fault. So he kept quiet about it. He had to.

Logan gently wrapped an arm around Virgil pulling him back down to earth. “Are you alright Verge?” he muttered. Virgil just nodded burying his face further into Logan’s chest. He felt Lo hum in response, continuing his lunch one-handed.

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knightofthecourt · 4 years

Text

Shards - Part 5

Final one!

A Handful of Malec snippets, based on various prompts. Alec Lightwood x Magnus Bane - Fluff and romance with a spot of angst.

41. Winter

“Don’t be mad.”

Magnus glanced up from the book he was reading, to the face of the Shadowhunter in the doorway. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Why would I be mad?” he asked. When Alec didn’t answer he sighed and placed his book down on the coffee table. “Alexander?”

“I said don’t be mad.” The Shadowhunter narrowed his eyes and then glanced down.

Magnus followed his gaze and noticed an odd-shaped lump in Alec’s jacket.

“What is that?” Magnus asked, alarmed. He stood up and took a step towards Alec. “Did you get injured on patrol? Are you hurt? If you got hurt again and Jace didn’t call me I’m going to-”

“Stop.” Alec interrupted. He raised an arm towards Magnus, warning him to stay back, and then reached his other hand inside his jacket.

Magnus’ watched his boyfriend uneasily. If Alec clearly wasn’t injured, but he was still acting strange. If he’d brought home another newfangled weapon he wasn’t going to be happy. He’d almost burned down the living room trying to work out how to use a flamethrower last week and Magnus had finally put his foot down. The apartment was a weapon-free zone. Well, except Alec’s bow of course, but that was hardly a fire risk.

But when the Shadowhunter’s hand emerged Magnus had to stifle a laugh.

“I found her in the alley next to the subway station.” He said, gazing down at the small ball of white fluff in his hand. “Her name is Winter - she doesn’t have a tag or anything, I just thought it suited her. She just looked so sad, I couldn’t leave her there and we already have cat food and other cat stuff for Chairman Meow and… well, can we keep her?”

The expression on his face was enough to make Magnus melt. The warlock reached out a hand, slowly, as not to frighten the animal, and the kitten nuzzled her damp nose into his palm.

“Well, seeing as you’ve already named her.” He smiled as Alec’s face lit up and then bent down to get a better look at their new friend.

“Hi, Winter,” he murmured, “welcome home.”

42. Film

“So -- what’s it like, being a vampire?”

“Aline!” Isabelle looked appalled. “You can’t just go around asking people what it’s like to be a vampire!”

Alec snorted, drawing the girls’ attention to him.

“What?” Isabelle asked, glaring at him.

Alec shrugged. “Nothing, Gretchen Weiners.”

“Did you just call her a weiner?” Aline swiveled to face Alec.

“Urm, no.” Alec spluttered. Weren’t they just fighting? Why was everyone staring at him now? “I just… it’s from a film,” he finished lamely.

“Yeah right” Isabelle scoffed, “Since when do you watch films?”

“Yeah,” Aline agreed, “which film is it from?”

“It’s… uh. A film about a mundane high school.” Alec could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Oh! Mean Girls.” Simon, who had been standing quietly in the corner, forgotten during their exchange, piped up. “It’s a chick flick with Lindsay Lohan in. Hey-,” he smiled at Alec, “that’s quite funny.”

Alec ignored the vampire’s praise and focussed on Izzy. As soon as Simon had said the words ‘chick flick’ a large smile had spread across her face.

“Ohhh,” she said, grinning “Is this Magnus’s influence?”

“Magnus?” Aline’s brow crinkled.

“Alec’s sort-of boyfriend.” Simon supplied, helpfully.

“Boyfriend?” Now Aline was grinning.

“Urgggh!” Alec moaned, hiding his glowing face behind his hands. Next time Magnus requested a movie night, he thought, Alec was going to choose the film himself.

43. Green

Green will mend our broken hearts.

Magnus winced as he caught a glimpse of his emerald green dress shirt in the reflection of a restaurant window as he made his way across the street. After another long, restless night he hadn’t put much thought into how he’d dressed that morning, simply pulling on the first thing his tired hands had dug out from the wardrobe. The irony, that on this day in particular, his random selection had turned out to be green hadn’t hit him until this moment, when the flash of colour bought that line from the old Shadowhunter nursery rhyme to the front of his mind.

The corner of his lips quirked up ruefully, somewhere between a grimace and a smile, and he wondered briefly, as he weaved purposefully between the New Yorkers cluttering the sidewalk, whether his subconscious had pushed him towards this shirt. Maybe decades of living with a Shadowhunter, of upholding their customs and traditions had actually rubbed off on him. Maybe his unconscious yearning to heal, to mend, made him willing to believe in something as childish as the power of colours.

The smile slipped from his lips as he walked through a set of tall iron gates, leaving the bustle of the city behind. He paused for a moment, adjusting to the heavy silence that enveloped the area like a fog, and then headed up the well worn path along the side of the cemetery towards the marble angel statue that he knew overlooked the rest of the grounds. The same statue he’d visited every day for the past five years.

No. After all this time, if there was one thing Magnus had learnt, it was that nothing could fix a broken heart. There was no healing, no mending, no moving on. You simply had to bear the pain, and try to survive.

44. Punk

“What are you wearing?”

Alec paused, mug of coffee halfway to his mouth, as he stared at his boyfriend.

“Fabulous, isn’t it?” The warlock gave a wiggle and then twirled so that Alec could see the outfit from every angle.

“No. I mean, you look good,” said Alec, abandoning his coffee on the counter. “Well, great actually. But you’re not going out like that?”

“Of course not.” Magnus waved his hand dismissively at the Shadowhunter. “I’d freeze in this weather.”

Alec nodded mutely, taking in Magnus’s clothes. Or rather, lack of clothes. The warlock was wearing a pair of black ultra-skinny jeans that appeared to be made entirely of scraps of material held together by safety pins and, Alec suspected, willpower. His oversized charcoal t-shirt had a large rip in the side that revealed more than a little of his toned caramel skin and his eyes were ringed artfully with a black glittery eyeshadow that matched the sparkles in his inky spiked hair.

To Alec, he looked like pure, unadulterated sex.

“I wore this in the ‘80s you know,” Magnus circled the kitchen slowly, so Alec could take in the full effect of his clothing. “I was quite the punk in those days, got myself into all sorts of mischief.” He dropped one eyelid in a single glittering wink and smirked when Alec almost choked. “I just wanted to see if it still fit.”

“Uh-huh.” Alec was starting to feel like he was missing something, like he was an unwitting participant in some sort of game. “I thought that was kind of the thing with being immortal though, and, well you. You don’t exactly grow out of your clothes do you?”

Magnus paused. He leaned forward over the counter and tilted his head as if deep in thought. Then he drummed a finger against his lips. Alec’s gaze dropped to the older man’s mouth and he swallowed unconsciously. Was it him or was the kitchen getting a little warm?

“Well,” Magnus said, finally. “I guess you’re right, but you can never be too careful. I have a few more outfits I wanted to try on, maybe you can come and give me your opinion?” He raised an eyebrow at the Shadowhunter.

“Oh?” Alec’s brow furrowed. Magnus wanted him to look at his outfits? But he knew Alec was useless with fashion - oh. He smiled as the realisation clicked in his head. “Oh,” he smiled shyly at the warlock who was now grinning openly at him, and took his outstretched hand. “Yeah, ok, sure.”

45. Paranoia

He was running, sprinting full out into the darkness, legs pumping, thundering down the street as if his only hope of escape was to keep running. And it was, his only hope. The creatures that had been following him for the past three days were almost upon him. He couldn’t see them, in fact he hadn’t managed to get a good look at them this whole time, but he could hear them. That shrill, screeching screaming sound that started as a low buzz and then exploded into ratcheting peals as they grew closer. This is what it would sound like if demons could laugh, he thought.

Alec swerved left, cutting into the narrow path between two tall, dilapidated buildings and swore violently. It was a dead end.

He must have gotten turned around. Years of patrolling the streets of Brooklyn with Jace and Izzy meant he knew the city inside and out, he’d never been cornered before, not unless it was part of the plan - using the tight space as a tactical advantage or luring whatever hell beast they were tracking into a trap. This time he was the one who had been caught.

He ran his hands frantically across the rough, uneven surface of the brick wall in front of him, hoping to find a jutting stone, an exposed pipe, anything he could use as leverage. But there was nothing.

With a start, he realised that the screaming had stopped, replaced by the heavy thumping sound of blood pumping in his ears. His body was exhausted, three days of hiding and running had driven him to the edge of his physical limits, now he’d finally stopped, he didn’t even have enough energy to defend himself. His legs shook and his muscles ached. The only thing that seemed to be working was his heart, he could feel it pulsing, pounding wildly in his chest as it pushed blood, thick and sluggish around his body.

When he heard it he almost wondered if he’d be able to move. But his body acted on autopilot, years of training kicking his muscles into one last burst that spun him out to the side, away from the dark, hulking shape that lurched towards him. He hit the side of one of the buildings and then sank to the ground, legs finally giving out. Through wavering vision he finally caught a glimpse of his attackers. The three looming beasts were unlike any demons he’d seen before. They had legs and arms, like a human, but their limbs were impossibly long, as if they had been stretched too far. Red glowing eyes were set deep into the thick, cracked black skin that coated their bodies and as one of them opened their mouth to emit a piercing shriek, Alec saw rows upon rows of sharp grey teeth.

The tallest demon, the one that had shrieked, towered over him and raised one long, thin arm. As strands of blistering purple venom erupted from the creature, Alec closed his eyes and allowed his body to close down. Huh, he thought, as the world darkened around him and heat spread through his body, I always thought this would be cold.

Izzy knelt beside her brother’s collapsed body and checked his pulse.

“It’s there but it’s weak,” she said. “We need to get him back before he wakes up.”

Magnus nodded in agreement and shot a few more flickers of magic into Alec before lowering his arm. “I don’t know if I can keep him under for much longer, although he seems pretty exhausted.”

“Yeah, you’d almost think he’d been on the run for three days.” Jace commented dryly.

Izzy cocked her head towards him. “It’s not funny Jace,” She chided, “that demon bite clearly did something to his brain.”

“I didn’t say it was funny. If anything, it’s shocking - who knew Alec could outrun either of us for three days. He’s not exactly Captain America.”

“Children.” Magnus glared at them. “Do you think we could do this when Alec is venom-free? Paranoia demon bites might not be fatal but they still pack a punch.” He watched as Izzy and Jace nodded, then bent to pick up Alec.

“And,” he added as he conjured a portal and stepped through, “I really don’t fancy having to fight off a hallucinating shadowhunter again.”

#malec #malec fluff #alec lightwood #magnus bane #magnusbanexaleclightwood #shadowhunters

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somekindoftuber · 5 years

Text

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 5)

(I apologize if the tense changes all over the place, I’m writing this as a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing because I care more about getting the idea out than writing something that’s grammatically perfect. I’ll probably clean this up and make it an actual fic once it’s all done. Thanks for reading!! :D)

part one | part two | part three | part four

There is a definite shift in Keith’s demeanor after Lance’s last visit.

They play Overwatch a few times a week, and while Keith goes into stern-leader-battle-mode when the game is going, between matches he’s loose, candid. He laughs at Lance’s jokes and makes casual conversation about his job, the garage, tells funny stories about Kosmo. Lance tells Keith stories about the customers he has at the cafe. It’s nice to hear a softness in Keith’s voice that Lance hadn’t heard before.

Keith shows up in nearly all of Lance’s Overwatch videos, even if his mic isn’t recorded. They sort of fall into a rhythm, meeting online every Tuesday and Thursday night to search for servers.

“Y’know,” Keith says one night while they’re in queue. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a sniper type.”

“Eh?” Lance is in his Widowmaker menu at that moment, flipping between two skins to see which one he likes more. “What d’you mean?”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Keith clarifies, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “You just seem like more of a Mercy or a support or something. You’re really…” he pauses. “Generous. Always helping people. Then you get in here and you turn into a cold blooded assassin.”

Lance laughs. “I’ve always played a sniper, though. Gotta have balance somewhere, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They text a lot. It’s all small stuff, like pet photos or memes (which Keith doesn’t understand 90% of the time and Lance finds that kind of adorable). But it’s nice. Occasionally they’ll both have an early shift, and Lance will text Keith photos of the ancient espresso grinder, captioned “this thing wants me dead” surrounded with skull emojis. Keith’s sense of humor, Lance learns, is dry as cracker juice. He gets a photo of a broken rubber floor mat with the question, “what sound does a floor mat make when it splits right before a fitness class?” Before Lance can answer, he gets another photo of the same mat, this time with Keith’s middle finger pointing soundly at it. “That sound,” says the caption. Lance laughs so hard that his boss yells at him for being on his phone during a shift.

August comes to an end, and Pidge prepares for her final term. Lance helps by assisting in an apartment clean out, getting rid of literal clutter to ease Pidge’s impending mental clutter. Lance tries not to think about how this might be their last few months in this apartment together. He’s really enjoyed living with Pidge - he wasn’t exaggerating when he said she was like a sister. Pidge is an extension of his family, ever since they met at space camp all those years ago. She’d been a tiny, fluffy, indomitable ball of pure snark and Lance loved her immediately. Since then, they’d stuck together, seeing each other through some of the hardest times. Lance had cheered his lungs out when Pidge was handed her high school diploma, and in a few months, he’d see her walk across another stage in a cap and gown to receive her bachelor’s degree in Robotic Engineering.

It made him a little misty-eyed to think about it.

Pidge is playing Stardew Valley one afternoon (how the hell did she manage to make such an insanely profitable farm before the end of year one?) when she casually brings up one of Lance’s favorite fall events.

“You gonna go to the Founder’s Fair this year?”

Lance doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Uh, is the Pope catholic?”

“Good.” On the screen, Pidge’s character gives a bouquet to Penny. Dating everyone but marrying no one: the Pidge method. “Hunk is coming in for it.”

“Sweet.”

The Harborville Founder’s Fair was the highlight of every autumn. Right as the summer was fading away and the air was showing a hint of a chill, Oceanside Park would explode into three days of carnival rides, food trucks, fireworks, and everything in between. It was also the best time of year to surf - they didn’t get much in the way of waves here, but there would always be just enough in late September to rent a board. Lance had put in his time off request a month ago, buttering up his boss with the ‘this might be my last September in Harborville’ sob story. Which was sort of true, even if he wasn’t quite ready to face that reality yet.

Lance felt like he was getting closer to Keith. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case, but if nothing else, Keith seemed to finally be relaxing around him. There were one or two times when Lance could almost swear Keith was flirting, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. Nope, don’t go there. That’s assuming things. Assuming is dangerous.

The fair is in a week and to make up for missing work on what will be one of the busiest weekends of the year, Lance is working at the cafe nearly every day. He has more steam burns on his hands and wrists from making lattes than ever, and he thinks if he hears the word “pumpkin spice” one more time he might lose it. He hasn’t played Overwatch all week, too tired from extra shifts to do anything other than zone out to Netflix when he gets home.

He’s got two hours left in his Thursday morning shift, then he’s free for the whole weekend. He can practically taste the funnel cakes now - and the Rancho Alegre food truck, the only decent source of Cuban food in the entire state, will be there. God, he’s going to eat until he can’t move.

The morning rush has come and gone and the afternoon crowd isn’t here yet, so Lance is cleaning up the mess of coffee grounds and cinnamon around his work station when the bell on the cafe door sounds. He doesn’t look up as his coworker/supervisor Romelle greets whoever walks through, too preoccupied with wondering how the hell almond milk ended up underneath the grinder.

“Hello,” says the customer and Lance totally knows that voice. He stops wiping sour milk and looks up.

It’s Shiro. And right behind him is Allura and - oh shit. It’s Keith. He’s here, he’s here in the cafe and Lance had no idea he was coming and he probably looks like shit, overworked with bags under his eyes and his face breaking out from stress and he didn’t even shampoo his hair this morning because he was running late --

But then Keith smiles at him and wow. His hair is down and he’s wearing this black and red leather jacket and it should be illegal to look that good. Especially when Lance is such a mess.

“Hi,” Lance says, hating how his voice cracks. “What are you guys doing in town?”

Shiro is pulling out his wallet with his left hand. “We came for the fair. It was always one of my favorite things about going to school here.”

“Oh,” Lance squeaks.

They’re here for the fair. Lance might get to spend time at the fair with Keith. He forces himself to focus on the present before a dozen fantasies of ferris wheel rides and sharing cotton candy can take over his brain.

They all order drinks and Lance claims them before Romelle can even finish ringing them up. Shiro gets a hazelnut americano, Allura orders a tuxedo mocha, and Keith shyly asks for a latte. Lance can tell he doesn’t go to coffee shops often and makes the drinks carefully. He can’t embellish Shiro’s americano, but he uses chocolate sauce and extra foam to draw a bow tie in Allura’s mug. For Keith’s latte, he sends a prayer to the coffee gods to grant him latte art prowess. It works, and Lance is rounding out rings of coffee and foam, pulling through to form a perfect heart.

He slides the mug across the counter to Keith, who’s eyebrow shoot into his hair. He breaths a little “wow” and blushes, taking the mug and smiling. He’s wearing fingerless leather gloves. Lance’s heart flip-flops in his chest.

The three of them find a table near the window and sit, chatting and drinking their coffee. They’re too far away for Lance to hear what they’re saying, and even if he could, he’s on the clock, and the lunchtime regulars are starting to trickle in.

Would it be gauche to text his evening shift coworker and bribe him to come in early so Lance can leave?

Lance thinks Romelle can tell he’s pouting by the way she sides up to him.

“Hey,” she whispers. “Is that the guy?”

He follows her gaze and sees that it lands firmly on the table where Keith is sitting with Shiro and Allura. Keith looks up at Lance, and smiles a little before turning back to his brother.

“Yeah,” Lance whispers back, feeling his face heat up. “The one with the long hair.”

Romelle lets out a low whistle. “Quite the catch,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “What about the girl they’re with?”

“Allura?” Lance thinks. “I don’t know her very well, but she’s nice.”

“She single?”

Lance rolls his eyes and starts on the next drink. “No idea, you should ask her.”

It’s slower today and Lance is thankful for it. With Keith in the room, he can’t focus on anything - it’s a miracle he doesn’t catastrophically screw up the drinks he’s making. There’s a break in customers and Romelle comes over to Lance where he loading a portafilter with espresso and waves her phone.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says, and he does not like that voice. That’s her Supervisor Voice. “I’ll call Ryan in an hour early if you get me Cute Girl’s number.”

Lance puts the tamp down. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He looks over at the table where Keith is sitting. They’ve all finished their drinks and will probably be leaving soon.

“Romelle,” Lance states. “You are an evil super villain and I love you. Consider that number yours.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan Kinkade is walking in and he doesn’t look particularly thrilled about it. Lance takes off his apron and motions at the jar of cash by the register.

“Ryan, you’re a lifesaver and my tips are yours. Thank you!” Lance clocks out before anyone can argue and walks over to where Keith and Co are sitting. He’s very much aware of how he probably reeks of coffee and looks like garbage but does his best to smile anyway.

“My shift is over, did you guys have any plans?”

Shiro smiles and stands. “I think we were going to head to our Air B&B and check in, actually. We could use a breather after that drive. We can meet up for dinner later, if you want.”

Inwardly, Lance lets out a sigh of relief because this means he’ll have time to take a shower and make himself presentable. “That sounds good! Any place you want to go?”

Shiro shrugs. “Is Vinnie’s still open?”

Lance lights up. “Oh yeah, still as good as ever, too! Want to meet there at, uh - “ He checks his phone, it’s barely 3pm. “Around five? We should beat most of the dinner rush that way.”

They all nod and the plans are made. They walk outside together and Lance watches the three of them get into a very nice Chrysler sedan - maybe Allura’s, given how she goes for the driver’s seat. Once they’re gone, Lance heads for his car and books it home. He immediately washes and exfoliates his face, then applies an anti-inflammatory mask and works at cleaning up the apartment. It was already fairly clean since Hunk will be crashing on the pull-out sofa bed for the weekend, and he has no idea of Keith will ever even see this place, but Lance doesn’t want to take any risks.

He shoots Pidge a text to tell her about their plans in case she wants to join. Hunk isn’t due until tomorrow morning.

Apartment clean(er) and his face mask dry and itchy, Lance hops in the shower and scrubs himself sore. Keith is here and will be spending the weekend here and Lance is equal parts ecstatic and terrified. He meticulously goes through his whole grooming routine, moisturizes, swabs, trims his eyebrows, even files his nails. He checks his reflection once he’s done and thankfully his face is less red, the stress acne barely noticeable.

There’s still about 45 minutes until he needs to be at Vinnie’s so Lance takes his time picking out clothes. He settles for a low cut tank top that shows off his collarbones and a beige button down over it with the sleeves rolled up, finishing it off with a pendant necklace and grey skinny jeans. He examines himself in the mirror and frowns a little. Does it look too much like date clothes?

He doesn’t have time to change because then his phone pings and it’s Shiro, saying they’re heading to Vinnie’s a little early. Lance all but throws himself out the door.

Vinnie’s is starting to get crowded, Lance can already see the line forming when he parks. He spots Shiro and Allura easily, their white hair making them stand out. They’d managed to claim a patio table - no small feat - and were chatting happily.

Lance joins them and it’s amazing how welcome he feels in this group, the way Shiro half-pulls a chair out for Lance. Keith is sitting to his right, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, the black t-shirt he wore stretching nicely over his chest. And if he didn’t know any better, Lance could swear he saw Keith’s eyes sweep down his neck and linger.

They ate and laughed and ate more, drinking fancy gourmet sodas. They make loose plans for the weekend - beach tomorrow, then the fair on Saturday, and maybe brunch before they leave on Sunday. Lance educates Keith in the ways of the garlic knot, the most sacred food item on earth. And when Keith shrugs and says they’re “alright,” Lance feigns offense, gasping and clutching his chest.

Pidge joins them later, looking utterly spent from a long day of classes. Lance gives up his seat so she can collapse into it. He kneels beside the table instead, passing Pidge the last of their pizza and appetizers. Keith gives him a look, then scoots over to one side of his chair, patting the other with his hand.

Lance short circuits, looking from the empty side of the chair to Keith’s face several times.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Get up here. That,” he points to where Lance is kneeling, “Is super bad for your knees.”

“Oh?” Lance slides into place, and it’s sort of uncomfortable with half of his ass hanging off the chair, but he can feel heat pouring off Keith’s body with how close he is. “You care much about my knees?”

Keith goes super red. “I’m a physical trainer,” He said, suddenly very interested in his soda. “It’s my job to care. Doing stuff like that will ruin them.”

“Right.”

Lance glances over at Pidge, who had a garlic knot halfway to her mouth and giving Lance the most predatory grin. He glares at her to shut down whatever evil plans she might be formulating.

They finally finish the food and decide to stop taking up a table, bussing it themselves to save the staff some work. Instead of a bar, they decide to head over to Lance and Pidge’s apartment to chill - half because Pidge isn’t 21 yet and wouldn’t be able to join them at most of the bars in town, and half because Vinnie’s was so loud that they’re all craving some quiet.

Lance is so thankful that his past self had the sense to clean a little more. They all sprawl out over the living room, Lance going to pull a chair from the kitchen to sit on so the guests can have the nice couch and Pidge can curl up in the easy chair. Lance offers up the ice cream sandwiches from the freezer and everyone takes one; Allura seems to be examining hers with great interest, like she’s never had one before.

Shiro talks a lot, mostly about what Harborville was like when he and Matt were in college. About their first apartment that should probably have been condemned, the dogs he’d walk between classes for extra cash. Eventually Lance’s cats come out of hiding to investigate, and Keith goes starry-eyed at Batou’s big green eyes and plush grey coat.

Pidge falls asleep in her chair just after nine. Everyone takes a second to coo at how cute she is before Lance bends down to scoop her up.

“Lemme put sleeping beauty here to bed. If she stays there she’ll be sore and cranky when she wakes up.”

He takes Pidge to her room and sets her on her bed, then wrestles her sneakers off her feet, setting her glasses on the bedside table and draping a sheet over her. When he goes back into the living room and sits in the chair he’d removed Pidge from, Allura gives him a fond look.

“You’re very sweet to her.”

Lance shrugs. “She’s pretty much family. Also, I have to do that all the time. I’ve found her face down on her homework out here more times than I want to count.”

They talk for another two hours. Lance feels a little lonely with Keith sitting on the side of the couch furthest from him, but then again, if he was closer, Lance isn’t sure his brain would work. Allura yawns wide.

“I think it’s time we turned in,” she states. “I’d like to get some rest before the weekend starts.”

Shiro agrees. Lance ends up seeing them off in the parking lot, waving as they drive away.

Hunk arrives just after 10am the next morning, armed with bags of groceries to pack a picnic for the beach. He puts Lance and Pidge on an assembly line in the kitchen, making pork sandwiches, vegetable rolls, hummus wraps, crab and radish tartines, potato salad, and chocolate-dipped clementine slices. He’d picked up a package of Lance’s favorite lemon cream cookies and Lance could almost kiss him for it.

With their precious picnic food carefully packed in an ice chest along with plenty of drinks, Lance shot a group text to Keith, Shiro, and Allura to ask if they were ready for the beach. He got confirmation quickly, and they agreed to hit the north shore near the lighthouse, where the sand was rougher but the tourists tended to be a little thinner.

Parking is a bitch but they find a spot, then wait by the trunk for Keith and Co to arrive. About ten minutes later Lance sees Allura’s Chrysler pull in to a spot. They walk over to meet them and Lance is practically bouncing, because 1) he gets to go to the beach, 2) he gets to go surfing with Hunk, 3) he gets to spend time with new friends, and 4) Keith is here. Everyone is in shorts and light shirts, Allura has this big floppy sun hat that is absolutely precious on her, and Keith’s face is shiny with sunscreen. Lance bets that fair skin of his will still be red by the end of the day.

They find a spot that’s decently clear and set up. Hunk, Keith, and Lance tackle the portable canopy that will hopefully keep them all from becoming completely sunburned while Allura and Pidge set out the sand blanket and arrange their stuff to keep the wind from blowing it away. Once they’re settled, the ice chest is opened and sodas and juice are passed around. The wind is strong today but not enough to be a problem for their canopy, and the waves are large and plentiful. Lance eyes the surfboard rental shack a quarter mile down the beach.

Once they’ve had enough of snacking and chatting, Lance gives Hunk fingerguns and they almost take off down the beach together, making a beeline for the surfboards. Rolo is working it as usual and after some searching they find the perfect boards and duck into the changing tent to get into their springsuits. Lance has the white and blue suit up over his hips and was about to pull it the rest of the way on when he remembers that Keith is sitting out there. Ever since Lance learned he was a Crossfit trainer, he’d started running and working out again. He wasn’t in as good a shape as he was when he’d been swimming competitively, but thanks to months of regular exercise, he at least sort of looked the part again. And maybe he wanted to show off a little. So Lance left the top of his springsuit open and hanging from his hips as they went back to the group with their boards.

“Showoff,” Hunk accused while they were still out of earshot of everyone else.

Lance subtly flexed his chest. “So? I worked hard for this.”

When they got back to the canopy, Lance did his best to act nonchalant as he set his board aside and started pulling his springsuit up over his chest. Keith was definitely looking at him. Mission accomplished.

His flirty nature satisfied, it was time to surf. Lance missed this so much, the first step into the ocean water was like heaven. He and Hunk paddled out until the water was smooth, then sat on their boards and waited. They didn’t have to wait long, Hunk caught the first good wave that came their way, riding it out and away. Lance caught the next one, and it was a crazy high. It just felt so good, cutting through the water with his board, turning, riding through tunnels of blue-green. The waves tossed him, wrecked him, dragged his body against the sand below. But every time, Lance would surface, shake it off, and paddle out for another go.

His legs finally started to shake, so Lance hauled his board back to the shore. Hunk was already sitting under the canopy again, changed out of his springsuit and sipping on a juice box.

“I was gonna give you ten more minutes before I dragged you out of the water,” Hunk said.

Lance didn’t reply, chest heaving as he caught his breath. His board hits the sand and he all but collapses onto the sand sheet, his ears ringing.

A water bottle appeared in his periphery. Lance looked up enough to trace the hand that held it back to Keith, who was wearing this cute little smile. Lance smiled back and took the bottle, downing half of it in one gulp.

Pidge starts pulling out food and Lance blindly eats whatever is handed to him, too exhausted to care what it is. It’s all delicious but with how many calories he burned surfing, he could probably be eating stale saltines and they’d taste like a delicacy. He leans back on the sand sheet and basks in the post-surf euphoria.

Lance notices everyone starting to get up. Allura is holding several frisbees with a gleam in her eye, and most of the group is rising to join her. Keith stands and, after fiddling with the collar of his shirt for a second, reaches back and pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the ground.

Lance is instantly awake because holy shit. Keith is ripped. He’s all tight skin and perfect muscles and - oh.

He’d been wrong when he’d assumed Keith’s tattoo was a wolf. It’s actually a lion, roaring fiercely, emblazoned in dark red ink over his left hip.

Keith takes a hair tie off his wrist and uses it to pull his hair up high on the back of his head. He shoots Lance a loaded glance before walking out into the sun to join everyone else for a game of frisbee tag. Lance memorizes the muscles of his back as he goes.

“Good god, you’re so loud.”

Lance sits up and turns to see Pidge, sitting in the center of the sand sheet in her shorts and green rash guard, with her phone in one hand and a cookie in the other.

“I didn’t say anything!” Lance protests. Pidge just cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Not with words, anyway.”

Lance frowns, then dares to look back out at his friends, finding Keith and tracking his movements across the beach.

They empty the ice chest of food and drink and, after several more hours of beach fun, they decide to pack it in and head out. Lance is going to remember this day for the rest of his life - the image of Keith glistening wet as he walked out of the ocean had finally taught Lance the meaning of the phrase “looks good enough to eat.”

Lance is so, so tired. Surfing wore him out but he still played a round of beach volleyball after that, and then swam some more. He’s going to be so sore tomorrow. He drives himself, Hunk, and Pidge back to their apartments to shower and change before they head over to the Air B&B where Shiro, Keith, and Allura are staying. Lance decides on a regular shirt and his favorite jeans, only bothering to put a single layer of moisturizer on his face.

The Air B&B turns out to be a whole house, with a yard and a little deck where they all gather around faded patio furniture as Shiro hands out beers. He gives Pidge a look as she takes one for herself.

“What?” She says as she twists off the top of the bottle. “I’m gonna be 21 in a few months, I’m in safe company, and I’m not driving.”

Shiro just sighs and sits down.

They talk and laugh for hours. Pidge only has one beer before switching to sweet tea, and Lance is a little relieved. He has no idea what drunk Pidge would be like and he’d rather not find out this weekend - he would be cash money that she’d be ornery as hell. Hunk orders some delivery from their favorite noodle place when Lance isn’t paying attention. Keith looks happy as a kid on Christmas with a giant bowl of pho in front of him, and Lance learns that Vietnamese food is his favorite.

They move inside once the sun goes down to keep from bothering the neighbors. Lance settles into a corner of the faded couch, and is too tired to panic when Keith sits next to him. Hunk launches into a story about his last term at school when he almost blew the breaker for the entire engineering building and Lance tries to pay attention, but he’s worn out and Keith is radiating heat like a furnace. Combine that with his full stomach and a couple of beers and he’s so, so sleepy.

Someone is calling his name and Lance inhales sharply, eyes fluttering open. It was Hunk, who’s smiling at him from across the coffee table. Lance is leaning on something warm and solid. He rubs his eyes and looks up.

He was leaning on Keith.

Lance’s eyes bug out but Keith just looks down at him with this tiny smile and a blush on his cheeks. Lance suddenly feels like the room is a million degrees as he carefully sits up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out.”

Keith laughs softly. “It’s fine.”

They all start to wrap up their stories and conversations. Lance doesn’t know what time it is but it feels late, and since they want to hit the fair tomorrow, they should all get some sleep. Hunk offers to drive home and Lance hands him the keys as Keith, Shiro, and Allura wave goodbye from the front porch.

He almost falls asleep again in the ten minutes it takes Hunk to drive them back to their apartment. Lance helps set up the pull-out sofa, then goes to brush his teeth. He’s practically nodding off at the bathroom sink when Pidge comes up to him and pulls out her phone.

“Thought you should see this,” she says, holding it up.

On the screen is a photo of Keith, and, with his head resting on Keith’s shoulder dead asleep, Lance. Keith is looking down at him and definitely blushing.

The toothbrush stills in Lance’s mouth as he swipes the phone from Pidge’s hand, using his thumbs to pull and zoom. Keith was smiling.

“Please send this to me immediately,” Lance tells her, words muffled from the toothbrush still hanging from between his teeth.

He’s in bed setting his alarm when he gets the text from Pidge with the photo attached. And if Lance hugs a pillow and kicks his feet a little at the sight, who could blame him?

Continued in part 6!

#youtuber au #text #klance

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warmau · 4 years

Text

{Special} College!AU Shinwon

*this post was commissioned | find all my college aus here | commission info

major: media management

minor: rhetoric

sports: brags about how his long legs are perfect for volleyball, but screamed bloody murder when hongseok spiked the ball in his direction once so you could say,,,,,,,,shinwon’s not a sports person

clubs: drama club (less for the acting, more for the strutting), public speaking, and of course - it’s not a club per say - but the fashion department always loops him into helping them out as an impromptu model

shinwon,,,,,,,,,,really didn’t think he’d even end up going to college,,,,,,,,,,,,,

really he was sort of set on debuting as a model and working it out from there

but after a while, waiting around for work just got boring

so he left the agency he’d signed up with when he was still in highschool and applied to college

much to everyone's collective shock, his parents, sister, and himself included

hui: im so proud he took this step, you know shinwon is bright and im sure he’ll use his brain for good.

shinwon: exactly!

shinwon five seconds later: actually i just realized i have to do homework again and i think im going to drop out?

hongseok: i knew it

shinwon’s reputation is all over the place - he’s kind of known as being messy, beautiful beyond comprehension sure,,,,,

but he’s messy messy

from his dorm room

cluttered with magazines he’s been featured in, his guitar stands, vinyls which no one understands why he buys like this is the twenty-first century ......, and clothing strewn from the lampshade

to his dating history

pretty sure he’s had a hook up with someone from every department available on campus like pre-meds, literature, music, hell even someone in egyptology was smitten by his good looks

and of course ,,,,, his personality

from playing childish tricks on tired masters student jinho, to owning the student held fashion shows with impeccable grace and posture

yuto affectionately refers to shinwon as a rubix cube made of spikes, flowers, and a little bit of hot sauce

shinwon thinks it’s such a compliment, he tries to lean over and grab yuto in for a kiss

(which is refused with an almost punch to the face)

he’s definitely a force on campus and is famous for different reasons with different people

but if there’s one thing shinwon has learned from life it’s that he really cannot stand to give two shits about what people say about him behind his back

not like he’s going to hear it anyway

and he’s blunt to the point where it’s sometimes too much and hongseok on occasion (many occasions) has had to just pick shinwon’s six foot tall body up

and carry him out - as shinwon continues to spew well-deserving facts at whoever it is that tried to start with him

(or any of his friends. someone once made an offhanded comment about yeoone who is way too nice to say anything and shinwon just stopped in and turned on his gucci boots heel to be like “come again?”)

loves when cute shy freshmen get all nervous around him like

“oh my god, he looks like a marble statue! wasn’t he on that one magazine? he’s so pretty~ he must be so cool~”

shinwon: basking in it

hongseok: trying so hard not to tell them about how shinwon is nothing close to cool

has the worst diet imaginable - lives on fast food

and he does NOT work out which adds more confusion

pre-meds will be like “hey,,,,,,so,,,,,,,,,do you have like ibs or something? or is your stomach literally made of iron?”

and shinwon just slaps his scrawny tummy and is like “i don’t know man, but this machine runs smoothly!”

more clothes than he knows what to do with - likes brand names, but cannot afford them unless he has gigs - says he doesnt but totally owns a cheap tracksuit that he lazes around in during campus holidays

backpack covered in old rock band pins

always steals his classmate's pencils

notes stained with coffee

binders unorganized, lost his textbook at a nightclub

really again - does not look like he belongs in college LOL

does media management because it still keeps him in the loop of fashion, but without all the actual drawing and sewing

because no one trusts him near a sewing machine or fabric scissors

the rhetoric minor was a big surprise - but shinwon just goes

“i get grades for talking good”

jinho, twitching: “talking well. you can’t say “talking good”

shinwon: “talking sexy ;) hahaha”

jinho: ill kill him

he is an enigma with a shit-eating grin ,,,,,,,

but he’s also hot. and has perfect proportions,,,,,,,,,,

you,,,,,,,are a fashion major,,,,,,,,who knows the legends about ko shinwon

about how he’s nothing but fire to play with

that being said

you are absolutely, utterly, one hundred percent, totally infatuated with him

he’s been your muse since you first stepped into the fashion building and saw him making his way down the hall

half of someones finished project still pinned to his shoulders, messy orange hair pulled up with bobby pins and that smile

almost,,,,,, angelically,,,,,, twisted?

you had no idea how to describe it - but you had remembered him and even though you knew no one else's name yet

he was the person you could visualize in an instance

you’d learned his name at your first student held fashion show, where to your dismay he had already been picked by someone else to be their model

and they’d skipped past calling out for him

“shinwon~”

you repeated it again on your lips in a small whisper “shinwon”

it was unique, it was different, and you really really started liking it

everything about him was unique, different, and you can guess,,,,,,,,you were really starting to like him

not like you would ever act on it though

shinwon seemed untouchable, not because he was standoffish - actually he seemed like he’d be super easy to get along with

it was because he was just,,,,,,,,he was just so ,,,,,,, unusual

and you wouldn’t consider yourself a shining star, you were like everyone else

waking up, doing your schoolwork, trying your best to breakthrough in fashion

you had a small group of friends - you had your regular hangout spots - your favorite kind of coffee flavor

you were simple, you would say, and shinwon was not

that’s why he gave you so much inspiration

if you were one speck in the galaxy, he was like a whole milkyway

you had started off just admiring from afar, but as time went back you started sketching too

at first it was what you could conjure from your memories of him

the flashes of him around the fashion department, when you saw him in the library, the orange hair - the sparkling oak brown eyes - the over-the-top outfit he pulled off effortlessly

and when you think you’d filled up half of your sketchbook with stills of him

you started to envision him in your designs

actually, you had lied, you were a simple person

but your mind was not - you might have stuck to simple tones and patterns in your wardrobe

but when it came to clothes you made, you were vibrant and loud and risky

some of your professors had initially mixed up your work, thinking your submitted designs were someone elses

because well ,,,,,,,,,,,,, they just didn’t match

your designs were for someone,,,,,,,,,,,,,,someone like shinwon

bursting with confidence, immune to shame, always ready for a thrill

your goal had quickly went from being able to saying hi to him in the hallway

to one day having him wear an original creation of yours

but getting shinwon as your model was a feat

either he wasn’t doing the show at all, or he was everyone elses number one pick

with long, lithe limbs and an almost wonderland like face

that is ,,,,,,,,,,,,,, until the final project for the semester came up

you were expecting it all to go as usual

the older fashion majors would get first dibs on their models - someone would pick shinwon (if he was even showing up)

and you’d only have to go back to drawing him with your designs rather than seeing them come to life

but to your almost painstakingly obvious shock

that was not the case

shinwon did volunteer to model for the final project - but,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,no one was picking him

actually - everyone was actively avoiding him

and when your turn came around you couldn’t believe you were finally getting to say it

“i’ll pick ko shinwon.”

suddenly there was a swarm of muffled whispers - you couldn’t hear anything clearly but as shinwon strode over to you

he gave you a once over and winked - and the was enough to make your entire body flare up

after everyone got settled with their models, you were shaking with anticipation as shinwon slipped into the seat across from you

“are you cold or am i just so handsome you can’t help shivering?”

he jokes, running a hand through his hair for added effect

“y-yes”

you answer, stupidly unsure of what else to say

he lets out a laugh, leaning over to pat the top of your head which once again sends you into a blank

“cute, so - let’s see what you’ll be dressing me up in huh?”

he leans over and you flounder as you flip to the page with the outfit you’ve chosen to create for your final

it’s inspired by 80s punk and glam - rhinestones, spikes, rainbows

shinwon’s eyes light up when he sees it and he looks at you with a giant smile

“where have you been all my life - this is totally my style!”

i know,,,,,i made it thinking about you,,,,,,,,,,,

is what you want to say - but you just stutter over your words instead

“o-oh, im glad you like it,,,”

he nudges at your elbow and you think electricity rides up your spine

“can’t wait to wear it! by the way-”

he moves his body, gracefully around the table so he’s standing beside you now

it makes everything else melt away as he leans in closer to your face with his own

“don’t listen to what people say about me - and trust me, ok?”

it’s,,,, cryptic - and in the moment you had no clue what he was talking about - but he’s your muse

and he’s inches too close to you

so really - it goes over your head as you nod with moonstruck stars in your eyes

shinwon says his goodbyes and tells you to text him when you want to do measurements

you only realize after he’s gone that,,,,,,,,,,you don’t have his number

so you approach an upperclassmen who usually works with him and politely ask if she might have it

she stops what she’s doing and sighs

“you really picked shinwon for your final project - you’re crazy!”

you look around - not sure if she’s really talking to you - until she huffs

“this is the final - you can’t rely on someone like him!”

someone like him?

“wh-why not, he’s done other shows?”

she shakes her head

“other shows aren’t the final project. he might just not show up on the day or he might get the clothes dirty. he’s fun when there are no consequences but you know this is worth fifty percent of our grade right?”

you’re left sort of speechless and she just mutters that she pities you as she scribbles down the number in your sketchbook and hands it back to you

you turn and realize other students are eyeing you from their station

a lot of them are already doing measurements on their models, while yours

well shinwon just left

you hadn’t stopped him - he just said he had to go

you feel something twist in your stomach but you ignore it

he had said it right - not to listen, and to trust him

the first couple of weeks go by,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, perfectly

you finally suck it up after typing and deleting a text to shinwon about measurements

spending nearly half a day trying to come up with a casual and cool way of asking

and all you get in response is a misspelled “yeha” from him when you make a date and time

you think it’s goofy and cute

and shinwon does show up

charming, joking, making you embarrassed and happy all in the same breath as you take his measurements

wiggling his eyebrows when you ask him to take his shirt off for the chest measurement

excitedly rambling about this underground show he’s seeing on the weekend

mind you - you and him haven’t ever had a conversation before this

shinwon just naturally opens up - having no problem doing the talking as you either 1) stare at him like a puppy or 2) nod enthusiastically in agreement to whatever he’s saying

you’re pretty sure he can tell how much you admire him and with anyone else you’d be dead from the shyness

but with him it’s like,,,,,,,,,it’s like he’s a celebrity to you

so it’s not that bad to be so so so enamored

his flirting doesn’t come off as anything romantic either, just part of his persona

and despite those doubts from other students

“he could just now show up” “he isn’t super reliable” “he might go to a party and just forget in the morning to show up!”

it doesn’t happen - when you need him, shinwon is there

and it’s like a dream come true - watching your outfits slowly come to life on his perfect figure

there is a hiccup at some point

shinwon agrees to meet you on a thursday evening for some help - you had initially been shy about asking him to come and look at fabrics with you

you don’t really ask models for that kind of advice

but when you’d mentioned - he’d been the one to get all giddy at the thought

and, with your heart over the moon, you waited outside the fashion building

for two hours

your phone was barren of any texts - any calls

and even though it hit 10 pm and the store was closed - you stuck it around for a little while

but he ,,,,,,,,,, didn’t show up

it’s fine! he probably had to cram for an exam or something - he seems like the type to push studying to the last minute

you make up the excuse and nod to yourself, happy with the conclusion you’ve drawn

pushing down any doubt that might have tried to bubble up

and it’s just a hiccup - because shinwon bumps into you three days later and snaps his fingers

“AH! we were supposed to go shopping right? i totally forgot! please forgive me! shinwon has been a bad boy!”

he clasps his hands together and pouts and you laugh, telling him it’s totally fine

yuto and jinho who are beside him look confused and so shinwon introduces you as you shyly hand over your sketchbook

because shinwon insists you show his friends your outfit planned

“wow, you’re so talented - these look so much like shinwon.”

yuto compliments, flipping to some of the old drawings you had of shinwon

you forgot about them and try to stutter out an excuse but shinwon is already sticking his nose between the pages with wonder

“woah! you’ve drawn me so much!”

you clasp your hands together - awkward and shy

jinho takes note of the way you can’t help but smile as shinwon continues to muse about how much he likes your drawings

and when you finally get your sketchbook back - shinwon promises he will never forget when you ask him to do something again

he does this by taking your hands in his own and giving them a squeeze

you’re so happy you can’t even speak and again,,,,,,,,,,,,jinho takes note of that

as you scurry past them - realizing you’re late for class now, he turns to shinwon with a tilt of his head

“they seem really sweet. are you sure you’re being nice to them?”

shinwon rolls his eyes

“im always nice”

“no - you did forget to go shopping with them.”

shinwon puffs out his chest with a whine

“because i woke up on the roof at like 5pm - i didn’t remember my own name hyung. now stop grilling me about it - they weren’t mad and so why are you?”

jinho pulls his lips back into a tight line - yuto breaks the tension with a question about lunch and shinwon ignores the side glances jinho still throws his way

you really aren’t mad, just like shinwon said

because he shows up when you ask him to for some extra measurements and test runs on the runway

he’s the same silly, weird, and lovely boy as usual

playing with the sleeves of the half-finished top piece you’re working on -

showing you the new candy bracelet he got

putting his arm around you when he leans over to look at your new sketches

knowing damn well your head goes spinning

“you’re cute when you get all nervous - do you really think im that handsome?”

he makes the joke again and you try to answer but all you can squeak out is “yes?”

he even offers to make it up to you for not showing up - the offer is to go to mcdonalds but it’s still sweet - and you assure him it’s fine, you’re not angry - not at all

but ,,,,,,,, the happiness of those moments with him dulls as more and more hiccups begin to happen

he texts you that he can’t make it to the practice runway - he’s sick

you understand

then he doesn’t text you or tell you anything on the next one - you don’t have your model and all the students shake their head with pity at you

the final date approaches faster

and shinwon,,,,,,,,,,,,,goes ghost

you don’t want to be that person and over text him - but you have to, this is about your grade

suddenly the worries you’d been told about in the beginning of all this start coming true

maybe he got super sick - i should ask his friends, but i don’t know them that well - did i do something wrong?

you don’t get it - every day without word from him is another day closer to the final runway

it stresses you out and you notice the acne coming in - the refusal to eat because it makes your stomach sick

you’re running across campus because you’ve pulled another allnighter working on your designs and fell asleep on accident

when you slam right into someones chest

your books go flying, the yogurt you had bought falls and explodes somewhere behind you

and when you look up you see ------- what was his name ------ jinho?

“oh gosh, im so sorry”

you mutter, leaning down to get your things

jinho realizes you’re scrambling and he helps you - for which you bow over ten times and apologize again for bothering him

but before you continue on your run he asks you, much to your shock

“have you seen shinwon?”

your face pales and you can’t move forward even though you know class has started

you shake your head slowly and jinho lets out a sigh

“how long has it been?”

“maybe two weeks....”

“ah. ill talk to him.”

you perk up - and then just as instantly your shoulders sag - you shouldn’t be so excited over someone whose been ignoring you for no apparent reason

“no it’s ok-”

“isn’t he supposed to be helping you with your project. it’s not ok - he’s being a brat.”

you don’t want to argue because jinho is older and closer to shinwon, but you also don’t want it to seem like you’re begging for his help

“please,,,,,just ask him if i did something wrong?”

you look into jinho’s eyes and it clicks for him

“you like shinwon don’t you?”

your books fall out of your hands again and this time it’s not because you’ve been knocked over

you just don’t know how to answer the sudden question - because you really,,,,,,,,,,,,don’t know

“he’s my muse.”

you start

“and im just,,,,,,,i just don’t want to lose that.”

jinho leans down to help with your books again, he gives you one last look before turning and heading toward the dorms

you don’t even bother getting to class anymore - you just drag yourself to the workrooms in the fashion department and sit beside your final project

it looks much less extravagant on the mannequin then it does on shinwon

and when you open your sketchbook it flips to one of your first drawings you ever did of him

it hurts to think about him.....not even because of my grades......but because........

you shake your head and lay it down on the table

no, you always have to remember what you say. you’re a small tiny star - that boys a milkyway.

jinho finds shinwon in the bathroom of the dorm, the ramones are blasting from his phone and he’s got his hands covered in black hair dye

jumping when he sees his older friend, shinwon grumbles that jinho should at least knock

but jinho crosses his arms, stern gaze unwavering on shinwon

“why are you ignoring that sweet fashion major who obviously idolizes you?”

“im not ignoring them - they’re ignoring me.”

shinwon points a finger

“and no one ignores me, you know this.”

he turns to look at himself in the mirror - making a face as the old orange goes back to his natural thick black

jinho cocks an eyebrow

“really? i just bumped into them and the poor kid looks like a mess.”

“are you saying im lying - look at my phone!”

jinho picks it up from where it’s charging on the bathroom sink

“this isn’t your phone........ is it new?”

“yeah - my last gig gave it to me along with some free clothes, my old ones on my desk but im using this one now”

he scrolls through the texts messages, gagging at some of them, and he finds what he can only assume is your number

it doesn’t have your name - all it says is

“cutest fashion major ive met in a hot minute”

jinho opens the messages and ,,,,,, it’s true - shinwon has sent an abundance of texts to you but ,,,,,,, none of them are answered

it takes three minutes for jinho to figure out what’s going on

he picks up shinwon’s old phone - find your contact (saved with the same corny name) and opens it

shinwon typed your number in..................wrong

and in his old phone are the messages from you that going unanswered

jinho groans

“ko shinwon - you’re an idiot.”

shinwon pokes his head out of the bathroom - “i know that, but what did i do this time?”

you pick your head up after what seems like hours - drool embarrassingly on the edge of the workroom table

did i fall asleep here? guess i missed more than one class.......

you stretch and look down at your sketchbook with tired eyes

“oh you’re awake?”

you jump at the sound of the voice and nearly fall out of your chair when you see shinwon sitting across from you

he’s,,,,,,,,,he’s got black hair now - and he’s not wearing his usual outrageously expensive outfits

he’s just got a flannel over some simple jeans

the sleeves are rolled up and you see those candy bracelets he loves making, the silver rings you’ve sketched on his hands a million times over

“sh-shinwon?”

“wanna hear something hilarious?”

he pulls his phone out and grins

“i was texting the wrong number for a whole two weeks - the person must think im insane! well,,,,,,,,they wouldn’t be wrong.”

you don’t understand - you look down at the screen and see the contact name

“cutest fashion major-”

“ah ah ah don’t look at that - look at the texts.”

he waves his hand and you read them one by one

“hey - do you need me for measurements? you know my body is always ready!” “hey hey hey” “doesn’t a designer need their model?” “are you mad at me? did i do something dumb when i was drunk and i dont remember?” “heeeeeeeelllllllllloooooooo?” “ill make it up to you~ shinwon was a bad boy wasn’t he?” “hey, is everything alright?”

you still don’t really understand - you look up and shinwon is resting his cheek on his palm

“i got a new phone which is why i wasnt getting your texts and you weren’t getting mine.”

something that feels better then relief washes over you

“o-oh, i thought you just ,,,,,,,,, you just didn’t want to help me anymore?”

shinwon makes a dramatic noise and jumps up from his seat - pointing at the outfit on the mannequin

“and miss out on wearing THAT masterpiece, never!”

he rounds the table

“it’s the best design ive ever seen - from the people here and from the magazine shoots ive done.”

he looks at you and for the first time they’re not those crazy, sparkling with mischief eyes

they’re almost,,,,,,,,,,,,soft

“i really love it. i won’t let you down.”

suddenly the stress and the tiredness that had hung over you seems to vanish

you get up to and smile up at him

“well then - i should finish it quick. i won’t let you down either!”

shinwon grins and when he reaches over to ruffle your hair like he’s done many times before

it’s like gravity refuses to let him - instead all the wires in his brain connect and he puts his hand on your shoulder gently

tugging you into his chest and into a hug

he smells like ,,,,,,,, fresh laundry and there’s the residual lingering from the hair dye

but there’s also the smell of his skin and the warmth of his tall frame

it sends an earthquake through you - but it makes you feel safe too

and shinwon,,,,,,,,,,,,shinwon can’t believe that there’s someone on this earth who fits so perfectly into his arms

for the first time in...............ever ...........shinwon pulls away and misses the feeling instantly

he doesn’t show it - he starts blabbering to forget the mess starting up in his brain

and you are content, as always, to go along with him

shinwon feels like something has taken him over when he offers to walk you to your dorm and you think nothing of it

waving goodbye as you go inside and some students pass by shinwon in awe

ko shinwon,,,,,,,,walked someone home? and is staring at the spot they just stood in with - is that - is that -?

this time shinwon keeps to his promise - actually he probably goes up and beyond that

he even starts asking if he can come over and see your progress

sitting beside you as you work - much to the shock of everyone else

because,,,,,,,, shinwon is never one to sit still

he’s there for measurements, the show, and then he’s out

doing whatever it is he does on campus

someone asks you about it - but you just go “he wanted to come!”

it doesn’t seem all that remarkable to you - you’re just happy to see he’s proven everyone who doubted and didn’t pick him wrong

you start to talk more too, you get excited as the final project comes to a close and the day of the fashion show approaches

you explain to shinwon the colors you chose, the fabrics, the inspo

and he stares at you in wonder this time

but you just can’t wait to see him under the lights - glittering like the beautiful model he is

on the day of the show - you’re excited to see your friends and even some of shinwon’s show up

and as you get ready behind the stage - tailoring the pieces to sit just perfect on shinwon

he watches your fingers work and your concentration and you apologize when you lean in to apply some makeup to his eyes

but he just welcomes it - your touch which was just like everyone elses when this started

feels like heaven all of a sudden

you hear your professor call out the order for the models - shinwon is last and it makes you nervous but you’re also happy because

this outfit is showstopper - it’s shinwon to a T

and it deserves to be the best, so it should be saved for last

you fix one of the lapels and make sure shinwon’s accessories are in order before you take his hands in yours

you look into his eyes - it’s dark behind the curtains but shinwon sees you clear as day

“thank you - you’re the only person who could wear what i’ve made. shinwon, you’re my muse.”

you breathe as you say the word - the word you’ve wanted to say for so long now

“im your muse?”

“yes, im honored to make this outfit for you. and im so happy you worked with me. i couldn’t have done it without you. you look so beautiful-”

shinwon can’t stop what comes over him

it’s not stupid lust like it usually is with him - it’s another worldly force this time

it’s what they sing about in all those love songs - all those songs about wanting to be connected to someone

“no - you look beautiful.”

he presses his lips to yours before you can finish your sentence

and his name is called out for the order

he rushes to the line and you

you are frozen - unsure of what just happened

am in a movie? did shinwon just ,,,,,,,,,,,, kiss me?

you can’t even process it - one of your classmates comes and tugs you toward the audience

you look over your shoulder and shinwon is staring at you from the line

oh my god - i think shinwon just kissed me for real.

the fashion show is a haze - you want to pay attention, but you keep touching your lips

it’s not until the shinwon steps out into the limelight and struts with everything he’s got

flaunting your design, making it move and sparkle just like you had seen in your vision

the crowd all let out a wave of oohs~ and the professors who are judging seem to be impressed

and when he makes his way to the turn - he spots you - the background music seems to stop

the people seem to disappear

he was fucking right - you are beautiful

you get rave reviews on your outfit - people flock to you after the show to ask about it

you want to answer questions and thank everyone - but you are looking for him

you’re looking for shinwon

who is in turn, looking for you - ignoring the people who try to get in his way

he pulls you out from the conversation - waving off the complaints of others

and tugs you through the crowded stage until you guys are alone - stuffed into a corner of costume racks and abandoned makeup stations

“shinwon why did you-”

“am i just your muse? am i just someone you idolize - or do you - do you -”

he has never struggled this much in his life

you’re looking at him with such purity that it feels overwhelming as he puts his hands on your face and kisses you again

you melt into it and he eats it up - until you’re caught by stagehands who usher you annoyingly back out into the mess of people

jinho, yuto, hongseok and hui who came to see shinwon spot you guys and jinho’s eyes avert right to your hand - in shinwon’s

he smiles - he knew all along

because yes, you looked at shinwon like he was the only man in the world but

jinho had never seen shinwon text someone seven times in a row

and he sure as hell had never seen shinwon reject an oncoming hookup like he had for the past couple of weeks

“so - something you want to tell us?”

hongseok asks, and hui looks at you and then at shinwon

shinwon shrugs

“nah not really, just that ,,,,,,,,,,, well,,,,,,,,,,,”

he shakes your hands a little and you go red

“looks like ko shinwon is off the market! sorry ladies and gentlemen - i think ive found,,,,,,,,,,,,what’s a word for it,,,,,,,,,,,,,, my muse?”

so dating shinwon,,,,,,,,,is like a whole new world for you

you were always so sure you’d be a secret admirer - at most someone who got to work with him

but now you were like ,,,,,,, you were his significant other ,,,,,,,,,,

you were basically like an overnight star

you showed up the next morning after the fashion show and everyone was just like

“YOU LOCKED DOWN SHINWON? KO SHINWON? HOW? WAS IT MAGIC?”

shinwon is so dramatic you know he opened up his contacts and deleted nearly everyone he’d ever fooled around with and you’re like

that’s not necessary and he’s like

“once im committed im committed. i should delete hui’s number too i think he has a crush on me”

hui in his composition class: my shinwon senses are telling me im being clowned

no one knew,,,,,,,shinwon could love someone so hard

for most of his life he’s taken everything happy-go-lucky, he’s always just lived by the flow

but now he’s like ,,,,,,,,,, he’s like a changed person

you are the only thing he seems to put real effort into

which you actually know isn’t true, shinwon takes modeling seriously and although his studying is slacking

you are there to encourage him

because jinho and hongseok poking at him for never doing his homework is not going to get shinwon a degree

so you offer to help him study and your first dates consist on you trying to get him from a D to at least a C+ in most of his classes

he probably doesn’t even know how to properly use excel so you’re like babe let me

as you date him, you realize that the uniqueness you fell for in the first place stays true with shinwon

there’s so much more to him - like his musical talents and his secret nerdiness

and also the anxiety that sometimes spikes in his throat and that he plays off but that now,,,,,,,,,now he has someone who’ll take these thing seriously

you can see it - when he can’t figure out his schoolwork or when a gig gets canceled on him

the furrow of his brow - the silliness gone from his face and in the beginning he tries to keep up appearances

but you just pull his long body down to yours and you tell him that nothing in this world is going to stop him from being successful

“you were born to shine, shinwon. it’s why i saw you for a second and never forgot”

“babe.............omg you had a crush on me from first sight?”

“im trying to be serious ko shinwon”

him wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you in closer “i know but like oooo a crush on me hehe you’re so cute”

you: rolling your eyes but also it’s true,,,,,,kinda

he gives you a tour of the infamous madhouse dorm - stock full of vinyls, his guitar, and brand name clothes on the floor

you’re kinda like “ooo this is cute” picking up a sweater off the floor and he’s like that’s versace i think?

you: and it’s on the floor

shinwon, shrugging: i ran out of hangers

oh my god shopping for anything with shinwon is a trip he somehow always tries to buy something that’s shiny and not useful and you’re like hey hey no

you become his impulse control - like at least 75% of it. the other 25% is jinho yelling at him over the phone

he’s such a cutie pie he loves making those candy bracelets with little rainbow charms and he makes some for you with your favorite song lyrics

which he hums as he puts on your wrist

and you promise not to take it off - which shinwon is more proud about then he should be

gives you nose kisses a lot - ruffles your hair a lot - asks you to sit on his lap and you’re like no we’re in public

loves it when you sit behind him and put your hands in his hair as he flips through the tv channels or plays a video game

won’t admit how much it kinda turns him on when you tug it - but you learn

you once are making out and shinwon keeps trying to tug at your shirt and you’re just like “listen to me shinwon, stop rushing me.” and oooooooooh my gooooooooooood

he thinks he sees stars

you most of the time: his precious angel who he can make all blushy with just some cheesy words

you also: bosses him around and points out his bullshit (which he is very into)

you and shinwon probably rock halloween parties - even though you’re not to big on the whole scene - you make the costumes and they’re killer and shinwon is just like

“they made this. for me. only me. only i get to wear the clothes they made”

complains about how when you’re a rich famous designer everyone else is gonna get to wear your masterpieces

makes you promise you’ll make exclusive outfits just for him

he does the MOST embarrassing thing ever

he marches into the fashion dept workroom one afternoon and he’s like “everyone, psa: when im a model i want to by chosen by ONE person and ONE person only - you know who!”

he winks your way and the whole room (including you) groans

like no one was planning on it anyway shinwon - he just lives for theatrics doesn’t he

his modeling gigs usually last a long time and go late into the night and he doesn’t expect you to stay up or anything

maybe send a text and a photo or whatever

but when he comes back to the dorms and you’re waiting in his bed wearing one of his led zepplin tshirts he just

he just gets all giddy - can’t keep his hands to his damn self

but also shinwon is a bad texter to everyone

but you

you get constant updates and constant photos which are demanded to become your phone background now

hongseok told you to change it to hui as a joke once but you guys were both like

no,,,,,,,shinwon might actually cry

jinho basically adores you because you actually do your work and try to help improve shinwon

but he’s also big brother mode where he’s like shinwon you better not screw this up or i will end you :)

yuto silently agrees - so does basically everyone else

jealous shinwon is ,,,,,,, like a yappy baby puppy

wooseok visits campus - a younger friend of the groups and he doesn’t know you’re dating shinwon

but he thinks you’re SOOOOOOO cute and tells everyone and shinwon just goes huffy like

“no. mine.” and wooseok is like oh ok-

shinwon: “see my phone wallpaper - it’s us kissing. see these sneakers - it was a gift from them on our anniversary - see this bracelet on their wrist? i made it and -”

everyone: OK SHUT UP

you finished your old sketchbook and you wanted to throw it out - but shinwon salvaged it and sometimes he opens it and traces the sketches you did of him

and he just,,,,,,,,,,feels so good knowing you’ve loved him for a while - and he thought he’d never have something so real and powerful

you once jokingly tell shinwon as you’re sitting cross-legged across from him in the park that you used to say you were a tiny star and he was a milkyway

and he just blinks and shakes his head

“no - if im a milkyway, you’re my entire galaxy.”

and then hung his head because OK CORNY but it’s true,,,,,,it’s so true

shinwon is always opening up the world for you - from music to art to whatever

he’s still your muse - even if he’s your boyfriend

but now instead of having to see him from all these miles away - like he’s some untouchable force

he’s sitting beside you

strumming on his guitar, hair messy and only an arms length away

you lean over and kiss his neck and he chuckles as he continues to play and you continue to sketch

only to realize some things never change

the page full of shinwon, and his heart is full of you ~

#pentagon scenarios #pentagon au #pentagon imagines #shinwon scenarios #shinwon imagines #shinwon au #shinwon #pentagon #ptg scenarios #ptg au #ptg imagines #college au #writing commissions #this really ......... helped me

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redrebecca · 5 years

Text

Fussy Eaters

Because trying to feed two toddlers is always a team effort

Warning(s): None

A/N: This had been in my docs for ages but i've finally got it finished so its all good now. Feedback is appreciated, have a god day!

Words: 1.8k

You gritted your teeth in frustration, a long staggered breath rushing from your nose as you resisted the urge to tug every single strand of your hair out.

“Raul, baby, please just eat some.” You moved the nemo themed spoon closer to his sealed lips but he turned his head the other way, effectively stopping you and the spoon in its tracks.

You dropped the spoon back into the bowl of Raul’s untouched tomato pasta and sighed in defeat. Usually he would eat it at such a speed you wondered whether he actually had a chance to taste it but tonight he wasn’t playing ball. So instead of having a night recovering from your stressful work shift curled up in your fluffy pyjama bottoms and one of your husbands old t-shirts, you were trying (and failing) to negotiate with a three year old. A situation you never thought you would find yourself in. “C’mon you need to eat something, I even put in extra cheese. You love extra cheese!” You hoped Raul would see the heaped amount of cheese in the pasta and maybe, just maybe eat a spoonful or two. But no, the toddler barely spared you a glance, never mind the pasta. You sat back in your chair and put your head in your hands.

Out of all your qualities he had to inherit your stubbornness.

Once you had regained your composure, you removed your hands and leaned forward so you were closer to where he was sat, small arms crossed against his chest and a pout. Just as you were about to grab onto the spoon, you stopped short as you noticed that the boy in the adjacent highchair had abandoned his fork (you were yet to trust Raul with anything remotely sharp) in his bowl.

“Leo,” You said slowly, your hand was still hung mid-air, just above Raul’s spoon, before you started to move it. He looked from his brother to you. “Why aren’t you eating?” You could actually feel your patience wearing away as each second ticked by. Oh the joys of parenting. He could sense the tension in your voice as you spoke and thought it best to stay quiet. “Leo Elijah Mendes, why aren’t you eating your pasta?” Even at his young age you could see the realization that you had just used the ‘full-name-card’ on him flash in his blue eyes.

“I don’t want it.” He mumbled, his eyes darting between you and his brother, who seemed blissfully unaware of your slowly increasing heartbeat and how your knee was starting to bounce.

“Tomato pasta is your favourite.” You said in a strained voice that was several octaves higher than it usually would be. Leo avoided your pleading gaze and focused on the designs on his fork, not wanting to upset his mum anymore. Raul, however, must have missed the memo Leo had gotten.

“I want something else.” He said, pushing his bowl to the opposite side of the tray. You looked over at him, silently willing him to eat his dinner and hopefully stop your hairs from growing grey – because by the rate they were testing you at recently, your hair would resemble that of an 80 year old by the time you reached 35.

“If you eat three big spoonfuls you can have something out of the biscuit tin.” You stood up and walked over to the sink, already knowing your efforts were wasted on the boys.

“I want ice cream!” Raul exclaimed, clapping his hands together and blatantly ignoring your offer.

“And I want a big glass of wine.” You muttered to yourself as you focused on calming your breathing down to a more sustainable rate.

Behind you, you heard the door to the kitchen open. You didn’t have to wonder who it was – the twins chorus of greeting their dad was all you needed to know that Shawn was the person who entered. “Hey boys.” He said, no doubt ruffling their hair. Moments later you felt the familiar pressure of his hand on your back and turned towards him, pressing your forehead into his t-shirt. He rubbed a hand up and down your back. It amazed you how such simple actions from Shawn could soothe you in seconds as you focused on the random patterns he was drawing along your spine. It was the low grumble of your stomach that pulled you back to reality. You huffed into his shirt at the thought of having to bargain with Raul once again. You weren’t entirely sure how a three year old had gained a higher position in the hierarchy than you, but he held all the cards (theoretically, of course. The last time his Aunty Aaliyah had given him a pack of cards he was adamant that he had to put every single one into his bottle of juice. Now the Mendes household owns a blackcurrant-stained pack of cards).

“Honey, have you eaten?” You shook your head and met his gaze, only to see the worry that clouded his brown eyes.

“I’m gonna get something after I get these two to eat, so don’t bother cooking for me.” You kissed his nose, loving the smile you received when you pulled back.

He glanced at the boys and stiffened. You noticed his sudden tension and turned to look where the twins were. Here we go again, you thought and rushed towards the two. “Raul do not throw your pasta!”

It had been twenty minutes, twenty torturous minutes since you had attempted to feed them. And in those twenty minutes you had achieved absolutely nothing. By this time, the pasta had turned so cold that there was no way the boys would eat it, so it was fair to say you were running out of options. The sound of the chair next to you being pulled out made you turn your head. Shawn put his plate down on the table and kissed your forehead before he sat down, scooting his chair closer to yours so he was in what he liked to call ‘kissing distance’. You sent him a tired smile and thanked him for the sip of his water he offered you.

“Dadda?” Raul’s voice caused both you and Shawn to look over. Shawn brought the glass away from his mouth and swallowed before answering.

“Yeah bud?”

“Can I have some?” Shawn’s eyebrows were furrowed as you glanced at him to see whether he had understood what his son was talking about. His facial expression complying that, like you, he had no idea what Raul was asking for

“What do you want?” Shawn asked, waiting patiently for him to explain. But his only response was pointing his little index finger to Shawn’s chicken and rice. It was almost comical the way you and Shawn looked up from his plate and to each other. He raised an eyebrow, to which you responded with a nod. He scooped a small piece of chicken with a few grains of rice onto his spoon and motioned for Raul to lean closer, to which he complied without any hesitation and opened his mouth. You stared in shock as you watched him willingly munch on the food. Why couldn’t he have done that earlier?

He clapped his hands and squealed. “More, more, more!” Shawn looked at you sceptically, ensuring that you were okay with Raul eating something that wasn’t his pasta. If this had happened about an hour earlier, you would’ve said no, but you were so exhausted that you weren’t bothered as long as they ate something. So you stood up to grab two bowls from the cabinet before returning to your seat. Shawn split his meal in half and handed the boys their new dishes. You both watched in surprise as they happily ate their food as if they hadn’t been completely refusing to eat at least 5 minutes earlier.

Shawn wrapped his arm around you and pulled you so close to his side that you were sat on his chair instead of yours. “Do you want me to order a pizza?” You nodded without hesitation into his shoulder – the idea of junk food sounding very appealing. But he didn’t move to grab his phone and try to find the local pizza delivery menu that was somewhere in the large stack of clutter that was in the drawer, instead he only held you closer. “What type of pasta were you trying to feed them?” He murmured into your ear, his hand brushing up and down your arm.

“Tomato” You mumbled into his shirt, your voice was barely audible but you could tell he heard by the snicker that left his lips.

“You thought my boys would eat tomato pasta?” He tutted. You lifted your head off your shoulder to send him a scolding look.

“I think our boys would love tomato pasta if their dad didn’t say how much he hated tomatoes at every,” You poked his side, making him squirm. “Single,” Another poke. “Opportunity.” He had grabbed your writs to restrict you from prodding him anymore. He shrugged, brushing off the blame,

“They’ve just got particular tastes.” You eyed him in an attempt to fathom whether or not he had intentionally quoted his own song. The mischievous glint in his eyes and the way the wrinkles appeared at the corners confirmed your suspicions. You shook your head with mock disappointment which evoked a hearty chuckle from him.

“What a loser.” You teased

“At least I’m not the one who married a loser.” He quipped. The smug look on his face was all you needed to know that he thought he had delivered the comeback equivalent of checkmate. But you spotted the loophole and ran with it. After all, his ego was getting to big.

“Aww baby!” You cooed in a high pitch voice. Shawn’s eyebrows furrowed – it definitely wasn’t his desired reaction. You pressed a kiss to his nose and plastered a sickly sweet smile onto your face which only deepened the crease along his brow. You leant in closer to him. “You just insulted yourself and complimented me, good one honey.” You patted his shoulder and untangled yourself from his arms to start the search for the pizza delivery leaflet.

“What I meant was- ”

“Nah-uh Shawnie, you said what you said. No backsies dude.” Your smug grin only widened when you heard his loud huff from his chair, but he quickly occupied himself with checking on the boys so you continued to rifle through the chaos that was your kitchen drawer. That was until the Canadian voice broke through the peace once again,

“Hey! Did you seriously ‘dude’ me?”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fluff #dad!shawn #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn x you #shawn x reader #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn peter raul mendes

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journeytuann · 5 years

Text

Drabble: Experimentation || Mark Tuan (GOT7)

Summary- upon figuring out your dirty little desires, Mark decides to pursue them, making your lustful dreams come true

Warning?- smut, agoraphilia (the enjoyment of fooling around in public)

Word count: 3,669

P.S. feel free to drop a request, I appreciate you reading! Have a good day and enjoy~

—————

During the ungodly hours of the am, you sat in bed with your significant other, a smile coaxed to your tired lips as you could hear him giggle like a school boy. Mark had recently gotten back from the americas, his body horribly jet lagged. But in truth, you didn’t mind being up with him for you missed all the time that was robbed form your relationship thanks to his idol status. But you understood.

Asides from catching up, you both darted into random conversation, spitting out whatever came to your mind. Some things were random, others were sweet, yet others were vulgar and utterly suggestive.

“Hey (y/n)...” Marks sleep deprived voice called out. You could hear the smile growing on his lips. “I never really asked.. do you have any kinks? Or you know.. fantasies?..”

Out of all the questions this kid could have asked, that was one that threw you off a bit. You mentally had to skim through which ones were on the table for discussion. Your silence in thought led to Mark bugging you. “Did you die?” He joked, getting a nudge from you in response.

“I’m thinking.” You hummed out. “I mean.. I enjoy the way you mark me up in bed..” you trialed off, hearing a small whine come from your boyfriend.

Mark shifted closer to you, letting his face burry into your neck, delivering a small nip to tender spot which sent tingling shivers down your back, bothering your sorer core from activities earlier that day. “Not what I mean.. I already new that kitten.. it’s a dead give away. Ah especially the way you melt and moan when I do, I’m interested about the ones locked away..” he hummed, bringing himself closer to you as he propped his head on your chest.

With a small sigh you gave in, picking one that always interested you. Just the thought sent an arousing tingling sensation. “I suppose the idea of fucking in public sounds fun.” You admitted bluntly. “Okay not just plain out fucking but.. maybe at least fooling around.. no one having the slightest clue of what we’re doing..” as you elaborated, slightly bashful, you could feel mark chuckle softly.

“Mm, Fair, I’ll keep it in mind.” Was his only response. Before you had time to ask him a daunting question in return, Mark changed the subject. “Do you think I could pull off pastel pink hair..? What about a mullet..”

- - -

Time seemed to pass with ease and eventually you two night owls managed to get to a normal sleeping schedule.. somewhat. You weren’t going to lie, it was good having mark back home, you missed not only the affection but the sex as well. What? Who could blame you, Mark was certainly one hell of a ride. Literally.

Your attention was pulled from your phone as mark tossed a blank box into your lap. “Babyyy.. we’ve spent the whole week inside, tonight I want to go out and eat, plus the boys invited us for dinner at the new Korean BBQ that opened down the ways.” His innocent plead was tempting, but frankly you were just about bored of staying at home doing nothing.

“Fine by me, but what is this?” The tone of your voice expressed clear confusion as you held up the box, giving a shake as if to figure it out.

“Hm?” Mark held an innocent face, not giving light to your question one bit. “Ah, you’ll find out, I just want you to wear it to dinner tonight if you don’t mind.” Before you could ask your question again, Mark was off jogging upstairs shouting down at you to be ready by 5:30. “Oh! I’m taking a shower first before you use up all the hot water!” The boy chimed innocently with a small laugh.

You sighed, shaking your head with a smile, why did you love that absolute child again? As curiosity beckoned you, your fingers eagerly popped open the box, soon becoming muddled with this pink, oddly shaped object. Then it hit you. “Holy fuck, Mark you kinky bastard..” you grumbled to yourself, your face flooding with heat.

- - -

That smile of purity. God you hated it. How on earth could the man act so innocent as he conduced such sin??

“Ready to go?” Mark chirped, looking you over with a small chuckle. “Is kitten wearing her new gift..?” for a brief moment Mark’s voice dropped to a more serious note. While you acted like you hated the little pet name, you both knew you loved it.

With a small bob of your head, you shifted slightly, not fully accustomed with the vibrator hooked on you. “Yes, and.. yes.” Was your simplistic answer, taking the hand of your boyfriends outstretched arm, lacing your fingers with one another.

The car ride was silent for the most part besides whatever was playing on the radio. It didn’t matter that much to you, your mind was racing over endless thoughts of how the night would turn out, god was it arousing to think of. Who knew Mark would actually act on your naughty desires? As if to ease yourself you have your thighs a small squeeze.

- - -

Not long after did you two arrive. Mark turned down the radio and glanced at you with a mischievous glint. “If.. if you make it tonight, I’ll reward you. But you must be quiet, I don’t care if you cum twenty times, I won’t stop it until we’re in this car, got it?” Mark asked, his pupils dilated as his eyes ran over you.

The way he talked to you, with such a serious tone turned you on. God were you his little sub.. “Well what will be my reward?” You asked daringly with a small grin.

“Hm.. I suppose anything my kitten wants. Oh, I might add, everytime you make a peep I’ll up the intensity, if I’m feeling generous I’ll lower it but it doubt it.” Mark flashes his sweet boy smile before getting out of the car, soon going to your side to take your arm and lead you in.

Once you took a seat you could feel the small vibrator slowly begin working it’s magic. It was slow but ignorable, so you indulged in conversation with a few of the other members, chuckling as bambam complained about his sugar glider. “I had plans to wear my new shirt.. but Shabu peed on it again,” the Thai boy groaned as he set his menu down.

Jinyoung snorted. “And this is why I don’t have any pets.. they just pee and poop.”

“Maybe Shabu was trying to tell you something, tell you that that shirt was not ittt!” Yugyeom chuckled as he teased bambam who just rolled his eyes.

Mark just chuckled and listened, his mind somewhere else. Occasionally Mark took a glance your way out of curiosity, he could tell you weren’t bothered which annoyed him slightly.

Not long after is the waiter come, taking everyone’s orders, asking of yours somewhere in between. As you opened your mouth to speak you felt your vibrator jump up multiple notches, so instead of clearly asking for water, a gasp left your lips. You confused the boys slightly but proceeded to apologize and quickly place your order, soon handing in your menu to the kind young man. Fuck was this getting to be a bother. For your punishment of vocalizing, even just the small gasp, Mark went up one extra notch prior to placing his order.

Jaebum questioned if you were alright, to which you gave a small nod and smile. “It’s just cramps, ah nothing to worry about.” Quite the coverup, though none of the boys would dare ask further questions about it. Mark on the other hand just grinned at your response, knowing it was a dirty lie.

Unlike before, the sensation was difficult to ignore, building up great amounts of pleasure against your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fuck..” you muttered to yourself, thankful that the place was cluttered with conversations, drowning out your small comments. The boys seemed to delve into their own conversations, all you had to do was act like you were listening.

As that coil wounded tighter and tighter, the sensation was utterly impossible to push off and ignore. That buzzer constantly going against your clit sent you over your first orgasm, drawing a small whimper from you, your hand gripping suddenly over Marks thigh. With your legs tightly crossed, your body quivered ever so slightly. Somehow you pulled it off without attention on you, but Mark, with his cocky grin, turned up the setting another notch. “Markk..” you whined just for him to hear, letting him know clearly how much this was getting to you.

Mark didn’t comment, instead your vibrator just went up in intensity once again.

By the time the food got here you already passed your third climax and soon onto your fourth. Hopefully the food was something that would be able to properly distract you, hopefully. To a degree that was true, shoving your face with food drowned out your struggles and whimpers of over stimulation.

Growing full, you were nearly done with your food and off your fifth orgasm of the night and mark was bored and finished with his food. So to fule his amusement Mark, without reason, set the vibrator on its near-max setting.

All of a sudden the intense pulses against your throbbing clit made your squeal, hands quickly covering over your mouth as attention was put on you. Youngjae expressed worry for your being. “Is it that bad (y/n)..? I’m sorry,” Youngjae frowned, unaware your periods were this bad. Your hazy mind was confused partially at what Youngjae was even talking about before you recalled your comment earlier. Ah poor innocent sunshine, little did he know. You assured him it was alright with the best smile you could muster, your body tensing and shaking the slightest over the intense buzzing. “Maybe they have a chocolate dessert that will make it a bit better?” Bambam suggested, asking for a dessert menu form a waiter, soon on the look to fulfil your lie.

Out of all the other members, Jackson was the only one smirking. He had bold suspicions that fit the puzzle perfectly. But that certainly was none of his business. Oh though it was certain he would be teasing and taunting Mark for this later.

You on the other hand played along best you could, listening partially to the boys as they discussed about desserts, asking which sounded best. “Just uh.. pick something cheap that looks good?” Jokes on you bambam picked out the most expensive one. “If it’s pricy it means it ought to help right?” Which was bambam’s philosophy..

You gave a scoff, squeezing your eyes tight. Fuck number six. Your jerked slightly, your hand grabbing onto Marks which previously rested on your thigh, keeping it apart from the other on purpose. With the vibrator finally set at its highest pulsing rate, you brought Marks hand up to your lips, propping your elbows on the table for dear support.

Mark bit back the growing smirk as he sat up, changing hands so the other one could rub your back. “You want it to stop?” He asked for your ears only, dropping to that tone that sent shivers up your spine.

“N-no.” Was squeaked out from your lips, pushing deeper into Marks hand. Lucky high number seven was coming and well, this time it was crowned sweeter than ever. The scent of his cologne on his wrist was getting to you, making the whole sensation more surreal, more personal.

Have smelt this man’s cologne before? I swear to you it’s heavenly.

You swore it made the whole experience fifty shades more pleasurable. In fact, had his cologne always smelled this sexy? You didn’t care now, your mind focused on his blissful smell as you were dragged out on another high, trying to suspend it for as long as humanly possible. You were quite sure if you could handle another wave like this.. maybe tapping out after this would be for the best, because at this rate you’re about to squeak.

With your muscles tensing in preparation, Mark took note and leaned over. “Cum.” He demanded, pressing his lips into your temple and pulling you into his chest, holding you tight as you rocked though that seventh high. The scent of his cologne embedded in his sweater was much stronger, giving everything an extra kick. Your body shuddered, growing limp against his, allowing him to brush his hands through your hair.

“Mark, is (y/n) okay?” Jinyoung asked, utterly worried. Mark gave a small bob of his head. “(Y/n)’s cramps are really bad this month.. I think we’ll go home, maybe later this week we can catch up again. Is that alright? I know all she wants to do is lay in bed right now with her heating pad.” He teased you, gently ushering you to your feet which trembled, struggling to stand. The vibrator was turned down a hair but nonetheless kept fucking with your beyond neurotic clit.

The boys gave their soft goodbyes, soon down two friends and left with a cake that was initially set to be for you.

A cake was the least of your worries or thoughts in general at the moment. Your whole mind was left in a steamy, lustful puddle just like your panties. Upon being helped into the car the buzzing stopped. Mark decided to let you recoup as he was in a hurry to get home. Your senses gradually game back and wow were you spent. That night could certainly linger in your thoughts later.. There was a pinch of guilt in doing it, lying to your friends about what’s as going on, and honestly probably ignoring them as the pleasure was too much at times.

The car ride was short, and before long Mark had you inside, pushed up against the wall. It was clearly evident Mark had gotten off to seeing you like that, given the hard spot grinding into your sensitive core. Marks lips were quick to reach yours, attacking them in a messy manner while his hand fished out the device. Forcefully, Mark pried himself away from you, his eyes lusted over staring directly into yours. Not for a second did he break the eye contact as the toy was brought to his lips, sucking on the ridges that dripped with your taste. Such a naughty sound left his lips. “Fuck.. kitten you taste so good.. daddy’s babygirl did so good in public.. I’m proud,” he scoffed, tossing the toy off on some counter. “But next time I will be hands on..”

The idea of future fooling around excited you, but the thoughts were cut short as Mark pushed back into you. “Daddy might not have shown it.. but watching you quiver.. trying not to moan.. it all made me a hard mad man in there.. if I had zero control I’d of fucked you on the table right then and there.” His words were so vulgar yet you loved it.

“I can see that..” your mumbled off, your hand reaching down to apply pressure to the evident bulge down there. Seeing, no, feeling what you had done gave you a sense of empowerment, to do such a thing to him without even trying.

Mark groaned at your touch, his hips bucking for more satisfaction instinctively. “You will fucking feel it I promise you..” he growled, soon commanding you to jump on his waist to which you complied.

Your lips were on his neck, leaving as many horrid marks as you could before Mark would get to you. You knew the more you worked him up the more things he’d do to you.

It wasn’t long till your body was tossed on the bed, your jeans tugged off eagerly by the fellow brunette. “God look at the mess you made.. so soaked..” he muttered, rubbing two digits against the wet fabric before sliding it off, leaving your bottom half fully exposed. “Tell me what you thought of.. did you think of me?” Mark questioned, slowing bowing his head as his tongue darted between your folds, gathering most of what you left him.

His actions made your legs instinctively quiver, your whole body shaking each time his nose or lips brushed against your clit. “You.. yes you, all I could think of was you doing this to me, pushing me to the edge over and over again..” You breathed out, your hands clenching the fabric of the bed as if to steady yourself. “And that dumb cologne of yours.. it fucked me up and sent me to cloud nine..” you mumbled out truthfully.

Mark could only chuckle to your response, praising you for your honesty. However what really made Mark laugh was your response to flicking your clit. You yelped, shooting up with a whimper, bringing your legs closed shut which in turn made Mark grumpy. “No ma’am.” Your boyfriend growled, ripping your legs apart as his head bowed down to your heat, his lips instantly attaching themselves to your clit. Whimpers left your parted lips as mark showed no mercy to you. Moans spilled, precious moans that made mark go harder on your poor bud. Moans that you had desperately held back prior till now.

Mark pushed you through and eight orgasm as you gripped to his hair, trying to get him to go easy on your poor cunt. To your assurance, mark pulled from you with a pop, scoffing at your exhausted frame. “What number was that?” He asked. “8.” You shot back without missing a beat. Your chest heaving up and down as you from down from this sweet bliss. You knew damn well it would hurt to walk later but did you care? Nope. Not one bit.

Mark was soon on you, lips roaming your skin, not leaving a spot untouched on your neck. His nimble fingers worked through your shirt, managing to get the fabric off, following the rest of your articles, tossing them about, half landing at the end of the bed, the other half on the floor. The cold air was soon to bite you, your nipples clearly expressing their chill. With a small whine and tug of Marks clothing, Mark pulled away from you to strip himself of his layers, earning a satisfied grin on your face.

Before you knew it, Mark was exposed to you yet again. You could never really get enough of him, and boy did you love what he constantly hid under baggy clothing, such a fine tuned body.

Mark followed your eyes down his body, stopping at his stiffened member which was at clear salute. You wasted no more time in bringing him back down to you, letting his body press against yours as his hips shifted between your thighs. Mark gave into your inviting lips, kissing them with a fiery hunger, hands roaming to your hips to keep them in place before soon moving down, marking your neck with bruises and bites sure to last. There wasn’t a time that you weren’t decked in hickeys and bites after sex, maybe quickies here and there but Mark was always sure to leave you with something to linger.

Your impatience was growing, Mark could tell by the way you squirmed under him for some friction. “Beg kitten..” He asked of you, biting down on one of your hardened buds before swirling his tongue around it.

Begging was embarrassing to a degree but Mark loved to hear you, and frankly adored when you grew desperate for his cock, showing it vividly with your words. “Mark..” You whined, bucking your hips which mark presses his fingers deeper into. “Please.. please fuck me, fuck me so hard I can’t see straight. The whole night I was buzzed off some damn vibrator but I want your damn dick.” You groaned in annoyance at first but soon it spilled to be an out right moan. “Fuck!” You cursed, dropping your head back as Marks whole length burrowed inside you. A moment passed before he was at it, working his movements, rolling his hips quick into yours. It may have caught you off guard but you were quick to fall in love with the rhythmic movements of your hips colliding together, locking your ankles behind his back as you worked to match his movements.

Small grunts and groans left the lips of Mark, dirty slurs slipped past his them which he distracted on your skin. Mark plucked, sucked, bit and nipped at your neck, pushing out lewd noises from your lips in addition to the moans spilling out about his cock.

You were so spent, you were falling fast and mark could feel it, your walls clenching so tight around his hard girth with each thrust. “Mark..” you warned with a whimper, your fingers gripping and digging into his back as each stroke yanked you closer and closer over pleasure pier. The only thing you got from him was a grunt of ‘I know’ and the accompaniment of harder and quicker thrusts.

In a matter of seconds you came undone, clenching to your significant other as you shook through your orgasm. Proceeding to ride out your high, Mark slowed his pace down before pulling himself out, falling down onto your heaving chest.

Instead of a long silence, you heard Mark break the thick air with his soft chuckle. “Well.. that was fun..” the boy hummed in his childish tone before leaving a few lazy kisses on your skin. You gave him a small slap on his back for the comment.

“I swear I won’t walk straight in the morning..” you groaned out, brushing your sweaty hands through his messy hair.

“Ha,” mark mocked before shifting up to give your jaw a gentle kiss. “I’d push for round two in the shower.. but I doubt you could even stand for it.” He teased with a snicker.

“Oi! Bitch bet. Just.. just give me five minutes.” You muttered, pushing his face away playfully from yours.

“Oh that’s a bet, your ass got off like what? Nine times? And I haven’t gotten off-properly- once?” He asked in a clear teasing matter before rolling above you only to pamper his kitten with kisses. “Five minutes.” He told you with his sleazy grin.

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losingmymindtonight · 6 years

Note

So like, Peter having a Razor scooter and then Tony wanting to be a part of the fun and getting one too.

“Aw.” Tony held up a pair of Iron Man pajamas, grinning as widely as if he’d found a rare treasure. “Cute, kid.”

“Hey.” Peter blushed, snatching them away from his mentor and carefully storing them in the box they’d dedicated for things to keep. “Don’t mock me.”

“Don’t worry, Pete. I’d never mock my biggest fan.”

They were standing in the Parker’s small storage compartment on the outskirts of the city, going through years worth of items that had piled up. Neither May nor Peter had been in it since Ben died, but now the facility was closing, which meant that they had to go through everything.

Which meant that they had to sort through dozens of bins weighed down with memories, marked by pieces of duct tape bearing Ben’s messy scrawl.

Peter had dreaded it, and the fact that he could see May dreading it too made him dread it even more.

A never-ending cycle of dread and repeat.

That was, until Tony broke it by offering to help.

Peter had nearly cried with relief when he’d offered that he and Peter could go through the items together.

“You’ve got enough to worry about, May.” His mentor had offered with a charming grin. “The kid and I can handle it. It’ll be a fun boy’s activity. You’d like that, right Pete?”

And so far, he had liked it. They’d eaten greasy fast food while leaning against the outside of the storage shed, summer breeze tugging at their clothes. They’d taken a few breaks to play Uno on a stack of rib-height boxes. Tony had even brought a speaker, and they’d played loud 80s music while shifting through piles and piles of anything from school trophies to dishtowels.

Peter had dreaded these excursions at first. Had dreaded the concept of stumbling across thoughts he didn’t want to think.

Now, though, he loved the trips. Loved the hours of comfortable banter that they threw lazily around the shed. Loved the sunshine, the music, the comfortable silence.

He could face the boxes crammed with ghosts, so long as Tony was standing at his side.

As if sensing the solemn direction of his thoughts, the man he’d just been thinking about poked him in the side with a yardstick. “Why do you have, uh,” he held up three more, a look of indignation on his face, “four yardsticks? Who needs four yardsticks?”

Peter laughed. “I think Ben got them free when an old Home Depot shut down.”

“That still doesn’t excuse it.” His mentor shifted a box, peeing into it. His face instantly lit up into a grin. “Jackpot.”

“What?” Peter’s head snapped up, suddenly on high alert. “What did you find?”

“Nothing.”

“Mister Stark.” He moved to yank the box away, but Tony pulled it back, grin only growing.

“Oh, kiddo. You were so cute with that bowl cut.” He tugged out a photo and held it up. “Ever thought of going back to that style?”

“Oh no. Is that a box of…?”

“Yep. Embarrassing childhood photos.” He shifted through a few more stacks, face softening from mischief to fondness. “You had braces? And glasses? Oh my god, you were adorable.”

“I’m actually begging you to stop.”

Tony continued as if Peter had never spoken. “There are tapes in here, too. This is the best day of my life.” He selected one, and glanced at the label. “Peter B. Parker. End of Year Performance. 2005.”

“I’ll do anything. I’ll wash one of your cars. I’ll play sick and get you out of one of those board meetings you hate. I’ll-”

“Peter B. Parker. First Soccer Tournament. 2006.” Somehow, his mentor’s smile got even bigger. “Peter B. Parker. Halloween: Iron Man. 2007.”

“Mister Staaaark.” He dragged out his mentor’s last name petulantly. “Please.”

Tony relented, setting the box aside. “I’ll spare you for now, kiddo. But don’t think we aren’t watching those later.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He tossed a stuffed rabbit in his direction. “Yes, I do.”

Tony threw an old, peeling soccer ball back. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I-”

He stopped dead when he saw what Tony had just pulled out from where it had been wedged between a stack of bins and an old Science Fair poster board.

His mentor grinned. “A Razor scooter, huh? Wow, Pete. You never told me you were a cool kid.”

“Oh my god!” Peter lunged for the scooter, childlike excitement jumping in his chest. “I wondered where that went! Uncle Ben got it for me at a Police Auction.”

Tony smiled gently, understanding the weight of the reference as he passed the old toy over. “Wanna keep it, then?” He winked. “Maybe Spider-Man can re-brand himself as a scooter riding viglante. Leave the webslinging in the past. Now this is how you get around in style.”

Peter giggled, using the few feet of empty space around his feet to coast for a second. “It is pretty cool. More people should use them.”

“They should.” Tony crossed his arms, expression leaking with a kind of parental indulgence. “Know any tricks?”

His face fell a little as he pondered the question. “No. I-I never really rode it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the best part was supposed to be scootering around with your friends, y’know?” Peter shrugged, trying to conceal the childish pang of rejection. “I didn’t, well, have friends. Not really.”

Tony frowned, hand clenching like he wanted to reach for Peter but had stopped the motion before it could begin. “What about Ned?”

“I didn’t meet Ned until Middle School, Mister Stark.”

“Well,” Tony said, taking the scooter from his hands and setting it beside the box of photos and tapes, “we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

A text popped up on Peter’s lockscreen early the next day.

TS: Meet me in the lab at 3:30. It’s important.

That afternoon, he’d rushed to the Tower in a flurry of excitement, possibilities jumping around in his head like heated popcorn kernels. Was it a mission? A new project with one of the suits?

The first thing he noticed when he ran into the lab was that it was empty.

Like, completely empty.

All the work tables had been taken somewhere. The only evidence of the old layout was the beaten up couch, still pressed in the corner of the room.

And sitting on the couch was Tony Stark himself, a lazy grin on his face as he watched Peter’s bemusement.

“Uh, Mister Stark?”

“Yes, Mister Parker?”

He took a few steps in his mentor’s direction, eyes still sweeping around the barren room. He hadn’t realized how big the space was before, with all the clutter. “What, uh, what did you do to your lab?”

Tony stood, then, and pulled two Razor scooters out from behind the couch. A brand new one, and Peter’s old one. “I made us a makeshift scooter arena.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Tony Stark, on a Razor scooter? “You can’t be serious.”

“I never learned how to ride one either, Pete.” He shoved the worn handles into Peter’s hands. “So, we’ll learn together.”

“It’s not hard, Mister Stark.” He pushed off, and glided a few feet before stopping. “You just do it.”

Tony followed, purposefully bumping into Peter but snapping a protective arm out to steady him when he wobbled. “Yeah? Wanna race, then?”

I can’t believe that this is my life.

Despite the thought, his face lit up with a playful grin. “Oh, you’re on.”

They ended up splayed out on the couch, sweaty and tired but still smiling like little kids. Peter’s hair was curling in a way that would have made him self-conscious just a year ago. Now, however, he just basked in the looks of obvious affection that Tony was shooting his way.

Tony threw a lazy arm over his shoulders. “Have fun, Pete?”

“Yeah.” He rolled his head so that he was looking up at his mentor’s face. “Thank you.”

A pause. Then, a voice filled with something quiet yet genuine. “You’re welcome, kid.”

They sat in a silence for a while, happy to just breathe and exist and be contented by each other’s presence.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Peter leaned forward and riffled around in his pockets before pulling out a folded piece of paper. “This is for you.”

“Oh?” Tony took it from his hand without a second thought. “You got me a present?”

“I didn’t really get it, exactly.” He shifted awkwardly as the man unfolded the paper. “You can throw it out, if you want.”

He studied the drawing even as Tony did. The childish lines, scrawled out in crayon. Iron Man, flying over a shoddy New York skyline. The message, letters big and blocky in the way only children could accomplish.

My favorite superhero is Iron Man. He is the best and bravest superhero. I love him.

Peter Parker

His mentor blinked a few times, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, he tugged the teenager back into his side, ruffling his sweat-damp hair in the process.

“Throw it out?” His gaze flickered between the smeared crayon and Peter’s hopeful eyes. “There’s gotta be laws about defacing pieces of classic art, kid. And do I look like I’d survive in jail?”

#irondad fluff fest #losingmymindtonight writes #you guys had so many amazing prompts #that I decided to just work my way through all of them as best as I can #so get ready for WAYYYY too much substance-less fluff #hold onto your hats #this is gonna be a wild ride #irondad #spiderson #tony & peter #tony stark #peter parker #don't tag this as st*rker

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keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

FIC: Fragile Things (ch1, baon)

Summary: It’s been a very long week

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The sofa was empty when Edge first walked in from work, the television dark and silent. He took the time to hang up his coat and set his briefcase by his desk before calling up the stairs. “Stretch?”

No reply. It was not entirely a surprise. The past two days Stretch had been late coming home, working on some sort of project in the lab right up until dinnertime. He hadn’t mentioned what it was yet, but again, that was hardly unusual. For every project that he wanted to discuss in fine detail there was another that would be kept behind whatever mental embargo that Stretch put on it, until he’d worked his way past his own set of checkpoints enough to bring it up.

Strange that it didn’t seem to matter how important a project was, whether it was a secret one for Asgore or something ridiculous he was designing for the neighborhood children. Stretch had a certain goalpost that all his work needed to reach before he’d talk about it, some mental scale that needed to balance. It made Edge wonder how many were languishing down in his lab, exiled until such a time that they qualified.

Whatever it was, Edge was honestly looking forward to hearing about it. Not that he’d understand most of what he was told, but that hardly mattered. What he wanted was to see Stretch talking about it, the animated way he spoke with his hands, the flash of his grin and the bubbling excitement that always came when he’d made some sort of breakthrough.

He’d been tired but pleased all week so it must be going well. Perhaps today Edge would finally get to hear about the finer points. Until then, he took advantage of the empty house to turn on his preferred music station, contemplating dinner and perhaps dessert. There was a little time for him to come up with something.

It was easy to lose himself in the rhythm of cooking, chopping vegetables and setting a pot on to boil water for rice. Vegetable curry sounded delicious, it was a meal he made often since Stretch liked it as well, and it would come together quickly.

The heady aroma of spice filled the air and he breathed it in contentedly, soft magic filling his mouth. Lunch had been some time ago and he hadn’t had time to even grab a muffin, trying to keep up with both his own work and Janice’s. It was difficult to resist the urge to work through lunch as it was, the temptation lingering in the back of his thoughts, demanding that he not fall behind.

Learning to ignore that voice had taken him years and Edge wasn’t about to start obeying it now. Exhausting himself would do favors for no one and the other teams were more than happy to take on little extra work until Janice returned. He didn’t have to do everything on his own and time enough to eat his lunch was little enough to ask.

By the time the rice was done, fluffy and steaming, and the curry in a serving dish, it was nearly seven. Edge frowned at the clock, niggling concern starting to replace hunger. Stretch was never this late, even on his most distracted days.

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text, letting Stretch know that dinner was ready, if he could please pull himself from his work long enough to eat it before it got cold. No reply; the flag beneath it stayed at delivered but never changed to read.

Food forgotten, Edge pulled up the tracking app. As he’d guessed, it said Stretch’s phone was down the road, at his brother’s house where his lab was still downstairs. When he’d moved in, the lab had remained since Stretch hadn’t wanted to go through the effort of dismantling everything to move it when he could shortcut the distance easily from their living room. It had its own entrance, a safety precaution against fumes, and Blue hadn’t minded, so there it stayed.

Not a problem, except if Edge wanted to visit the lab, he needed either a car or a jog.

He didn’t visit often.

With a sigh, Edge covered the serving bowls before he slipped on his boots and coat. He scooped up his keys on his way out the door, not that it was a far walk but he wanted to eat sooner than later. The drive was brief, and it was without a shred of guilt that he parked on the street rather than the driveway. As much as he liked Blue, if he caught sight of them, they’d be trapped for twenty minutes of chatting before they escaped. He was hungry, damn it, and manners could wait for another day.

The lab door was unlocked, and Edge added that to his mental list of complaints. There was a keypad for a reason, what was the point of a lock if anyone could wander downstairs at any time, whether or not they had good reason? Edge didn’t need a PhD to know that some of these experiments were delicate and one interruption could ruin weeks of work.

“Stretch?” he called as he made his way down the stairs, not wanting to startle him. The lack of reply was worrying, and he pushed aside the heavy plastic curtain in the open doorway, stepping into the lab proper.

Aside from the wild clutter of the desk which was a mess of papers and toys, a set of stuffed chickens sitting pertly in the middle, the worktables were all neatly organized, each one with a clipboard hanging on one end. Edge didn’t recognize any of the equipment or experiments, and didn’t care because Stretch wasn’t standing by any of them.

His phone was sitting on the last table and Edge started towards it automatically, only to freeze as he caught sight of a skeletal hand extending past the end of the table, fingers lax against the polished floor tiles.

“Rus?” Edge gasped, moving so quickly he stumbled over his own feet, falling with abnormal gracelessness to his knees where Stretch was sprawled out on the floor, pale and still. His sockets were closed, a thin line of marrow running from his nasal aperture was dried to maroon which meant he’d been here a while, he’d been lying here while Edge was chopping fucking vegetables, he-

Enough. Panic wasn’t going to help in the slightest and Edge pushed it aside and drawing on inner calm. Stretch wasn’t dust which meant he was alive.

A Check sent a quiver through that fragile calm, shaking him to his core. Stretch’s HP was into the decimals and his magic was vanishingly low. Edge wasn’t incapable of healing but no how much training he’d gone through, he was still terrible at it. It wasn’t an innate skill of his and with Stretch’s HP so low, it was possible trying would do more harm than good.

Any mental stability was slipping away and Edge knelt for too long, frozen in indecision, until he remembered where he was.

His fingers were shaking, he noticed distantly, pulling up his contact list and finding a number that was close to the top. It rang once, twice, and then a familiar voice answered.

Edge didn’t bother with a greeting. “Blue, I need you to come downstairs to your brother’s lab, right now, it’s an emergency—”

The phone hadn’t even disconnected when the familiar pop of teleportation came from behind him. Blue was moving before Edge could say a word, a low moan escaping him as he caught sight of his brother’s still form. Sans was at his heels, the source of his quick shortcut, and he stood back, his eye lights dim and shocked even as Blue laid his hands on his brother’s rib cage.

His hands flared, brilliant with magic and Stretch convulsed, his cry garbled and pained as healing was forced directly into his soul. His heels drummed against the floor, sneakers squeaking as he strained, arching up hard enough that his joints popped. Whether it was into his brother’s touch or a simple reflex, Edge didn’t know. He could only stand back, unable to touch for risk of that magic flowing into him instead of the intended target, his own sockets narrowed as he watched Stretch’s HP crawl back upward.

There were a few dark spots of marrow staining the front of Stretch’s sweatshirt, perfect round droplets, and Edge couldn’t stop himself from wondering vaguely if it would wash out.

Behind him, Sans was moving, and Edge glanced at him unwillingly, watching him study the worktable. There was a machine of some sort on it and that was what had Sans’s attention, softly glowing dials that Sans was looking over. He caught Edge watching him, the corners of his permanent smile curled tight and upset.

“he’s been using the magic distiller?” Sans asked sharply.

“I think so,” Edge admitted. He wasn’t certain on the name, but he knew what the machine was. Stretch had been working on a way to stabilize healing magic into a carrier, like an ointment or an oil, but that was an ongoing project Sans was supposed to have been working on with him, for Asgore. “He said it was safe.”

Sans’s expression revealed nothing, but Edge was accustomed to a much higher grade of deception.

“He lied,” Edge said flatly.

The hesitation was brief, and revealing, Sans’s eye lights flickering to the floor where Blue was starting to sweat, trickles running down the sides of his face as the glow in his hands wavered. Stretch was so terribly still again, the normal warm tint of his bones paled to starkness.

“wouldn’t say that,” Sans said, too carefully, too slow.

“Would I?”

Another hesitation but it seemed he’d reached the limits of Sans’s willingness to prevaricate. Instead, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “probably.”

A low whimper interrupted whatever he might have said, and later Edge would think that was for the best, the words hovering on the border of being spoken had been harsh, cold. Sans would have borne his undeserved anger without a complaint and he likely would have forgiven it, the circumstances being what they were. But he wouldn’t have forgotten it.

Still kneeling on the floor, Blue was panting, his own eye lights dimmed from their normal cheery stars. “That’s all I can manage,” Blue said wearily. “He’s out of danger but we need to get him to the hospital.”

Tired as he obviously was, Blue automatically started to pick him up and Edge reached out to stop him. “I’ve got him.”

Blue’s smile was weakly grateful. “I know, you take good care of him.”

“Not good enough,” Edge replied curtly. He didn’t wait for a reply, didn’t care to hear Blue trying to make excuses for any of them. Instead, he carefully lifted Stretch’s slight weight from the floor, shoving his own anguish at his stillness down, burying it beneath necessity. In his arms, Stretch was completely limp, utter deadweight that was difficult to negotiate past the stairs. Once he reached the sidewalk, Edge was forced to allow Blue to fish his keys from his pocket, Sans taking the passenger side as Edge lifted Stretch into the backseat.

With trembling gentleness, he settled Stretch in his lap, his eye lights focused on his still, silent form, Checking as often as he dared, taking what comfort he could in his unwavering HP, even with it being two points lower than his max. It was enough, he would be all right, Edge told himself. He was going to be fine, just fine, he’d recover from this, he would.

And as soon as he did, Edge was going to kill him.

-tbc-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underswap papyrus #underfell papyrus #by any other name

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m3wpudd1ng · 6 years

Text

Happy Father's Day

Words: 876

Characters: Hank and Connor (!!NOT SHIP!!))

Warnings:sad hank for like 2 seconds

tag as ship and ill steal your teeth

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

Father's Day was never fun for Hank.

It used to be one of his favorite days of the year. Cole would draw him a picture with crayons, they'd go to the park, and it would be a great, fun day.

Cole was gone now.

On Father's Day, Hank would usually sit in his room, the floor cluttered with beer bottles, a picture of Cole on his bedside table. His heart ached every time he looked at it.

Now, in 2039, things are different. Now, an android named Connor lives in his house, spends every day with him, refuses to let him drink. Hank was embarassed to admit it, but he felt like a son. He could almost fill the void that Cole left behind.

Connor knew about Cole. He found a picture on the kitchen table and filled everything in. He also knew that Hank couldn't stand Father's Day; a reminder of what Hank could no longer call himself. But Connor didn't want Hank to feel that way anymore. He wanted him to enjoy Father's Day. So he came up a plan.

A few weeks before Father's Day, Connor started getting the supplies. Fold out tables and chairs, plastic red cups, even streamers. This was gonna be what made Hank happy, at least for a few hours.

Connor first told Fowler about his plan. He wanted people to be there; to let Hank know that people cared. Fowler thought it wouldn't be worth it, Hank's never enjoyed Father's Day. But when he saw the determination in Connor's eyes, he knew it could work. Word started spreading throughout the station, all the while, being kept from Hank. Everyone was careful about Father's Day. It had been a touchy subject for the past few years. But now, everyone was slowly working it into conversation, and the station was buzzing with talk of Father's Day in a mere three days.

A week before the party, Connor arranged catering. He starting cleaning the house more. Hank wondered what was up with Connor; it was clean enough already, wasn't it? But whatever. Let Connor have his fun, he supposed.

The day came; June 19th, 2039. Connor convinced Hank to go to the store. "We're out of soap Hank, we need soap!" He didn't tell Hank that the reason there was no soap was because he threw it all onto the Detroit highway. Hank murmured some curses under his breath and left.

Initiate Operation Father's Day.

The people filed in, putting up streamers, setting up tables, putting out food, and a few even brought gifts. Scanning them, and matching them with Hank's preferences, he confirmed that Hank would enjoy all of them. Connor received a text from Hank at 7:43 P.M.

"on my way home, dont lose this shit con"

Connor laughed at that. He looked up at the full house of people.

"Hank is on his way home. I suggest finishing up and finding a hiding place."

Everyone went into a panicked frenzy. The last bowls were put out, the final streamers pinned to the ceiling, and everyone crowded behind and under furniture. Connor turned the lights out and went to stand by the door.

A few minutes passed. The lock clicked. The door opened.

"Connor, why the fuck is it so dark?"

Hank looked at his completely blacked out house. He couldn't see a thing. What the fuck...?

"Here Hank, let me get that." Connor grabbed the bag from Hank's hand, carrying it to the bathroom quickly and running back to Hank as fast as his funky little legs could carry him.

"Connor, turn the fuckin lights on."

Connor smiled.

"3, 2, 1..."

When the lights flicked on, the entire DPD emerged from their hiding spots. A chorus of "Happy Father's Day!" filled Hank's ears.

Connor looked at Hank with admiration in his eyes. "Happy Father's Day, Hank."

Hank looked like he was gonna cry. His coworkers were all there, even Reed. How the fuck did Connor get Reed to agree to this? Doesn't matter. How long had Connor been planning this? How did he keep this from Hank?

That night made Hank feel the same way those crayon drawings from Cole did. He was absolutely elated knowing that Connor did all of this for him. They talked, surprisingly, about Cole. Hank told funny stories about him, and amazingly, people enjoyed hearing it.

Connor , the angel that he was, didn't push Hank to talk. He could tell that, despite the fact that he was enjoying the attention, he was getting tired. Too many people. Eventually, people started leaving. Soon it was just Hank and Connor. Hank stared at Connor, wondering how he got so lucky. What did he do to deserve him?

"Hank, I know that with Cole, Father's Day is a sensitive thing. I just... didn't want to see you hurting over it. I wanted you to enjoy it." Connor genuinely felt like Hank was a father to him. He refrained from calling him Dad.

Hank took a step forward. "Connor... thanks." He took Connor by surprise when he pulled him into a tight embrace. He held onto Connor so tightly. "Son."

Connor didn't know that androids could cry.

Or feel happy.

Or have a dad.

He could.

#dbh #detroit become human #detroit: become human #dbh hank #dbh connor #not ship #wow i love my son #fanfiction #again. not ship #lov #fathers day

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pixie-unger · 6 years

Text

Invasion - Summer

18+ This work contains: People of colour with natural hair. Also, triggers, smut, alien sex, teratophilia, oral and doggy style… I’m likely forgetting a bunch. This was an anonymous commission. Summer was already introduced in the previous chapter and I didn’t bother to repeat her origin story. Read the whole thing on AO3

I saw Fiana leave with … her alien, but two had come into my house and there was no sign of the other one.

“Hello? Where are you?” I wandered through the living room (with 1970’s green shag carpet) to the kitchen. “Hello? Look, you can’t be here unless I invite you. Either show yourself or I revoke my invitation.”

There was a creak of the floorboards behind me.

It was an old house. It had been abandoned for a while before I moved in. I might be nothing.

I didn’t really believe that. I turned around slowly. He was in the far corner of the room, flattened against the wall. The room wasn’t that big, so he was a sort of an amorphous blob reaching from floor to ceiling. The eyes were level with mine. I swallowed nervously.

“You can be any shape, right?” There was no response. “Can you be human shaped for me?”

The blob reformed, easily a foot taller than my 5’4, with all the muscle definition of Jason Momoa.

“Oh!” I didn’t so much say it as breath it. I took an involuntary step back and bumped the 1950’s chrome table, knocking over the pepper shaker. He started to reach out to me then dropped his hand. I didn’t turn my back on him but siddled around to get a glass of water.

I took a sip then asked, “Is this the first time you’ve been in my house?”

He blinked but didn’t answer.

“What’s your name?”

The reply was a chittering croak.

“That’s…. Not something I can pronounce. You sound like a crow. Or maybe a raven. You are too big to be a crow.”

He nodded.

“If I tell you to leave, will you?”

He blinked, then nodded slowly.

“Will you stay out?”

No reply.

I shivered. “That is so creepy!”

“Pretty,” he rumbled in a voice like thunder.

“Excuse me?”

“Summer, you are so pretty. Most beautiful woman in the whole town.”

“How do you figure that?”

He took two steps forward and had me pinned to the counter. Then he carefully drew a finger along my face, almost but not quite touching my skin, then down my neck to my arm. “Pretty. Like us.”

My eyes narrowed at that. “So, when you say ‘prettiest girl in town,’ what you mean is darkest skin in town. And I’m not. There are a couple of families darker than me.”

He shook his head and faked a frown. “Not pretty little girl, beautiful woman.” His hand came back up and ghosted over my curls, “Soft. Fluffy. Beautiful.” Then he abruptly dropped his hand and backed away from me. He hung his head and whispered, “Shy.”

“I am -” then what he said actually caught up to me. “Oh. You are shy.” I thought some more. “That doesn’t make you watching me less creepy though.”

He shook his head, looking for a moment like a sullen toddler. A 6’6 sullen toddler. “Not creep. Guard! We left and you got in trouble. All of you.”

“We are doing ok.”

He snorted in disbelief. “We help. Keep you safe. Keep you fed. Keep you warm.”

“And you are going to do all of that by watching me?”

“Watch. Learn. Share. Grow.”

“What does that even mean?”

“We are watching this town to learn what humans can be.”

“And what can we be?”

“Food thieves, but sharing food. Welcoming and afraid. Complicated.”

“Yeah. You should go. I need to get ready for bed.”

“Let me stay. Please.”

“Ha! I heard about Sam and Ale. And Will. I know ‘what let me stay’ means.”

“Inkwell and Silars not hurt their persons. Omen not hurt, but scare as accident. Shadow loves Meagan, doesn’t hurt, doesn’t even touch.”

“Yeah, well Meagan is ace. Shadow touching her that way would be hurting.”

“Ace?”

“Yeah. She has all the reproductive bits but isn’t really interested in using them.” I yawned, until my jaw cracked, then looked at the clock. “You should go.”

He wasn’t looking at me any more. All of his six eyes were closed, his shape had softened a but, blurring around the edges. I couldn’t decide if he was less scary like that or more. He certainly was less human looking. After a few moments, he opened his eyes, then blinked a couple of times and looked around the room in apparent confusion. Then he saw me a did a bit of a jump scare. He firmed up his shape and squared his shoulders and focused on me.

“Is my name Crow?”

“What? I don’t know your name.”

“Name me, please?”

I scratched my shoulder. His eyes followed the movement. “I dunno. Raven?”

“Thank you, Summer. I will stay close. Keep…. I will keep … Tom away.”

Now I tensed. Did I really want a shadow monster on my porch drawing even more attention? And, “What just happened? You went all still then… did you forget where you were?”

Raven watched me for a moment. “I had not heard the word ‘ace’ used before. I asked if anyone else had heard that. We had ace as a card reference but not in that context.”

I thought about that. “So, what… you googled it or something? Your speech got better too.”

The blur was shorter this time. “Yes, not exactly google but something like that.”

“You have me cornered in here. Could you at least stop blocking the exit?”

Raven didn’t turn and walk away. He backed out of the room while looking at me. That was unnerving all on its own, watching him navigate the cluttered little room perfectly in reverse while keeping his eyes locked on me like I was prey. It was not comforting.

“You are lonely. I have seen you being lonely.”

He was through the door between the kitchen and the living room, but not actually out of my way. “Oh yeah,” I scoffed, “and what does me being lonely look like?”

I should never have asked that. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to have to watch him pantomiming something that took me too long to understand was me masturbating. “Stop! Get out! Just go!”

“You are upset?”

“You watched me…” I floundered, not wanting to actually say it. “Do that? Yes! I am upset! That is private.”

He looked puzzled. “Why?”

“What?” I demanded, pacing in the kitchen, my eyes on the floor, my hair hanging around my face so I didn’t have to look at him.

“Why is that private? Everyone does it.”

“Yeah, well everyone poops too, that doesn’t mean I want you watching that either.” He was suddenly very still and very quiet. “You watched me poop, too, didn’t you?”

“No.” It was the least convincing no I had ever heard.

Sam talked about Inkwell playing with her breasts like he had never seen anything like that before. Like a little kid, she said. Really little, like two.

“Why are you watching me?” I demanded, turning on him

He looked hard at me. All six red eyes pointed in my direction. “Helen says we must answer. I want to integrate into your family unit.”

“Is that true or is that just what Helen told you to say? And who is Helen?”

Raven seemed to consider this. “It is true. Helen in Binx’s human.”

“Who is Binx?”

“Binx discovered humans have names.”

“What? Of course we have names!”

Raven shook his head. “Names for the individual. That is… new to us. Humans need names and socialization and touch. Otherwise they self harm.” I didn’t really understand all of that, but he said it with authority. “I want to give you food and drink and shelter and names and socialization and touch. And whatever else you need not to self harm.” He looked at me, then added, “Or harm others. Man took rabbits. He didn’t need all the rabbits. He wanted to harm Leave It.” He thought some more. “Helen says Leave It isn’t a real name, but George doesn’t care because he was second to get named.”

“You don’t have names? That doesn’t sound real.”

Raven made the sound of Leave It’s dismissive snort, “It didn’t seem real when we understood that each human has its own name. You are not like us.”

“In so, SO many ways,” I agreed.

Raven nodded, “It took many many days for Helen to explain the idea of shame to Binx. We don’t experience that. Everything is shared so that we can all understand.” Then he ducked his head, “I forgot humans don’t like being always watched. I apologize. Please let me stay.”

“Ugh. Fine. But you are sleeping on the couch.”

He shook his head, “We do not sleep, but we were already aware of that in other species.” He kept watching me. I still hadn’t left the kitchen. He sighed, “Silars was lucky, Will came with instructions.”

I shook my head, “What? You aren’t making any sense.”

“Will had a book for how to pack bond. Silars just followed the directions and it worked. When she reported on her success, Helen called us all back in and yelled at us and made us all promise no one else would try that unless our person asked. It was very confusing.”

I certainly felt confused. “Go wait on the couch!” I insisted. “I need to get ready for bed.”

Raven backed up further and sat on the arm of the couch. It has also come with the house. I had to vacuum an inch of dust off of it and borrow a carpet cleaner to make it usable when I moved in. I put on my sleep shirt, washed my face and was brushing my teeth when I thought of something, “Hey! You need to brush your teeth? I don’t want you using my toothbrush!”

He shook his head. “No mouth bacteria. No rotting teeth.”

“Lucky,” I mumbled around the toothbrush.

“Can I watch you sleep?”

“No!” I thought about that some more. “Why would you want to? You have some sort of kink or something?”

He closed his eyes and did that thing again. Alien google. When he opened them, he answered, “We don’t have kink because we don’t reproduce sexually. We offer sex as a way to comfort our humans, not because of need.”

I frowned a little, “Why?”

“It makes you happy. If you want it.”

“I am too tired for this!” I rubbed my eyes and then looked back up at him. “So you don’t sleep but you want to watch me sleep and you don’t fuck but you watch me fuck and want to help? That makes no sense!”

Raven shrugged, “Makes sense to us. Our sense is different than your sense.”

“But what do you get out of it?”

Raven licked his lips with a tentacle like tongue. “Humans taste good when their bodies writhe and their hips buck and their cunt clenches or their dick spills and their feet twitch. They make the best noises, the best juices. Then they get all happy and quiet and touch us and sleep on us. WANT that.” His voice was deep enough at the best of times, but that last word came out as a growl. Then he swallowed, “I need to make you feel happy and safe to get it. I understand that I might not ever make you that happy, but I want to at least try.” He thought some more. “I will wait outside of your house. You have not really invited me in.”

“And that’s really all you want? A happy, quiet, juicy human? Shadow is going to be right out of luck.”

Raven shook his head defiantly, “Meagan sleeps touching Shadow. She likes his hugs. I can give good hugs too. Would you like try one, Summer?”

“Uh… no. I’m good thanks.”

He nodded, politely, then he left. I did a whole body shiver and locked the doors. I turn off the lights and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Then I dug out my phone. There wasn’t much of the internet left, but we still had service.

I texted Meagan, for an hour. Then I snapchatted Sam and woke her up. I could see Inkwell in the background telling her to sleep. That was a much shorter discussion. Then I messaged Ale.

“He made me breakfast in the morning, Summer! I was just too busy freaking out to notice.” She voice was a little shaky, she was talking faster than she usually did.

“Do you want him back?” I asked.

There was a long moment of pause.

“I called them back when I found out about the rabbits.”

“Wait! You did what? How does that work?”

“Remember I told you he left that little blob in a dish on my window ledge? I remembered someone saying that they could talk to each other. So I went home and found it. I took it out of the dish and held it in my hand and called for help. Omen was at my house in minutes.”

“I didn’t see him go to your house afterwards.”

“He didn’t. Everyone got a walk home, but he stopped at the sidewalk outside of my house and … I don’t even know. He went away.”

“You didn’t invited him in again?” I asked. Then I realized what I said, “I’m sorry. I don’t even know if you want him in your house.”

Ale sent me an embarrassed looking frown. “I don’t know what to do. I mean, 10 out of 10, would bang again. But I’m not sure how to react to all of this. What’s their long game?”

“Exactly!” I agreed. “If he was a guy to lurked around my house, watching me poop-”

“What?”

“Oh yeah. Turns out Raven is a regular stalker.” I could see Ale shuddering at that. “If he were a guy, I would be calling the cops. But when he said it he was so… innocent. Like he couldn’t see the problem and didn’t understand. But... also like he really wanted to. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah. I just really needed a wank and Omen offered to take care of it for me like it was no big deal. Just as calmly as I might offer to give someone a hair tie or a tampon if I saw her struggling in the bathroom.”

“Raven said they like how we taste.”

“Hmm. Omen didn’t say anything about that. It was just ‘this is what you need, I will help’.”

“Raven also said Shadow was sleeping with Meagan. But not fucking her. When I texted her to talk about this, she confirmed. Said he was warm and snuggly and never tried anything.” I considered this some more, “Think they read our browser history a head of time to know what would work?”

“Omen certainly knew all the right things to say to me.”

I snorted, “Ray could have done a lot better, let me tell you.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He got you talking about it, didn’t he?”

----

After I put my phone down, I looked at the clock. It was after two. I rolled around until three when I finally got up, stormed to the front door, wrenched it open and hissed into the darkness, “Oh for fucks sake, get in here before I change my mind.”

Raven stepped forward, darkness looming out of darkness. Red eyes locked on mine. I backed into my house as it came toward me. “Who are you?” I asked.

“Raven. Do you invite me in?”

“Um… I can’t tell you apart, Ray.”

The darkness froze. “I am not Ray. I am Raven.”

“Right! Sorry! No nicknames.”

Raven was silent as he came in and closed the door behind him. “What is nicknames?”

“Uh… other names for people. Like Ale is Alejandra.”

Raven stopped and stared down at me. He just stood there for a very long time. More than enough time to make me feel uncomfortable. I took a step back, he caught my hand. “Summer… you gave me two names?”

“Um… not exactly, it’s OK. I won’t call you that any more if it bothers you.”

“I am first to have two names.” He was quiet again, but only for a moment, “Thank you.” He said it softly, almost reverently. Then he shook himself and looked down at me, “Human’s need sleep, why do you not sleep?”

I looked hard at him, “I am going to regret this. You can stay.”

“Why would you regret?”

“Because you are too different. You aren’t going to understand something that I take for granted and I’m going to get hurt by that lack of understanding.”

He seemed to consider this, “I understand you need to sleep.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Moving very carefully, still holding my hand, he led me back to my room and tucked me in. “Sleep now, explain later, all right?”

“Okay.”

He didn’t actually leave though. He found my hand and held it, laying on the bed next to me. Which was still a little creepy, but by then I was so tired that just holding still and letting some of the tension drain away was all it took for me to fall asleep.

I awoke to the sun streaming in through the window. I rolled over, Raven was gone. I sat up and rubbed my eyes and looked around the my room. “Are you there?”

I jumped when a voice from the kitchen said, “I am here.”

I flopped down on the bed and tried to figure out why I was relieved. I guess it was because he wasn’t hiding anymore.

“Food next?”

I looked up, he was standing in the doorway. “Yeah, OK, what do you want to eat?”

He went very still. Then he ducked the question. “I will make you breakfast.”

“Do you know how to cook for a human?”

Now he looked a little nervous, “Not cook. I brought berries. You want me to cook?”

“It’s December, where did you get berries?”

“I brought them.”

I climbed out of bed, “I’m going to go wash up and brush my teeth and I’ll be there in a while.”

When I made it out to the kitchen, there was breakfast waiting for me. A bowl of the homemade yogurt, a pot of melted honey, and a plate of blueberries, strawberries and apple slices carefully arranged so they weren’t touching. I frowned at that.

“Is it wrong?” Ray asked.

“No… it’s… great. Just not what I was expecting. I haven’t had berries in a couple of months. Thank you.”

Raven knelt on the floor next to where I was sitting and put his head in my lap. I tensed. He made a sad noise, but slid over so that he was still sitting on the floor but not touching me.

“Are you going to have some of this?” He shook his head. I dipped a strawberry into the yogurt and bit the end off. Then I poured the honey into the yogurt and gave it a stir. I tried again. The second half of the strawberry and yogurt was much better. I looked over to where Ray was still watching me. “You are being creepy again.”

“I am still guarding.”

“From what?”

He shrugged. I grinned, it was an unexpectedly human gesture.

“Guarding from hunger?” he suggested.

“By sitting on the floor?”

“You smell good. Chairs are new.”

I snorted around the apple slice I was eating. “I smell like unwashed sleep shirt and -” I stopped abruptly as I realized what else I probably smelled like. I dipped my head and concentrated on my breakfast, but I couldn’t actually bring myself to take another bite. I had to ask, “All those people you took, your people took, did you eat them?”

He… laughed, but it wasn’t a human laugh. “No! Can’t eat humans! Can’t eat human food! I am not like you.”

“So what do you eat? Don’t try to tell me you are solar powered, not with those teeth.”

“Teeth are defensive. We eat our food, I can taste your food, but not live on it.”

I thought about this, “Do you want to taste my food?”

“You want to share food?”

I thought about this. “Well, you brought the food, so I guess you are actually sharing with me. Do you want to try any of this?”

“You let me taste?”

“Sure?”

He crept forward and lay his head in my lap again. “Let me taste?” he asked again.

I frowned. “Hey, there is a big difference between sharing an apple and having sex.”

He rocked back again and shook his head. “No sex, just taste. Please?” I frowned down at him. “Just touch?” His hand reached for my bare calf but stopped before he actually made contact.

“What happens if I say no?”

He immediately backed away and moved to the furthest point from where I was sitting, without leaving the room or blocking the exit. “I will not hurt you.”

I went back to eating breakfast, “What do you get out of it?”

“A name,” he said proudly. “Two names! I am named Raven. I am named Ray. Summer -” he stopped for a moment. “I want to give you good things in return.”

“You gave me breakfast.”

He shook his head, “You would have better breakfast if my people hadn’t come.”

I didn’t really know what to say to that. I finished eating in silence then took my dishes to the sink. Ray followed, watching me, but not getting too close. I looked at him. He was flawless. Like his body had been perfectly tailored for me. I was just itching to run my hands over him. “Ok. Let’s give this a try.”

He walked slowly up to me, watching my face. When he was barely an inch away, he ducked his head and sniffed my head, then nuzzled his cheek against the top of my head. He caught my chin in his hand and tilted my head up to look into my eyes, then dipped down to kiss my lips. It was gentle and sweet and when he stopped he looked at me. “Okay?”

I giggled for a moment before I got it together and nodded. He kissed my neck and licked his way down to my collar bone before cupping my ass with both hands and setting me on the counter. At this height it was easier for me to carefully trace the sculpted lines of his chest. His form was smooth and slightly pliable, but still firm, the nipples were just the same as the rest of his chest.

“Is that wrong?”

I looked up at him.I realized I was frowning. I forced myself to stop. “You didn’t quite get these right.”

“Tell me.”

I thought about how to describe the difference, then just brought his hand to cup my breast. “They are softer, but they respond to touch and temperature.”

He ran his thumb over my nipple feeling it harden through my night shirt.

“Show me? Please?”

I nodded, his hands slid down my thighs and pushed my shirt up and then pulling it over my head. Between being handled like that and the sudden colder air, my nipples crinkled right up.

“Hmm.” it was a thoughtful noise, then he ducked his head and ran a pink, wet, tentacle like tongue over my breast, swirling around my before bowing his head and giving my breast and experimental suck.

I gasped, suddenly tightening my grip on his arms.

He stopped and looked at me. “Hurt?”

I shook my head, “That was nice.”

“Hmm.” He leaned in and kissed my mouth again, this time dipping his tongue briefly into my mouth.

I gave it a careful suck. His hands tightened a little on my breasts before coming up to cup my head and kissing me hard, sucking on my lips, licking and tasting me. His hands trailed down my back, cupping and squeezing my ass. He kiss a trail down my neck, over my chest, then dropped to his knees between my legs.

“Please?” it was just about the most reverential whisper I had ever heard. I nodded and let him put his hands on my knees and gently pull them open. He hooked one of my legs over each of his shoulders, then slid me forward to the edge of the counter. He looked up so that he could watch my face as he slowly extended that tongue and delicately lapped at my folds.

My hips twitched. He stopped. I leaned back a little and angled my body to allow him better access.

“Thank you,” he whispered before going back to lap at my folds. I was already soaking wet and having him eagerly lap up my juices was just making it worse. He found my clit and began stroking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue. I gasped and raised one foot to press on his shoulder, giving me leverage to splay my legs open even further. I whimpered and curled my body toward him, catching his head in my hands.

He stopped.

“Please!” I gasped trying to pull him closer.

He laughed darkly, then latched on to my clit and sucked for a moment before going back to lapping at me. My legs started to shake, I grabbed my thighs to hold them open and tensed as I felt the wave begin to build.

My body began to flutter and clench.

He dipped his tongue inside of me a swirled it around and up, finding the spot that made everything tense as I came. He pulled his tongue out and went back to my clit.

It was too much, I squirmed and pulled away, unable to speak but wrenching his head away.

He backed up and stood up and looked down at me. “Hurt?”

I shook my head, “No. Not hurt, just done.”

“Hmm.” He lifted me back onto my feet, the scooped me up and held me when my legs wouldn’t. “Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Sleep more?”

“Maybe a little.”

He carried be back to bed. When he lay me down, I pulled on him towards the mattress, the managed to get him positioned to be the big spoon. I pulled his arm over me and dozed for a while.

I woke with him stroking my side. I blinked and rolled toward him.

“Still good?”

“Um-hmm,” I agreed.

“More?” he didn’t sound like he was expecting anything, merely curious.

I ran my hands down his chest and cupped the flat space between his legs before sliding my hand away. I looked up to find him watching me.

“I can be that for you, if you want.”

I thought about that. “Maybe.” I rolled back on to my my side.

His body spooned up behind me. I could feel him reshaping behind me, then a cock bobbing against my ass. “Stop?” he asked.

“Not yet,” I replied.

He slid it between my thighs and gave a couple of experimental thrusts, rubbing his dick over my folds.

“That’s nice,” I mumbled. He kissed my shoulder. I pushed back a little, rubbing my ass against him.

“More?” he asked again. I nodded. “Show me?” he suggested. I thought about that for a moment, then put myself into my not completely perfect frog’s pose, exposing myself to him. He pushed the covers off the rest of the way, then covered my body with his. His hands were next to mine, his knees between mine. Then with one, slow careful movement, he sheathed himself inside me.

I moaned softly at the immediate feeling of fullness.

He pushed my hair to the side and licked and sucked at my neck as his body began to rock into mine. It was a slow and gentle rock in deep followed by a careful, rolling easing out.

“More!” I gasped trying to grind back against him. He moved faster, then progressively harder until he was snapping his hips against mine. I whimpered and clenched as I came. He just fucked me though it. And as I started to sag in the aftermath, his fingers found my clit and rubbed hard in time with his thrusts. Every nerve in my body lit up, my cunt clenched hard enough to slow him down, I made some strange animal sound as my body fluttered and arched, then instinctively pulled away. He caught me and held me tight, then rolled us both onto our sides as I lay there panting, soaked in sweat, his body still tucked into mine.

He licked my neck again. “Still good?”

“Yeah,” I gasped, “but now I sleep.”

He laughed, “You should have let me try that last night.”

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tysonrunningfox · 6 years

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Tired, Hungry, and Chiefly

This chapter is my pride and joy. You think you’ve seen Eret be bad at women? No you haven’t, he peaks here. Wait, no he doesn’t, there’s that time he’s gonna super awkwardly bring up marriage at a bad time but whatever. And the poor boy can’t be trusted with his little mini stoick thing he’s got going on. Someone help him. The baby boy.

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“Is it broken?” I feel stupid asking the question as I stare at the dam Sven wants help with. I’ve never looked at a dam for this long before, of course I understand the basic idea of it, that it stops water from flowing and makes a pool that we can draw from more easily, as evidenced by the channel taking water down the hill to the fire suppression system. But there’s also water trickling through the front of it, a smaller stream than the one uphill, sure, but isn’t it supposed to stop the water?

“No,” Sven shakes his head, “we just need a bigger reservoir behind it, the chief gave permission for a secondary channel down by the hanger in case of fire and when we try to fill both,” he shrugs, “it doesn’t work.”

“Ok…” I sigh, “dumb question, but why don’t we just stop all of the water coming through it? Can’t we grab this water.” I dip my toe in the trickle through the front of the rocks and Sven looks at me like I’m stupid.

“If we fully dam the creek and get more rain than we expect, that’s a flood for sure.”

“But wouldn’t it just go the new way you tell it to?” I point at the diverted channel and Sven shakes his head, obviously frustrated.

“Well, no, it’d flood the dry riverbed and eventually the North fields and the village itself, most likely.”

“So we can’t do that.”

“No.”

“What exactly do you need again?” I rub my forehead like that’ll make it think faster or de-clutter the thoughts that are already there. I’ve been on my own with this stuff for a week and a half now but it feels like a lifetime, or at least like I have a lifetime worth of everyone else’s problems jamming up my brain. Bang nudges my hand and I pat his nose.

“You ok, chief?”

“Acting Chief,” I correct, because the opposite of what people say almost always sounds better. Acting Chief sounds ineffective when I don’t know what to do but Chief sounds like I should know what to do. There’s no winning with it really. “Just a headache. I’m fine. It’ll be better when we figure this out, so what exactly do you need? Again? Again again? Sorry.”

“We need the pool behind the dam to be bigger.” Sven speaks slowly in a way that would usually offend me, but it’s about all I can keep up with right now. “So conventionally, that means we need to make the dam wider and taller, but I don’t know what rock to use and we can’t spare the dragons to go off island for it.”

“Right,” I look around like I keep forgetting to, the absence of wild gronckles fluttering around more ominous than it should be. “What kind of rock do you need?”

“Any of the bedrock around here works best. Big pieces,” he holds his arms out wide to tell me how big, “are good, but I’ve used them all.”

“Big pieces…” I think to myself for a minute, but I’m apparently too tired to be contented in thinking about a list of places I’ve seen the biggest, hardest rocks and my mind tries to wander. The chief would know the answer, if he were saying anything other than the blandest small talk I’ve ever had to suffer through. Fishlegs might know, Hel, Rolf might now and I should probably check in on the dragon catalog anyway. That’s just another thing that got pushed aside in all of this, that and the fact I haven’t talked to Fuse about our plan in weeks. Fuse…Fuse! “Oh! Fuse Thorston is about to blow out that wall at the edge of the wood bin, by the new dock, I wonder if there’s a way to make it crumble into big enough pieces for this.”

“That’s an idea,” Sven shrugs, and in some ways I like talking to him more than other people, because he tells me when my ideas are stupid instead of just taking pity on the young, frazzled Acting Chief and letting me get away with being wrong. “I’ve used a lot of her rubble before, it’s usually a little small but it’ll do.”

“I’ll ask her if there’s any way to make it bigger.” I swing onto Bang, “and I’ll let you know what she says.”

“We need this by the end of summer!” He calls the deadline after me like I’m not stressed enough about it and I steer Bang a little higher than is really necessary, closing my eyes as we cut through a cloud and cold water condenses on my face. My beard’s getting long again, just on the cusp of annoying, and I make a note to shave it later, you know, if I have a single instant at home and awake enough to remember.

The easiest way to avoid Aurelia and the chief’s sad, dead eyes is to get home late and wake up early. Unfortunately, there’s more than enough to do to fill pretty much all of that time, so that means I don’t see Stoick or Mom either. And maybe that’s something I’m avoiding too, because at this point I’ve left her alone with this far too long if she isn’t as ok as she’s been acting. I hate that somehow, I’m at this point where I’m in a position to doubt what my mom tells me, to read into it more than she might want me to.

But she’s been ok. She’s been keeping up with the house, Stormfly’s saddle is shiny and her axe found its way back inside after spending a couple days in the demolished trunk out front. Maybe she’s doing what I’m doing and keeping busy to avoid thinking about anything and maybe that’s all anyone can do sometimes.

I land at the edge of the square, pointed towards the Thorston house and walking quickly enough to avoid any reasonable interruption, but when someone grabs my hand with an irrationally strong grip and crows in my ear, I know it’s not reasonable.

“Oh, Eret, I just need to ask you for the quickest favor!” It’s Mrs. Ack, her wrinkled arms almost mystically strong as she hooks her elbow through mine and reaches up to pinch me on the cheek. Or she tries, I think she gets mostly beard because of her height and slumped back and the fact that there’s not much unbearded cheek at the moment. It hurts anyway and I rub my face when she lets go.

“I’m a little busy right now, Mrs. Ack.”

“It’s really the smallest favor,” she drags me towards the farm stand on the other side of the square and I look almost wistfully over my shoulder at the barely visible roof line of Fuse’s shed. It’s quiet there. I bet if I asked, she’d let me hide for half an hour. I wonder if she’d mind if I took a nap, honestly. “I was just thinking to myself how I’d bought too much heavy food when I saw you landing just nearby.” She squeezes my arm the way she pinched my face, “you just remind me so much of your grandfather.”

“Stoick the Vast was known for his food carrying abilities?” I laugh and try to loosen her grip on my arm, but it’s pointless. I’ve learned that in the last couple of weeks. Vikings are stubborn and cutthroat and can’t fathom being wrong, but when it comes to Viking women, that’s all a horrible understatement. And it gets worse with age, for me to tell a woman over eighty that I don’t want my cheek pinched at this exact instant is essentially an act of war.

“He was always so ready to help.” Mrs. Ack has no visible problem picking up a basket and setting it in my arms and before I can start walking towards her house, her arm is back through mine even though she’s dragging me more than she appears to need help walking.

This is the part of being even acting chief that I wasn’t prepared for. When I was helping the chief out, I usually had a directive, I was doing one small thing to completion to the best of my abilities. But when I’m alone out here, I’m always being pulled a million ways at once, and it seems like the strongest pulls, literally when considering Mrs. Ack’s fingers digging into my arm, come from the least important places.

But I don’t exactly resent the few smaller errands I end up with a day, the grocery carrying is new but there’s always a terror in Mrs. Ericson’s tree or a yak in Mrs. Jorgenson’s house that they end up wanting help with. And they usually feed me and try to coerce me to stay for tea and even though they’re pushier than most of their husbands, they’re generally more complimentary on the kind of job I’m doing and at this point, I’ll take what I can get. If my praise is coming in the form of Mrs. Hoarkson shoving her homemade apple bread into my mouth and commenting on how I can’t keep growing if I’m running myself into the ground, at least I’m both full and tired.

“I’ll take that back,” Mrs. Ack drops my arm and nimbly plucks the basket from my hands with one arm, setting it inside her house on the floor and shushing an old Nadder that whines when disrupted from its nap in front of the fire. “Do you have time to come in for a cup of tea? I have leftover pie from last night and if I may say, you’re looking too skinny, chief. You can’t spend so much time taking care of all of us that you forget to eat.” She pats my face again and I laugh.

“I’m just skinny, Mrs. Ack, unfortunately no amount of pie is going to change that.” I take a step back and avoid another cheek pinch, if only narrowly. “And maybe some other time. I’ve got a lot to do today—”

“Can I at least send it with you?” She walks further into her house and starts wrapping up something in waxed parchment. Her husband grunts about giving away all the food and she shushes him. “It’s just Eret, Sigurd, if he doesn’t slow down and have some pie he’s going to blow away the next time he takes off!”

“I’m really fine.” I take a step back from the door but she practically sprints after me, shoving the food into my hand and patting my arm.

“Come by any time, chief, we’ve always got an extra seat at the table since our Burpa moved in with her son last year.”

“Thanks.” I’m probably not going to take her up on that, but at the same time it’s nice to know I have some option to be very well fed even if tensions get too high at home. “Have a good rest of your day.”

She squeezes my arm before letting go and I hear her chewing out her husband interspersed with brief seconds of praise that I try and take in while they last, because if I let them sink in maybe it’ll be a cushion the next time someone directly calls me stupid or naïve or laughs when I try to tell them to do something. I unwrap the pie almost immediately, eating it as I walk back across the square towards the Thorston house.

“I thought Mrs. Ack was going to lock you up inside her house and never let you out.” Someone appears beside me fast enough to startle and I drop my pie, barely catching it in the other hand and crushing it slightly.

It’s Ruffnut and when she looks at my clumsiness with vague disgust, it makes her look more like Fuse and less at the same time. Mostly it makes me miss Fuse’s fond annoyance at my antics, even though it’s only been a few days since I’ve seen her.

“She seems convinced she can feed me out of my skinny phase,” I look down at myself, the bony lines of my ribs practically visible through the shirt that’s somehow tight on my shoulders and loose everywhere else. Maybe it’s a holdover from when Mom was…incapacitated and the chief was getting someone else to do all the laundry. It must have shrunk and then stretched funny. “I told her it’s not a phase. What can I do for you, Mrs. Ingerman?”

“Oh come off of that,” she rolls her eyes, “I wiped your butt. It’s Ruffnut, whether you’re some fancy chief or not.”

“Acting Chief.”

“Yeah, you are acting like a chief but I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“Do you need something?” I shove the slightly crushed pie in my mouth and almost choke on a crumb, coughing after I manage to force it down.

“I was just checking that you’re actually that clueless,” she shakes her head, “and not letting yaks into the Jorgenson house just to check up on the misses.”

“That was so weird,” I laugh, “it left really willingly too. Which was good because I know about as much about livestock as I do about—”

“Women?” She raises an eyebrow and everything about the way she’s looking at me makes me uncomfortable. It’s like she’s both on my side and against it and I have no way of knowing which way she’s facing at any exact instant. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

“I was going to say being chief but, I mean—”

“Women works better.” She rolls her eyes and shifts her basket to her other hip. She looks young like Mom, but in a different way, like she stole it from other people’s youth by teasing them until they willingly handed it over. “Don’t let some grandma pinch your arm off before my niece comes to terms with how clueless she is, alright?”

“I uh…” I frown, “I’m going to go talk to Fuse now if she needs help with something. Not that I usually have more clues than she does, but—”

“That’s gotta be the Astrid part, right?” She’s talking through me more than at me and I get that all too familiar feeling that everyone knows something I don’t. “Hiccup figured it out eventually and it wasn’t as obvious.”

“You’re being super cryptic and not helpful at all…”

“Odin, that’s always weird,” she shakes her head and sighs at me like I’ve caused her great personal distress. “When you do the…the talking thing, like that. Ugh. Anyway, I’m not going to ruin the surprise for anyone, so I’ll see you around. Also, just in case you didn’t know, Terrors don’t actually get stuck in trees. They can fly, just, by the way.”

“I know terrors can fly,” I call after her but she doesn’t stop, a fact I’m frankly glad about because I wasn’t enjoying that conversation. “But I did think that one was weird,” I mutter to myself, licking a spot of filling off of my thumb and feeling oddly like I’m being watched. It’s probably Mom, probably ready to jump out and tell me off for my manners, because even chiefs can’t escape those.

Right before I turn to walk up to the Thorston place, I spot Hotgut out of the corner of my eye, landing hard in front of the forge, belly probably full of something heavy and explosive. Fuse slides off of her and I change direction, clicking when Bang doesn’t follow immediately. He’s been sluggish too, well, that and clingy to Mom any second I let him out of my sight.

Smitelout drops whatever she’s doing, literally, and leans over the window to talk to Fuse. Fuse has one of those wrinkled drawings and Smitelout frowns at it, trying to smooth it on the windowsill.

“Ok, but how does blowing up an island help anything?” Smitelout asks at full volume right as I get there and I shush her, earning a spectacularly dirty look.

“There’s a thermal vent under the island that it seems like the dragons are trying to get to.” Fuse explains casually, voice low, and I hope she’s not still dwelling over Aurelia. I hope this isn’t fake confidence, because that’s not something she’s ever supposed to have.

“How could you know that?” Smitelout scoffs at an appropriate volume and I lean in slightly like my back could possibly shelter anything we’re doing. The drawing is just a shell, thankfully, nothing that’d give it away as anything out of the ordinary.

“We found some old drawings that said that island wasn’t there a few hundred years ago and now the sick dragons keep diving into the volcano—”

“Ok, ok, I get it. Let’s blow the bitch then.”

“We’re trying,” Fuse rubs her temple, dirty bandage on her first finger stretching halfway up her nail. Her fingertip leaves a dot of soot behind next to a freckle and I don’t believe she’s ever been clueless in her life. “That’s what that baffle you worked on is for, it’s a directional amplifier and I can’t get it quite right yet. We need something really big to get a vertical fracture that’ll actually opens something up—”

“And that’s your shit,” Smitelout cuts her off and I glare at her, “and the twerp likes hearing about it, apparently, weird flirting, again—”

“Can you just help without all the commentary?” The arm closest to Fuse feels hot, like I can tell she’s uncomfortable, like bringing up flirting makes it worse for no reason that makes sense. Maybe it’s because it’s Smitelout and because Aurelia just did what she did, maybe Fuse feels weird trusting someone who’s clearly delusional.

I can’t say I don’t share that fear.

“You need six of these?” Smitelout looks at the drawing again, “I assume you can’t pay, given that this is some kind of secret…”

“How much do you want?” Fuse rolls her eyes and I shake my head, leaning my elbow on the counter.

“It’s Smitelout,” I scoff, “the answer is probably your house, your shed, everything in your shed—”

“I’ll do it for free if you go away, Twerp.” Smitelout looks smug, like she pulled one over on me and I sigh.

“I think I might be able to manage that,” I push off of the counter and look at Fuse, half frozen for a second as I dig for something in the mess of my short term memory. “I had to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t remember,” I laugh, “it’s been a day. I think your aunt might have threatened me.”

“Which Aunt?” She frowns and I didn’t know she had more than one.

“Which do you think?”

“Oh my gods, go flirt somewhere else,” Smitelout bellows, smacking her hammer against her anvil like she can spook us away like wild Terrors, “you’re scaring away customers.”

“Nope, just your personality, Lout.” I start walking with Fuse anyway, unsure if I should address the flirt comments or not. “I don’t know why she finds the idea of me flirting so funny. Like yeah, it would probably be a disaster, but that seems to be the only thing she can find to make fun of. Which…come on,” I gesture to myself and wish I hadn’t said anything. She glances at me like I’m crazy, cheeks suddenly red like she’s thinking about making the quietest escape possible and I scratch the back of my neck, “uhh, that thing I had to talk to you about though. What was it? I know this…”

“How would I know what it is?” She frowns, eyebrows knit together and how did Smitelout think we were flirting? She’s looking at me like I’m the dumbest thing she’s ever seen.

“I know you don’t know.” I smack my forehead a couple of times with the heel of my hand, “I swear, I get why the chief carries a notebook around all the time now, how am I supposed to keep everything straight?”

“Maybe get a notebook.”

“Super helpful, Fuse, I hadn’t thought of that.” I gripe, and I keep going back to the flirting comment, because it’s so stupid and disruptive because I know I have something real to talk to her about and now I can’t think of it. “Wait! I remember. Sven needs rocks to shore up a dam and I asked you to go ahead and column the corner of that wall and I was wondering if there’s any way you could like…leave bigger sized rubble when you take it down so that we don’t have to find dragons that can search for stone off island.”

“How big?” She slows down, dragging her feet slightly as that practical engine lights up behind her eyes. I hold my arms out and accidentally bump her in the arm but she doesn’t notice or if she does, she doesn’t care because Smitelout is an idiot above all things.

Some things remain the same, at least.

“About like…eh, maybe? I think a bit bigger or smaller would be fine, but we don’t want like…pebbles.” I sigh, “I’m not being descriptive enough, am I?”

“No, I get what you’re saying.” She bites her lip, snaggletooth peeking out slightly as she narrows her eyes, counting something only she can see. “Maybe some smaller charges at the top and bottom spaced a little wider than that. There’s always going to be that vaporization bubble but if I could try and get sort of a grid on it…”

“Vaporization bubble?”

“Some of the rock vaporizes if it’s close enough to the bomb.” She grins, her eyes lighting up like I just told her she could blow something entirely new up. I’m glad she’s looking better, like she’s not dwelling on Aurelia, and I’m really hoping the Mrs. Ack’s of the island hold off long enough that I can ask her about it.

“That’s awesome.”

“Right?” She laughs before falling serious for just another moment, “and I can try it, I mean, no promises. I’ve never tried to control rubble size before except, you know, making it smaller than could fall on someone and kill them but…I’ll try it. I’ll let you know when he could expect it to be done when I figure that out.”

“Thanks,” I laugh, “did you know that you make things really easy? There’s more arguing in carrying old Mrs. Ack’s groceries than in getting you to do something crazy and impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” she shakes her head, “I don’t know if I’ll get it right the first time but if building materials are a thing we’re looking to optimize—”

“Something crazy then.”

“They’re not very big charges—”

“Ok, there we go, there’s the Viking stubbornness.” I laugh and she doesn’t seem sure if she should laugh with me. It’s frustrating, because I can’t tell if that’s just Fuse being Fuse or if she’s still upset and I wish I were funny enough to draw that line a little more clearly because all that’s left for me to do is ask, and that feels like ruining probably the only pleasant conversation I might get to have today. But it’s the right thing to do and as I’m becoming a boring slave to that idea, I sigh and try to figure out how I can best get this over with quickly. “Also, just…how are you doing?”

“Why are you saying that so significantly?”

“Because I should have just asked how you’re feeling about the whole Aurelia thing and I’m an idiot.” I sigh, trying to read her face as the question sinks in.

She thinks about it a little longer than she usually does and shrugs, “I’m not happy.”

“I’ll talk to her again when I see her, alright?”

“If you’ve already talked to her, I doubt you’d have anything new to say for trying it again.”

“Not everyone’s brain works as fast as yours, Fuse, I’m frequently left coming up with excellent come backs days to weeks after a conversation actually ends, so I’d be willing to bet I’d surprise myself.” I can feel myself talking funny, not funny like I’m trying to sound like someone else, just…odd. It’s like I want her to correct me, to tell me that I’m smart or something, which is kind of a failed attempt from the start in a conversation where I couldn’t remember an important conversation from three hours ago. “I won’t though, if you don’t want me to or—”

“You’re checking in on me.” She stops and cocks her head, braid falling over her shoulder. It’s tangled and only holding onto what seems like about half her hair at this point, the rest tucked behind her ear and sticking to the front of her vest.

“You were upset.”

“But it wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, not directly, but…I still care when you’re upset. You’re my friend. One of my best friends, really.”

She halfway smiles, brows still furrowed like she’s waiting for me to say something else and unlock a last, mystery piece of some puzzle.

“What?” I wipe my beard, “do I have pie on my face?”

“Thanks,” she grins, slow and quiet like her smiles ever are and I feel better for opening my mouth, for once. I don’t have to worry how she’s feeling because I know. “And no pie, you’re clean.”

“Thanks,” I say because that feels like a compliment even though it’s not, really, unless I’m someone who doesn’t believe in myself to get food into my mouth without messing it up. Which, fair, but not necessarily encouraging.

“Eret,” my mom appears beside me and rests her hand on my shoulder and I jump like she just caught me doing something wrong. I turn to look at her and she’s giving Fuse a pointed look and I step out from under her hand.

“What? What’s up?”

She raises her eyebrows at me and looks at Fuse again like it’s something she can’t say in front of her and I almost blurt out that I tell Fuse everything anyway, but that’s volunteering her for something without asking first and with my family involved? Well, it could be bad.

“Can I come find you later?” I ask her and she looks between me and my mom, shrugging.

“Sure, I’ll let you know what I come up with.”

“Yeah,” I nod, “good. Thanks for, you know, making it easy and stuff.”

“Sure…” She lingers for a second, glancing at my mom before deciding not to say anything else.

“What?” I turn back to my mom, trying not to let a sudden flash of irritation creep its way into my voice. “Is something wrong?”

“Don’t you have some work to be doing?” She raises an eyebrow like she knows something I haven’t told her and I look over my shoulder like Arvid or Aurelia is going to be lurking there, armed with something they promised not to share when we were on better terms.

“Like what? Do you need something?”

“You volunteered for this, Eret—”

“What are you talking about?” I gesture after Fuse, “I was just talking to her about the wood bin, she’s doing something the chief asked her to before—well, he asked her to and then Sven needs rock for some dam and I was asking if she could, I don’t know, help me out with that and she said she could.”

“And Smitelout—”

“She was overcharging Fuse for the special thing I’m asking her to do,” I half lie, “I fixed it.”

“And Mrs. Ack—”

“Come on, Mom, you’re going to say I’ve been goofing off with Mrs. Ack?” I roll my eyes, “she asked for my help with carrying something, I’m just trying to help people which, last time I checked, is the gist of my job.”

She stares at me for a second like she’s looking for a lie and I scratch my face, taking a step back and looking over my shoulder for Fuse. Maybe I should have asked about that nap in her shed, because I’m about that exhausted at this point.

“Can Fuse do it?”

“Can Fuse do what?”

“Whatever you asked her to do.” Mom raises an eyebrow, “because you were asking her to do something, right?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s going to try. Apparently it’s going to vaporize some rock but—”

“That’s encouraging.” She sounds angry in a way that almost means something and I wonder what I’ve missed at home while avoiding it as much as possible.

“I thought it was kind of cool, honestly.” I mime my hands blowing apart and make a sound like what I’d imagine vaporizing rock would sound like. Kind of a whoosh. “Just…as a concept. Just…boom and the rock is gone. And the crowd goes wild…”

She’s unimpressed.

She purses her lips at me and crosses her arms.

“Have you told Sven that Fuse is working on it?”

“Well, no, because she just finished telling me that she could do it.” I gesture up the hill where Fuse went, “and then you interrupted the end of our conversation and that brings us up to the present.”

“Is that an attitude?”

“Is trying really hard to be cooperative even though you’re interrogating me for no reason an attitude?” My voice cracks slightly and I clear my throat. “Because if so, yes, this is an attitude.”

“I like this attitude. It’s good. Keep it up.” She nods at me and I fidget slightly under the odd weight of her gaze, like she’s trying to scan my brain for something I missed.

“I’m just trying to keep things together.” I shrug, “I’m probably messing everything up but…”

“Go talk to Sven, maybe make sure he has a secondary plan in case Fuse can’t do what she thinks she can.”

I cross my arms, “the secondary plan is send dragons off island to search for stone.” That’s a challenge I hate posing, I hate wanting her to say something other than I know she will.

“Well, what’s wrong with that plan?”

“Lack of dragons, Mom. That’s one question I do know the answer to.”

She frowns but I’ve hit the one subject she won’t argue with me about because like everyone else I’ve tried to talk to, she’s not willing to admit I have a point because somehow, that magically might make it right. I don’t think it works that way but Hel, I could be wrong. Maybe if I found some optimism I could turn this whole thing around. Maybe Acting Chief means the kind of power everyone wants it to be.

“Fine. Are you going to be home for dinner tonight?”

I shrug, “I don’t know, Mrs. Ack did invite me—”

“You should come home for dinner. Stoick hasn’t seen you in days.”

“He hasn’t seen Bang in days, you mean.”

“Well,” she tugs on the tight shoulder seam of my shirt and frowns, “you two are kind of a package deal so…”

“I’ll be home.” I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“Good. I’ve got new clothes for you.”

“Fine.” I take a step back and she looks almost hurt, “I mean thanks. I’m sure they’re good.”

“See you at home.”

#eret iii #festerverse #fuse thorston #smitelout jorgenson #he's trying so hard at chief guys #he's doing such a good job #with the middle aged women crowd #they love him

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lady-stardust7-blog · 7 years

Text

Seclusion: Chapter 2

Summary: Belle French arrives at a secluded cabin in the Scottish Highlands, expecting to spend a week there by herself. What she doesn’t realise is that Euan Gold has had the exact same idea.

[Chapter 1] [read it on Ao3]

Chapter 2/6

“So, what did you have planned for the day?” asked Belle, towel-drying her hair as she walked out of the bathroom. Although a towel was safely wrapped around her body, Gold immediately turned red and looked away after the half glance he made towards her. She smirked as she continued her route to the bedroom to get dressed, and left a slight crack in the door so that they could carry on their conversation.

“Well,” he began, clearing his throat. “I didn’t have anything planned. But if you wanted, I could drive us over to Inverness. It’s only about twenty miles or so. We could have a wander down the high street, get something to eat by the coast.”

Belle almost tripped over the skirt she was putting on.

“You want to come with me?” she asked.

“Oh, er… I mean - if you don’t want me to, I could just do my own thing,” he stuttered. “I just thought it would be easier because it saves you spending a fortune on a taxi.”

“No, no,” she interrupted, popping her head through her shirt and coming back out to join him. “I’d love for you to come too. And Inverness is a great idea! Well, I’m all unpacked, let me just dry my hair and I’ll be ready.”

***

Soon enough, Belle and Gold had arrived in the small city. The car journey had been fairly easy, they had sunk into a comfortable silence whilst Belle had finished her book and Gold concentrated on reading the signs. He parked the car and Belle got out first, eager to see everything.

“First things first,” said Gold, pointing to an old-yet-classy looking building. “I think there’s a stop we need to make.”

She followed him through the entrance and immediately fell in love with the warmly-lit interior. Cluttered bookshelves filled to the brim, on every wall and in between. A spiral staircase led to the balcony above, which went all around the shop and consisted of yet more books. The smell of coffee from the in-store cafe teased her nostrils. She turned to Gold, who looked a little amused at her wonder.

“How did you know I like books?” she asked.

“You finished reading one in the car. I gathered you’d need to replace it. Have a browse, I’ll get us a hot drink,” he explained, before walking over to the barista.

Belle didn’t know where to begin, so she worked her way around from the entrance, studying each shelf in turn. Gold promptly returned with a coffee for them each, but soon the cups were empty and he instead found himself with a dozen books in hand while Belle continued her search.

“How are you going to narrow it down?” he questioned from somewhere behind the pile. Belle frowned slightly in confusion.

“Narrow what down?” she replied. She didn’t wait for an answer before she dived straight back into the bookshelf.

A quick trip back to the car was necessary in order to drop off the huge collection of books she had just bought. Once they were locked away, Belle looked back to Gold for what to do next. He was still massaging his biceps from the long haul.

“I sometimes get a little carried away,” she said, apologetically. He waved a hand in dismissal.

“It’s no matter. There’s a restaurant nearby, right beside a loch if you’re hungry. It does excellent Scotch pies,” he suggested, and Belle agreed.

They took a table outside by the loch, illuminated by candle light. Once the waiter had departed with their order, it was just the two of them, surrounded by the peaceful sound of water in the evening air.

“So, do you come to Inverness a lot?” she asked, resting her head on her hands as she studied the man before her.

“No. This is the second time, actually.”

“What do you normally do when you visit your cabin?”

“The reason I purchased that cabin was because it was away from everything else, not because I wanted to see everything else,” he said, dryly.

“So you just lock yourself away?”

“Basically,” he answered. “I normally keep myself busy. Work on little projects, catch up with some reading, that sort of thing. What about you, anyway? You live in Australia?”

“Originally I did, but my dad moved us to America years ago after my mum died, and we’ve been there ever since.”

“And what happened with your fiance, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Belle wasn’t sure if he was actually interested, or whether he was asking purely out of courtesy, or to avoid the awkward silence they would otherwise be in. But after the waiter had placed down their drinks, Gold looked straight back to her, as if he was hanging onto every word.

“It’s a long story… well, actually, it’s not,” she added, on second thought. “I don’t know. We were just very different people. I realised I was with him for the wrong reasons, and that wasn’t me. There’s more to life than… just settling down and closing your eyes.”

“Such as?”

“I want to see the world,” she said, her heart filling with excitement just at the thought. “I want to learn new things, meet new people. There are so many languages to learn, and so many sights to see. I don’t want to miss out on that, just for the sake of conventionality.”

“That’s very ambitious.”

“What about you? Have you got a wife?” she prompted, realising that she was spilling her personal life to a man she knew nothing about.

“A long time ago,” he admitted. “She left me, for somebody younger and more attractive.”

That surprised Belle - Gold wasn’t an unattractive man in the slightest. He clearly took care of himself, and the way that he held himself in a three-piece suit oozed confidence. If anything, his age added to his allure. He didn’t seem bothered or insecure about the situation, however - simply resigned, as if talking about somebody else’s wife.

“But you’re an attractive guy,” she argued. She hadn’t realised the potential weight of her words until she saw the affect it had on Gold, who blushed for the second time that day.

“Thank you, but apparently she didn’t think so,” he said, stiffly. “I have a son, too. His name is Neal, studying Literature in London.”

Belle loved the way that his eyes suddenly lit up when he mentioned Neal, and so she began to ask more about him. Soon, Gold seemed like a completely different person, smiling and reminiscing about his boy. He even pulled his phone out to show her photographs of him.

They continued smiling and exchanging casual details about their lives over their food, when Belle suddenly became aware of how dark it had become around them, and then came the realisation of how tired she was. She tried to stifle a yawn, not wanting Gold to think she was yawning at him. He noticed regardless.

“I bet you’re knackered,” he said. “This must be the middle of the night for you, what with the time zone you’re on. Come on, I’ll drive us back.”

They paid the bill and made their way back to Gold’s car. Once they were inside, the heating quickly warming them up, Belle felt herself drifting off. What felt like seconds later, she felt Gold tapping her gently, stirring her awake. He guided her back to the cabin and whilst she was getting changed in the bathroom, he sorted out the bedding. When she came out, he had the sofa all laid out and ready to sleep in.

“I’ll sleep here,” he announced. “You can have the bedroom. You look like you need a decent night’s sleep.” She smiled gratefully, and then he suddenly looked embarrassed as something dawned on him. “I, um… didn’t bring any pyjamas.”

At the look of shame on his face, Belle couldn’t help but burst into laughter. He looked like a child who had just admitted to drawing on the walls.

“In all fairness, I didn’t realise that I would be sharing my cabin with somebody else,” he said, defensively.

“It’s fine, Euan, it really is. I’ve seen it all before. I’m not gonna be offended if you sleep in your underwear,” she reassured him. He didn’t look much less embarrassed but he nodded. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, you could borrow one of my night gowns,” she teased, but he didn’t seem to find it funny.

“Goodnight,” he said, shortly, and she retired to the bedroom. Once the door was closed behind her and the light was off, she sank underneath the covers. The warmth soon enveloped her, and she appreciated the feel of the fresh linen against her skin. She was just on the verge of letting sleep take her once more when she heard a noisy huff from the living room.

She ignored it, and turned to go to sleep again. She allowed her mind to wander back to the cute cobblestone pavements they’d walked down earlier, and the beautiful way that the street lamps were reflected in the rippling loch as they tucked into their warm food. It was almost like she was there once again, when - the sound of springs and a loud huff intruded through her ears again.

She could hear Gold tossing and turning every thirty seconds or so, often with a loud sigh of discomfort to accompany it. Eventually, she’d had enough. She got out of bed, turned on the light and opened the door. Straight away, Gold looked up to see what was wrong.

“Is the sofa uncomfortable?” she asked, bleary eyes still struggling to adjust to the light. She could make out his guilty expression through the beam of light that escaped the bedroom.

“A little. Sorry, I’ll try and keep it down,” he mumbled.

“It’s a double bed in here. You can just come and share it, we’re both adults,” she suggested. He sat up properly whilst he considered it, giving her a brief glimpse of his chest as the covers slid off of it.

“Are you sure?” he hesitated.

“‘Course not. Your back is probably gonna need the support of a comfortable mattress after you struggled to carry those books for me earlier,” she smirked.

“I didn’t struggle,” he grumbled, as he held his pillow over his torso and followed her into the bedroom. She almost joked about the vein in his forehead that had risen as he carried the books to his car, but decided against it. She couldn’t hurt the man’s ego when he was already feeling fragile about being in his boxer shorts.

“I don’t normally do this on the first date,” she joked, once they were underneath the covers together. She heard Gold chuckle next to her.

“Goodnight,” he repeated, and that was the last thing she heard before she finally fell asleep.

#rumbelle #ouat #rumbelle au #rumbelle fic

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