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#it's the wee small hours and i did not anticipate having this many thoughts about msr scrabble
princess-tulip-writes · 11 months
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lucien x reader, the reader wakes up in the middle of the night really horny. she wakes up lucien but he’s too tired so then she takes matters into her own hands and then he wakes up and helps
i'm supposed to be sleeping bc of my huge exam tomorrow but this really spoke to me. i couldn't resist.
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you loved your mate, you really really did, but his ability to make you feel too hot from just the matter of being close to him could be a major pain in your ass sometimes. especially when soft groans of content left his throat whenever he snuggled closer to you in his sleep, feeling how comfy you are compared to his hard build subconsciously or the way his hips jerk up in his sleep whenever he has a particularly good dream about his sexy wife. gods, if he ever knew how beautiful those sounds were to his mate, you would never live it down. which is why it's just your little secret. for now, at least.
tonight was no better than any other.
the constant beating of his heart thumped in your ear as it pressed against his warm, and bare, chest, the melody waking you from possibly the best wet dream you could have ever imagined. your eyes shot open as your face flushed from the filthy things your mind had made up, even though it was only between you and mr. sandman. the throbbing of your clit didn't go unnoticed even as your eyes tried to adjust to the darkness.
the sky was still pitch black, meaning that you still had many hours until dawn or lucien even thinking of waking up. perfect. sighing softly, you glanced at the male's face a few inches above your head and found that you could at least make out the features of your lovers in the pale moonlight that somehow reflected perfectly on his face.
gosh, he's gorgeous.
his eyelashes ticked his cheek bones as he slept, the scar slashed across of face no longer made you sad, replaced with a feverish yearn for his bravery, his plump lips parted slightly as soft snores left them. But the best part was his hair; spread angelically all over the silk pillow where his head lie, as if he had planned it. you knew he hadn't, yet you couldn't help but admire how naturally gifted he was with his looks. you had to clench your thighs in order to keep yourself from practically humping his leg at the thought of tugging said strands.
he looked to perfect to just leave alone...
"lucien." you whispered followed by a gentle shake of his shoulder to help him wake.
luckily for you, he was a pretty light sleeper. hell, he always woke whenever you left to go pee in the wee hours of the night with a pout and a 'hurry'.
"what?" he whined sleepily.
"i need you."
you bit your lip in anticipation as you were greeted with seconds of silence before the hand on your arm tighten slightly before softening again.
"not right now. 'm too tired, babe..."
the scatch in his voice certainly didn't help the ache between your legs, and neither did the way his words faded into a whimper as he drifted off midsentence. this was certainly going to be a long night for you.
usually, he would jump at any given opportunity to sink himself inside of your warm cunt or even taste you, so in order for him to so easily reject the chance told you just how exhausted he really was. as much as you were horny, you knew he needed to catch up on some much needed sleep.
so instead of trying again, you snuck your hand down your panties and began rubbing small circled around the bundle of nerves.
for the next five minuets, you tried so hard to be quite as you neared your release, thinking of the all the things lucien had done to you through the years that never fail to make you squirm at the remembrance. but no matter how hard you bit your lip, even as blood gushed out from the force, a few moans slipped out. you knew that eventually, he'd wake and be very displeased but you couldn't help but get even more excited at the thought of punishment.
with your high approaching, your toes curled tightly as you tried to stop yourself from tensing or moving too much in fear of giving yourself away or waking him, but you still couldn't stop the loud whine that slipped past your teeth as you clenched around nothing and your fingers sped up. suddenly, a tight grip around your wrist had halted your movements and made your eyes screw shut.
you were so fucked.
not only had you intterupted his sleep, but you had the gull to touch yourself without permission.
"care to explain yourself, slut?" he asked, his voice laced with both dissapointment and sleep. "just couldn't wait could you? had to go and help yourself with even asking? you are so much more pathetic than i thought you were, little fox."
your cheeks heated up as you swallowed thickly. here's the thing about lucien; he was the most dual person you had ever known. one moment, he could be all sweet, cuddling close to you and being a big sleepy baby, and the next he could turn into a starving, sex deprived male who only wants to use you to feast on. it only made you wetter.
"i'm sorry, i just needed some release. had a dream about you again..."
the male smirked at the admission, prideful that just a erotic dream of him could get you so worked up that you had to touch even after he said no. it was adorable how much you truly wanted him.
"well, since i caused the problem, i should help fix it, right?" he chuckled, his voice still rough with slumber but sexy as ever as he released your wrist. "keep going and don't stop until i say, little one. i'll make it feel all better."
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judejazza · 4 months
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Mistletoe & Miracles [Leonardo/Reader]
2639 | Fluff! | Leonardo/Reader
Secret Santa for @sallyjestory hosted by @lemeowade Thank you for organising something so sweet, Inky!!! I’ve never written Leonardo before, so I am a wee bit nervous especially since I am still a little sick so I hope it’s okay!!! <3
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How long had it been since the door had closed permanently to your home?
It wasn’t often you thought about it. At first you had, but more and more over the years it had simply been just another door in the mansion; one which led to no where in particular. It wasn’t hard to be distracted from it, the love you received from your partner more than made up for the lack of future comforts.
Yet, there were some days, like now, where you found yourself staring at the door wistfully.
It wasn’t that you missed home exactly, it wasn’t really home after all — home was where Leonardo was. But, sometimes, there was this wistfulness, this homesickness that just wouldn’t budge for days and days on end; and this time it seemed almost as though there was no hope for it to go away. Every day it sat thicker in your stomach, leading you to the door to stand in front of it, as if hoping for something that would never happen.
What if it did open?
How could you even think about leaving Leonardo behind?
Perhaps he was there in the future, perhaps there was a version of him there who’d wait for you — but could you expect him to be alone for a hundred or so years? Sure, he’d already lived far, far longer than that but to you even a day without him was one too many.
The scent of smoke fils your senses moments before warm arms wrap around you from behind. Instantly you relax, his chest against your back and his warm breath against your ear; as if al the anxieties you have no name for have rushed away and entirely hidden themselves.
“Mmm,” his voice rumbles from his throat, thick with sleep. “Everything okay, Cara Mia?”
“Yes,” you answer instantly.
Leonardo’s arms tighten, his face nuzzling into your neck more. He sees through the lie, you know it.
“It’s just sometimes I wish I could show you my home, or spend the holidays at home in my time with you and… It’s silly, Leonardo, it’s nothing. It’s just home sickness. It’ll pass.”
“I’m sorry.”
You want to say it’s not his fault — truly it isn’t. You’re the one who chose to stay in this time, the one who decided to remain in the mansion at his side, but he won’t accept that answer. For someone who sleeps anywhere, whose room is a mess, and who seems to not take too much seriously — he’s earnest about things which involve you and your future, your life.
“I don’t regret staying here with you.”
“I know.”
You both stand there like that for what feels like hours before the sound of footsteps behind you break you both out of your small bubble of time. Reluctantly you pull from Leonardo’s warm arms to turn to face Comte as he comes to a stop just behind the pair of you.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
He has a smile on his lips you can’t quite read; one which sets a flitter of anticipation in your stomach. It’s as if for a moment time freezes, something in your throat builds and you swallow thickly, a deep exhale from your lips-
“Vlad and I were talking,” Comte starts. Beside you, you hear Leonardo mutter something which is accompanied by a smirk on his lips. “We’ve been monitoring the door and we’ve noticed something, and-“ he pauses, his smile growing. “We both came to the conclusion that there will be another chance for you to return home.”
Silence.
“What?”
“When?” Leonardo asks, his voice louder. “For how long?”
“Tomorrow.”
Christmas.
“The door will probably stay open for 24 hours, then it will close forever to that time. There’s no telling if a phenomena like this will occur again.”
“It’s okay,” you say quickly, dropping your gaze from his intense golden eyes. “We’ve already prepared so much for tomorrow, and it won’t feel right not spending the day with everyone.”
“Cara.”
“It’s fine, really.”
“What time will the door open?” He asks, turning back to Comte. His voice is full of an excitement, something you can’t place the reason for — briefly your mind wonders if he’s simply grown tired of you, that the knowledge that one day you’ll grow old and die without him is getting too much, that he an’t handle it anymore and he just wishes to send you back home, far, far away from him. You quickly shake these thoughts from your head; it’s not true at all, none of it is. Hasn’t he spent every day since you decided to stay here, with him, proving how much he loves you? Each second that passes he showers you with adoration, finds new ways to make you smile, to make you laugh, to-
“Midnight.”
“Alright, then you’ll be two short for tomorrow.”
“I figured.”
Leonardo lets out a snort. “Don’t act like you know everything, ‘Comte.’”
“Leo….?”
He turns to you again, peering down at you with his sharp gaze and his face instantly melts into a gentle, tender smile. Eyes bright with warmth and love that sends your heart thundering. “It’s your wish right? We can come back, it’s not as if we won’t spend Christmas with this bunch again. It happens every year; but going to y our home with you isn’t going to happen again.”
“What if we can’t get back?”
Typical to him, Leonardo simply gives a lackadaisical shrug and offers you another smile. “Then I guess we live there together. That a problem?”
“No! I just… would feel bad pulling you from here.”
“As bad as I feel keeping you from there?” He chuckles, brushing some hair from your face. “I am willing to take any risk to put a smile on your lips.”
At that moment you’re absolutely certain there’s never been a man quite like him before, and perhaps there never will be. No woman has ever been so lucky, nor so cherished, or, or-
“Hey,” his large slightly calloused hands find your face, thumbs brushing away the beginnings of the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Then, before anything else can be said, his lips are on yours: the kiss soft and sweet, tasting like cigarillos and something sweeter which can only be described as Leonardo.
You’ll never get tired of kissing him.
The evening is spend getting ready for the trip. There’s not much to prepare, some clothes to blend in mostly, some money that Comte had set aside from his own trips to the future (all which Leonardo found fascinating as you explained them to him). The scant few hours barely seem enough to even think about the things you want to do with him or the places you want to take him; there’s been so many advances in science and technology by then, so much to capture in his mind and strike his attention that a simple 24 hours doesn’t seem enough. Besides, barely anything like museums or galleries will be open on Christmas Day.
Returning to your family and friends is out of the question, too. How are you supposed to explain the many years of disappearance, only to return with a strange man who spoke in a stranger accent who had the exact same name as one of the greatest men in history? There’d be so much lying, so much hiding — something you didn’t want to do.
“You’re thinking too hard about this, Cara Mia,” he chuckles, his voice a low purr as his finger pushes between your eyebrows gently. “We can just take things moment by moment.”
“But don’t you want to see what the future has to offer?”
“I’ll see it eventually somehow,” he responds, an almost sorrowful smile on his lips as he says so. It’s true. “But I have less time with you, and all I want is for you to be happy.”
You have a bag packed; a simple backpack, the contents mostly full of different currencies and a few dictionaries, as Comte had said he had no idea where the door would open, there was no exact when either — just that it would open into the 21st century. It was somewhat thrilling — would you be in Japan? Or somewhere in Europe? Perhaps you’ll find yourself where it all started, in the louvre, in the Paris of your time.
Leonardo is less hesitant. He takes your hand in his as the door clicks open and he simply strides through; his confidence urging you on to walk beside him. You’d chosen to stay in this time to be with him; if you ended up stranded in another time period… it was fine. Home was where he was, after all, and he had been talking about the pair of you getting your own place, and-
Bright lights find you as you step outside, and a bitter chill that brings a gasp from your lips. The Door had opened outside somewhere, onto a street. Behind you is an old church, the door blending in almost perfectly with the architecture. Snow falls around you, the cobble streets thick with fresh white powder now marked by your footsteps alone. the church bells ring, signalling the new day. Nearby there’s laughter and music; a song you recognise but hadn’t heard in so many years. It seems strange, almost, that the future now feels like the past bringing Deja vu with it.
The blinding light comes from the decorations lining the streets; garlands of lights hanging from overhead cables, street lamps lit up in various colours, and the windows of nearby houses and shop fronts a myriad of bright displays which feel so dazzling after all those years in the past.
Beside you, Leonardo lets out a deep exhale, his eyes wide and darting around to take everything in.
A few people walk by, giggling. The woman’s face is flushed, talking with her partner in an accent the pair of you can place. “England,” you murmur, thinking of both Arthur and Isaac. “No wonder it’s so cold.”
Within moments, Leonardo has shrugged out of his coat and draped it over your shoulders. The simple sight of him makes you feel more cold in his thin shirt, and- “Leo… people will look at you funny if you walk around like that.”
“I think everyone else is far too occupied in their own little worlds,” he says, leaning closer. To emphasise his point, he motions towards a couple who’d just left a bar to move around to the side of the building, their lips finding each other and each seeking a warmth from the bitter chill of the night.
“We should find somewhere to sleep for the evening.”
Not that you wanted to spend any time in the future with him resting, but you were already exhausted and— well—
“Let’s look around first.”
His voice barely conceals the excitement of the discoveries he might be about to find as he leads you off. His eyes are fixed to the lights, but then they always turn back to you as if making sure you’re still there and happy at his side. Sometimes a bitterness crosses his face, it’s brief, but you see it. No doubt he’s wondering why on earth you gave up such a wonderful age of discovery and innovation for him — yet you have no answer for him you haven’t already given him a hundred times over.
Simply, you love him, and for you that’s enough to forgo everything about the future, about your old life and about your own future. There’s no sacrifice, there’s no giving up anything; you only gain with him. A life of happiness with him, or a lonely life of luxury without him. There’s no competition.
In the square ahead you find a large tree, lit up with far too many light for it to be tasteful and yet the sight is so compelling that neither of you can look away. Had the future always been so bright, or had you now gotten so used to the past? It’s almost funny — part of you wishes to go back home with him, to the simpler life without all this.
A few stalls are still open selling hot drinks and snacks. Almost all the people wondering around are gleeful, a few of them are drunk, but all of the merry enough to wish anyone they pass a very loud and warm seasons greetings. You’re not quite sure how to respond, but Leonardo returns each of them with his own.
“It sure is lively.”
“Yeah,” you say as you look up at him, smiling no reaching up to dust some of the snow from his hair. A few flakes have stuck to his eye lashes, and he quickly gives you a wolffish grin, wrapping his arms around your waist to anchor you to him. “But it’s more lonely than the mansion, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know,” he purrs, his breath turning to condensation and mingling with yours into the night. The sight of something so simple entrances you for a few moments, before you return your gaze to his. As always he’s looking at you as if you’re the most amazing sight in the entire universe and it’s enough to bring hotness to your cheeks. “With you at my side I don’t think I could be lonely.”
“Leonardo-“
“Hey lovers!”
The pair of you break out of your stupor to stare at the man from a nearby stall. He’s giving you both a look, his round cheeks bright red from the cold and his nose almost glowing, yet despite it he looks happy, the warmth, perhaps, from whatever he’s peddling enough to keep him aglow. “Mistletoe.”
The pair of you look up.
It wasn’t uncommon to find it in the mansion. Usually Arthur put it in places to steal kisses, so Leonardo had taken to accompanying you around and removing it before the author could corner you — It was always in good fun, Arthur never had any real intention to kiss you, but you’d always lamented the fact Leonardo had simply removed them rather than used them to kiss you. Usually his show of possessiveness would make you grow warm, but those times had made you feel lonely, and-
His lips press against yours.
He’s warmer than you and you almost seem to melt as h is lips work at yours, arms keeping you against him like a child clutching to the last balloon in the entirety of creation. He’s an expert at this, stealing your breath, and as your thoughts catch up with you he stalls them again by licking at your lips. A few whistles are aimed towards you, but like the cold they fade away to nothing.
The lights vanish, too.
right now there’s nothing bit him in front of you.
Yet all too soon the kiss is over. Leonardo leaves you gasping as he rests his forehead against yours; you can tell from the look on his lips that he’s proud of himself for how he’s stolen every single word from your tongue and mind. Perhaps he plans to do it again the moment your brain restarts, but perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.
“Happy Christmas, Cara Mia.”
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@nightghoul381 @celiciaa @aquagirl1978 @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @tele86
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croziers-compass · 3 months
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hello willbur!!
fuck marry kill + sit a sauna where anything can happen with: the four terror lieuts!
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Oh hello, darling elliot! It's always such a pleasure to see your charming face in my small home. Let me get some coffee on and discuss the hot pulsing bodies of the Terror Leftenants together, shall we?
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Fuck, Marry, Kill, and have a Sauna Date with the four Terror Leftenants, eh?
This took far more consideration than I anticipated. but I believe I have formulated an answer including a Blooper Reel for your enjoyment.
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I would fuck Jopson. This is not even a question. For certain he is the best choice in this regard, though Nedward is a close second. As a bottom, by trade, I know that Thomas Jopson would have such an astute ability to hone in on exactly what someone needs, wants, or will drive them the most mad. Truly, I think that Thomas Jopson's keen eye for detail and terrifying mind would make him quite the experience.
I would Kill John Irving. It's not personal. And by no means is this an attack upon Heinrich. But I do not wish to tolerate John Irving's presence in a sauna nor would I fuck him. Nor would I marry him. This leaves but one final mercy I can bestow upon him. I would make it quick. Something easy. Like lacing his tea so he simply falls asleep and never wakes up, none the wiser.
I would Marry Edward. I think he would actually be a superb spouse. Being a simple creature with simple needs myself, I think I could work well with that. He would be a splendid spouse, I think. I am rather anchored and well structured, so that gives him something to lean on. I am confident and steady and make a good touchstone that is not flamboyant and out there like James. I would rather focus on my interests and hold polite quiet conversation rather than have a lot of excitement. Humble people with warm dispositions.
And I would not mind whatever way Hodgson and I went in the Sauna. Let it become something of a scandalous debacle. Let it be a merging of intellectual minds full of clever words and well read verses. Whichever comes naturally. Perhaps we can start with the .... conversations ... and let it go from there. Sliding closer and closer, interested in what the other has to say, keenly at the edge of the seat until, well, you're seated on the other's lap. Who knows!
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Your blooper reel was a joke that I was talking about. How I would fuck Jopson, Marry Edward, and then I would seppuku myself and let John Irving and Hodgson have the Sauna. Who even knows what could happen there! I hate the prospect of killing any of these lovelies. I could never! But alas, I settled with a choice. Though now I am curiously shuffling various combinations of these men together, alone, in a sauna for several hours.
What would happen if we stuck Thomas and Edward into a wee sauna beside one another for a few hours? All warm and slicked with sweat, the aroma of herbs permeating the steam rising up... Or Hodgson and Little? How comfortable is Little with Hodgson? They've known one another for a while... Or John and Little? Close friends and serving many years on the same ships, certainly they've seen a bit of one another. Purely Christian thoughts of course with nothing deviating from the sort! No such thing could happen, certainly! I'm sure John's freckles across his shoulders and chest would not attract Little's eye at all...
Or Little's shoulders pooling with beads of sweat would not at all be something mesmerizing to Hodgson...
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I digress... Thank you for visiting! This is what happens when you come to my inbox. I write you a short novella.
I hope you enjoyed and that this satisfied your curiosity! How did I do? Was it what you anticipated?
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katsintriis · 1 year
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OC-tober day 1: Childhood
Full disclaimer, I'm not much of a writer, and idk how many of these I'll actually get through. I just thought these would be a fun way to flesh out some ideas I had for my OCs. But I DID finish at least one! So! That's a pretty big accomplishment for me.
Very short and sweet story about my OC Lyre and his adoptive dad from when he was a wee lad. Story under cut bc I'm shy lmao
(Quick intro - Lyre is a brown rat that got turned into a human boy by experimental black magic. He's around 6 here and still learning how to do human things. Dominic is a widowed woodworker from a religious commune who found him injured in the woods and accidentally adopted him, oops.)
***
Lyre was sitting on his elbows and knees on the hard shop floor, watching wooden tops spin around with the rapt attention of a cat stalking a mouse. Dominic was quickly learning that when something caught his curiosity, Lyre could spend hours doing the same seemingly-mundane tasks over and over, soaking up every ounce of information he could get from them. He heard the tak tak tak of wood on wood, the tops bouncing off of each other as they collided mid-spin, then the gentle roll of them coming to a stop on the floor. Dominic’s attention drifted from the carving knife he was using to work on the project in front of him in preparation for what was about to happen next.
Like clockwork, Lyre scooped up the two tops - one carved to look like an acorn and the other a small diamond shape - and dutifully plodded over to where Dominic sat behind the counter, treasures cradled in his little hands as they were offered up to him.
“More.”
“Again,” Dominic prompted as he hoisted himself up from his chair, gingerly to support his aching joints, and received the wooden tops. Despite his age (six? Seven, maybe? Dominic did not have as much experience as Madeline once did with young children) Lyre’s vocabulary was staunchly limited. “Yes”, “no”, and “more” were the only words he had been able to teach him to use with any consistency. This seemed to serve Lyre just fine since he rarely ever left his side, much less the workshop. But if he was going to go out on his own someday, he needed to learn to express himself fully. As taciturn as he was, however, one look at his pale eyes, wide and sparkling with anticipation, was all it took for Dominic to understand exactly what he wanted.
Dominic wasn’t sure if he had grown up around some other native language, or if perhaps he was just shy, but he was convinced that Lyre understood more than he spoke. He and Maddie, rest her soul, never had any children of their own. She was once a school teacher at the church, so she would at least know something of what to do when becoming the sudden caretaker of an adolescent mute child.
As if that were a situation that happened all the time, he groused to himself, and somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Maddie’s voice laughing at him. There were days where Lyre would sit in silence, all day, and do nothing at all, and those were the times he missed his wife the most. Some days, though, were like today - days when Lyre seemed to have the boundless energy a boy his age should. Dominic vastly preferred days like this, even when keeping up with him was tough on his aging knees. 
He squatted down, Lyre following quickly behind, and sent the tops spinning once again. Even after twenty or so rounds of this, Lyre was just as enthused as he had been when he was first introduced to the new toys earlier that morning. Dominic rounded the counter once again and leaned back against it, waiting for the tops to topple once more. There was no point in pretending that he was going to get any more work done at this rate.
Tak tak tak, roll… silence. 
Not thirty seconds later, a familiar pair of little hands popped up over the counter, just barely able to reach on precariously balanced tippy-toes. 
“More.”
“Aye, now listen here, boy,” Dominic sighed, lifting Lyre up by the armpits and plopping him down on top of the counter. “I can’t be bending up and down all day. It’s bad for my arthritis. Why don’t you try to spin them yourself?” He placed the acorn-shaped top back into Lyre’s hands and held the other one up with two fingers as an example. He twisted it slowly a few times to show him the motion, then sent it spinning across the countertop. Lyre watched, clutching his own top, until it spun off the counter and clattered onto the floor below. His eyes shot back up to meet Dominic’s, alight with newfound excitement.
“More!”
“No, no,” Dominic smacked him playfully on the back with one large hand, jostling him until he started giggling. Dominic’s serious act was no match for the boy’s innocent joy. “It’s your turn,” he said, poking Lyre in the chest. “Lyre’s turn. You try.”
Lyre looked at him for a long moment, his mouth twisting until it was more of a scrunch than a smile. He opened and closed it a few times, looking more and more like a confused fish, before Dominic heard him let out a determined breath through his nose. 
“Ahh… gen. Gen.”
Dominic froze. “Again? You want to see it again, first?” 
Lyre rolled the acorn top between his hands and looked down. “Gen,” he said softly.  
Dominic burst into action, almost tripping over himself in his rush to retrieve the other top from where it had fallen on the floor, bad knees be damned. He held it up and moved his hand into position, making sure Lyre was watching him first. “Again. I’m going to show you again,” he said, emphasizing the word slowly. Something in his chest was soaring at the thought that they were having a breakthrough. 
“Ahhh-gen.”
“Again.”
“Yes.”
Dominic laughed so hard he felt it in his belly, and though Lyre probably didn’t understand what was so funny, he seemed happy to have contributed to the mood. He continued on with several more “yes”-es until Dominic had to stop to catch his breath. “Again, okay? Watch.”
He spun the top again. Mercifully, it exhausted itself without falling to the floor this time. Lyre picked it up off of the countertop. 
“Again,” he said, holding it out to him. Dominic wanted to pitch him into the air in celebration, but settled for ruffling his hair so as not to startle him too badly with his newfound (and frankly overwhelming) rush of pride.
“Good, smart boy. No, not again. Lyre’s turn. Lyre,” he poked him again. Lyre seemed to get the message. He pinched his acorn top in between his fingers, gave it a few aborted starts for practice, then let his top fly. 
It did not spin. It did not even touch the countertop. Lyre had accidentally flung his top through the air, where it flew at least six feet and bounced off the floor several times, finally rolling out of sight under one of the shop’s display tables. Lyre pouted. 
“No more.”
Dominic had a feeling that his laughter could be heard all the way to the other side of the commune. 
***
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thespookyintrovert · 3 years
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Mulder and Scully get ridiculously competitive over Scrabble and no game ever lasts less than 3 hours because they’ll argue over every word.
Scully, mischievous little grin on her face, will come up with the most outrageous medical terms she can think of to use up the best letters (“That is not even English, Scully, you’re cheating,” said with the assertive self-righteousness of the utterly hypocritical.  // “If it’s English enough for the AMA, Mulder, it’s English enough for you.”)
Mulder, never one to let his eidetic memory card go to waste, will think of equally outrageous and significantly more dubious words that he’s pretty sure he must have heard at one point; it sounds right in his head, and what are the odds that’d he’d come up with a completely unique sequence of morphemes, anyway? (“That is *not* a word, Mulder.” // “Yes, it is!” // “Do you know what it means? Can you define it for me? If I search for it in the dictionary, will. I. find. it?” slowly, leaning towards him until they are nose to nose. They’re rhetorical questions, of course, but she’ll allow the pointed silence to stretch before leaning back and returning his tiles with a dismissive little shove. “I didn’t think so.” )
Scully gets her points every time, a medical dictionary right next to the board just for the pleasure of rubbing Mulder’s nose in it after a particularly ingenious play. Sometimes, though, with her stomach full and lips tasting warm, rich wine, she’ll let Mulder sweeten her with kisses and petting and even pretend to believe a ludicrous definition to one of his made-up words. She still wins every time. 
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prettyyoungandbored · 4 years
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Both Sides Now [’Second Place’ Sequel]
Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Reader
Summary: 8 years after Rachel’s death and taking place before the events of “The Dark Knight Rises”, Bruce and Y/N meet and relive a painful memory. 
Tagged: @kittenlittle24​ @fzzziiiieee
Read ‘Second Place’ before you read this. 
Author’s Note: Y’all ain’t ready for this. 
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It wasn’t clear how he found her, but she wasn’t upset. She’d secretly hoped the day would come.
Eight years had passed since she walked out of the Wayne penthouse, since she and Bruce broke it off, and since Rachel had passed. Sometimes, when the memories come back to her it feels like they happened the month before. 
She smoothed her jeans as she made her way up the stairs to Wayne Manor, the pitter-patter of rain surrounding her as she attempted to keep dry with the umbrella over her head. When they were together, he was living at the penthouse in the middle of the city, she had dreamt of living in the Wayne Manor and raising a family of their own, but life had other plans as it always does.
She exhaled quickly and adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. She knocked on the door and closed the umbrella.
Butterflies flew in her stomach as anticipation and anxiety ran throughout her body. She wondered how he looked. He had disappeared from the public not too long after the Dent memorial, as did Batman. In the wee small hours of the morning, she used to lie in bed and look outside the window, waiting for him to stand outside like he used to. He used to spend so many nights at her place at the end of his Batman shift. But eventually just like their relationship, her silly hopes came to an end and she stopped waiting.
The door opened and Alfred greeted her. His eyes lit up at the sight of her.
“Miss Y/L/N.”
“Alfred!” 
He opened the door, letting her in. He closed the door behind her, taking her umbrella. She slid off her raincoat, placing it on the rack beside the door. Her smile widened as she wrapped her old friend into an embrace.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” she marveled.
“I could say the same for you,” he responded warmly.
“How are you doing?”
“Well enough. Yourself?” 
“I’ve been quite alright. Busy, but alright.” 
She eyed the manor, noticing the white sheets over the furniture and home decor. She heard Bruce lost money in a bad investment, but didn’t know what to believe considering he was one of the most the smartest men she’d ever met. It was strange seeing the proof with her own eyes, but she didn’t care. Her reason for coming was bigger than him losing his fortune. 
“So this is the famous Wayne manor,” she sighed. “Bigger than I expected.” 
Alfred chuckled. “It’s certainly something else. I’ll take you into the living room. Master Wayne will join you shortly.” 
She followed the older man into the packed up living room. The only piece of furniture that was unpacked was an emerald velvet. While the windows were covered, slim rays of sunlight peaked through, adding tiny bits of sunlight into the dreary room. She took a seat on it and smiling at Alfred as he left. 
She set her purse down and rested her hands on her lap. She eyed the room, imaging what it must’ve have looked like prior to it’s current state. Bruce was insistent on making the place exactly how it was prior to the fire. She remembered teasing him about how specific he was with the interior decorator about having certain, specific colors in certain, specific rooms. 
Then from the corner of her eye, she spotted a painting that had yet to be covered. Her eyebrows furrowed, curiosity taking its course. She got up and knelt down in front of it to find it a was oil painting of Bruce and his parents, Thomas and Martha. Bruce looked like he was at least 10 years and had a stern expression on his face. Y/N chuckled at the thought that knowing how impatient the man tended to be, how dreadful posing for the picture must’ve been for young Bruce. 
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
She turned her head, her body springing up. A heaviness weighed over her chest, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Her breath hitched.
Age had been incredibly kind to Bruce, minus the grey stripe in the side of his hair. He played it casual with a plain grey tee, jeans. His playful, mischievous eyes stayed on her as he flashed the smile that still made her weak in the knees.
Her lips curved into a small, slightly embarrassed smile. “You always did like to make an entrance.”
Bruce stared at her in wonderment, amazed at how she’d managed to look the same after all these years. The way she smiled at him brought him the comfort he once felt when being in presence and it reminded him of a home he’d missed. 
He chuckled. “I can’t help it.”
He started walking toward her when she noticed the limp in his walk. Her smile fell a bit.
“Shattered knee,” he explained casually. “Years of Batman injuries caught up with me.” 
“Here, let me-.”
“It’s quite alright.” He laughed it off much to Y/N’s surprise. He limped his way to the sofa, taking a seat. Y/N followed close behind, taking a seat beside him and turning to face him. 
“So how have you been?” he asked.
“I’ve been well,” she answered. “Still doing event plannings and whatnot. How about you?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been better but, it’s all good.” 
“I heard,” she agreed, nodding her head. The heaviness of the subject of him losing everything lingered in the silence that followed. Feeling somewhat comfortable, Y/N took a deep breath. “Are you going to be ok?”
He nodded reassuringly, almost too confidently. “I have some thing I’m working on.” 
“Well that’s good to know. You know, if you ever need anything-.” 
He waved his hand. “I’m alright. I appreciate it though.” 
“Bruce, you know I’m being serious.” 
“I know and I appreciate it, but I’m ok for now.” 
She gave him a small smile, silently agreeing to drop the subject. She shifted in her seat, clearing her throat.
“I have a daughter,” she admitted, pursing her lips back. 
Bruce’s eyes peaked up, his face lightening up in interest. “You’re kidding.”
“Her name is Mallory,” she beamed. She pulled out her wallet, pulling up a photo. 
Bruce took it from her, studying it. The child had Y/N’s smile and eyes as she smiled photogenically at the camera. His heart melted at the sight of her. “She’s beautiful. How old?” 
“Just turned three.”
“So you’re married?” he asked, looking up from the photo.
She chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I, uhm...I used a sperm donor.”
Bruce nodded and she cleared her throat. “I’ve always wanted to be a mom-.”
“I remember that.”
In the time they were together, he couldn’t help but notice how Y/N looked at children and babies she passed by on the street. When things became more serious between them, she told Bruce her dreams of becoming a mom. Bruce, secretly having wanted kids himself, was in for it and the two spent time talking about a future with a child. 
“Anyway, I just decided to go for it,” she went on.
“Were you ok?” he asked. “You know, with the delivery and everything?”
His mind wandered to the what if once again, imaging himself in the room with her, holding her hand as she had a mini-breakdown. He’d remind her she could do it, while pressing multiple kisses on her forehead and hands. 
“My parents and friends supported me. I also had a great doctor and team of nurses to help me.” 
The dream in his mind died. Nevertheless, there was some comfort in knowing she wasn’t totally alone. 
“Are you seeing anyone?”
She shook her head. “I was for a while but that didn’t work out. It ended amicably though.” She paused. “What about you?”
He shook his head. “You’ll be happy to know you were the last.” 
Her cheeks filled with color. “Wow, you’re kidding me.” 
“I’m not.” 
“You didn’t even sneak anyone in while you hung in here all these years?” 
He shook his head as Y/N cocked her head back in astonishment. “Holy shit. That’s a long time for you.” 
He laughed. “Yeah, yeah it is.” 
Y/N cleared her throat and she fiddled with her fingers. While the small talk was great, she knew just why he called her here and she was ready to get to it. “I’m glad you called me.” 
“I am too. It’s good to see you.” 
She pursed her lips back, exhaling through her nose. “After...uhm...her voice trailed off as she sat up. 
Bruce’s head lifted a bit, his body leaning toward her, waiting eagerly. 
She sighed, realizing she had to rip the bandaid. “After what happened with us and to Rachel, I went to therapy and...while for the most part I was able to come to terms with most of it, there’s still...I still...” She stopped, chuckling. “God, this is fucking embarrassing.” 
“It’s not,” he assured her. “Whatever is you want to say or ask, please. Go for it.” 
She swallowed hard, pursing her lips. “Something Rachel brought up with me was that the night I went back to the apartment, you were going to propose to me.”
Bruce lowered his head, the memory coming alive in his mind. 
“Was that true?” she asked.
He shifted his head up. “It was.” He reached into his jean pocket and pulled it out. 
Y/N’s heart leapt at the sight of it. He handed it to her as she brought the ring closer to her eyes. It was a simple silver band with a .75 carat round diamond, with two little diamonds on each side of it, like the leaves of a flower. It was like watching her wildest dream come true in the palm of her hand. 
Tears sprung from her eyes and she quickly wiped them, sniffling her nose. 
“Y/N, what happened between Rachel and I...” his voice faltered. “We couldn’t be together because of Batman. Then she moved on with Harvey and I moved on with you.” 
“But you didn’t fully move on,” she pointed out. 
He nodded. “There was a lot between Rachel and I that we didn’t exactly come to terms with. When it became clear to me that I wanted to spend my life with you, I told Rachel. She told me she felt the same and wanted to be with Harvey. The kiss...neither one of us meant for it to happen, but it did.” 
“You don’t regret it though?”
He shook his head. Much to his and her own surprise, Y/N gave him a small smile. “I understand.” She paused. “Would you ever have told me about it?” 
“Truthfully?” 
“Honestly.” 
“No.” 
“Fair enough, I guess,” she sighed. “This leads me to a follow up question, why was she the first person you told that you were giving up Batman?” 
“Because a long time ago, she said that when I ended Batman we could be together. I wanted her to know that I was ending Batman but that I chose to be with you.” 
“Were you going to tell me?” 
“Of course.” 
She leaned forward. “It took me a long time to come to terms with everything and if I’m being honest, it took me a long time to really forgive you.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I have to ask you something that’s been bothering me for years.”
“By all means.”
“Did you ever actually plan to have a future with me?”
A small smile crept on his lips. “I did.”
“But you said Rachel-.” 
“A part of me loved her still, but a larger part of me loved you more.” 
She felt her heart shatter once again, just as it did almost eight years ago. “There are so many times I wondered if I had made a mistake walking out that door.” 
“You were rightfully angry, Y/N-.” 
“Not then. That morning after I woke up and you were on the couch and you...and I...” She exhaled. “I wish I never walked out the door that morning.” 
He nodded his head. “And I wish I had stopped you. After all these years, I still wish I did.” 
There was a sense of peace in his words. She still mattered to him, a conformation that she selfishly wondered about all these years.
“Do you wonder what we could’ve been?” Bruce asked, breaking the silence.
“Do you?”
“All time.”
She tilted her head, smiling. “Me too.” She sighed. “I sometimes live in the past too, Bruce.”
She sighed. “I better go. I have to pick up Mallory.” 
His heart broke, realizing their meeting had come to an end. “I’ll walk you out the door.” 
She swung her purse over her shoulder as the two walked together to the entrance of the house.
Stopping at the front door, Bruce scratched back of his head. “Would you ever try again? With me?”
Just as he began to regret his words, he felt her hand caress his cheek. She smiled. “When you’re ready, give me a call.”
As she walked away, Bruce watched her, a hopeful smile played on his lips. 
“I take it the meeting went well?” Alfred inquired. 
“Very much so.” 
“She showed you pics of the child?” 
“Her name is Mallory. She’s beautiful.” 
“Did you tell her?” 
Bruce turned to Alfred. “Not yet. Soon though.” 
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adsosfraser · 3 years
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The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Eleven
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Read on AO3
They had been so careful. On the supposedly most fertile days of her courses, they had, well they had done other things. She religiously took her vial of posies and fennel each day and used the protection provided from her twentieth-century life. For months now. Still, it wasn’t enough, and she knew the only one hundred percent assured prevention was abstinence. She felt the ghost of a flutter in her womb. 
 Jamie found Claire on the floor next to their bed, her cheeks stained with tracks of tears and snot crusted against the deer pelt that her face was squished into. The chamber pot full of her sickness had been shoved away from her on the wood in her dejected anger. 
“Is it true Claire?”
 “Can ye..” he swallowed thickly. “Yer wee herbs can ye-“
 “No, that’s the last thing I want Jamie! God!” Her palms rubbed into her eye sockets. “I just wish- there wasn’t so much uncertainty. I could never survive- Jamie promise me, if it ever came down to it, you would save the child, not me.”
 “Claire,“ he levelled a determined gaze at her. ”That will never happen. Ever. That I will promise ye.”
 “But it might. You made me promise, should the time come, that I’d go through the stones. Of course, I was reluctant, but I did give you that promise. I followed through on it. Now you promise me.” 
 “Aye Claire, I’ll save the bairn, but it’ll no’ come to that.”
 “I’m going to instruct you. On how to help me. No matter if it goes wrong or the delivery is perfect.”
 “Ye wouldna prefer someone else? A woman?”
 “You’re the only one that I would trust.” She smirked in anticipation of her next words. “And you’re the one who did this to me, you can see it through.” 
 “Ye seemed pretty enthusiastic, if not overly pleased the many times I did that to ye. And I seem to recall the many times ye were the one clawing at me.” 
 She laughed at the big goof and then sighed into his embrace, relieving her stress and worry into him. 
 What if the baby never even made it long enough to make its true presence known? What if Jamie did have to follow through in his presence? Would she be able to survive the birth? She’d never given birth to a live, full-term baby yet. Or, even worse, would she be a terrible mother? When her mind drifted to these thoughts, she shook her head out of the daze. Stress wasn’t good for the baby. And if she constantly worried about her child’s health, her thoughts may very well become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
 It was March, and flowers and trees were slowly crawling out of their hibernation. Claire’s pregnancy felt… off from how she carried Faith. It didn’t raise alarm for her baby’s health, but she did have her suspicions.
 “What is it Sassenach? Ye’re smiling so hard I fear yer lips will fall off.” 
 “Well, I have been a bit… bigger than usual.” 
 “Aye, yer round wi’ my bairn. And I’m no’ complaining one bit. Wi’ yer fine plump arse even bigger than usual.” He grasped a healthy amount of said body part and smirked.
 “Well, I think I’m carrying twins.” 
 “Ifrinn!” All the colour drained from his face. “Two bairns? Two bairns! Sassenach!” He gripped her in his arms as joyous laughter rumbled through his chest and her feet left the floor. More words of love in his native language rumbled out and her eyes crinkled with her smile. 
 When she was absolutely sure it was twins, Jamie’s daily ritual of one kiss to her belly each morning and night turned into two kisses on either side of her stretched skin. 
 Not only did one life depend on her at once, but now two. She was terrified. Even with constant reassurance from Jamie that the bairns kicking in her stomach were braw, a twitch of doubt seeped into her mind. 
 To ease her worry, she thought of something that could reassure her. She traced the design onto the back of a discarded pamphlet. A pinard horn. So Jamie could hear the strong heartbeats of the babies tumbling within her belly. Fergus laboured hard on the project immediately, while his ‘milord’ was off working the lands of their croft. It was expertly crafted, even with her rudimentary designs. 
 Jamie manoeuvred the hollow horn over the expanse of her belly, brow furrowed in concentration. He paused over one spot and nearly fainted. 
 “Ah Dhia!” His eyes widened in fascination. “He’s really in there!”
 “Yes, they are.” She placed her hand over his on the pinard horn and slid it across where she thought she felt the other heartbeat to be. 
 His hands were shaky now and he choked on his tears, almost painfully bursting with joy. “Two braw bairns. Wi’ wicked thumping hearts.”
 They felt more concrete to him now, actual people instead of the imaginations of what they could be. He spoke every day to them in Gàidhlig, when Claire said they should be able to hear now.
 It was bittersweet. She was carrying them for over seven months now, longer than her other children. She was constantly caught between unflagging joy and unrelenting grief. Sometimes it felt like a betrayal to be so happy. But she carried through, with her husband and son by her side, and the promise of the future tucked under her heart.
 The day after Jamie’s birthday, she started labouring. Jamie commented on the decency of his children to not eclipse his day with their own arrival. It was as difficult as any other birth, but thankfully there were no complications. Claire had gripped, clawed, and screamed at her husband. She’d scream the promise to have him castrated many, many times. While she paced around the room, Jamie tried to assure her or crack jokes to lighten the atmosphere, but every word he said she turned it against him. He was silent after that, but then Claire would call out for him as each contraction ripped through her body. He stood behind her squatting form above the straw and she dug her nails into his arms as she bore down. A beautiful squalling boy was born after nine hours of labouring. William Brian Beauchamp Fraser. While she felt distraught placing the name Brian within the middle, Jamie assured her it was to not only honour his father, but now the child that they had lost, and she warmed to the idea as well. His brother met the world soon after, almost a quarter of an hour apart, looking exactly the same as the brother who beat him out of the womb. Henry Alexander Murtagh Fraser. Beautiful healthy boys, both with tufts of the same brown downy hair and slanted Fraser cat eyes. 
 They opted to have their sons sleep in their bed that night rather than the cribs Jamie had carved, tucked in securely between their parents. Neither of them could sleep and Claire was watching the steady rise and fall of each small chest. 
 “They’re real.” She whispered, brushing her pinky across William’s cheek. His lips tugged up into a smile, just like his father’s did. 
 “Thanks to ye Claire. Ye were braw.” He squeezed her hand, their arms hovering over their sons. “But I dinna wish to ever see ye like that again.”
 “Is it wrong to feel so happy? To rejoice in my sons while-?” 
 “They’ll be happy fer their brothers. I ken it. And they’re watching o’er them as their angels now. Lord knows how much these lads will need it. These two will be trouble, I can feel it.” He affectionately patted their bums. 
 Claire finally let her exhaustion take over and curled protectively around her son as she drifted off to sleep. Jamie never slept that night, too preoccupied with the sight of his wife and the children she had blessed him with. His wife learned just how real her sons were in the middle of the night when they would scream their lungs out unceasingly until attention was paid to them. Jamie insisted she rest and recover, and leapt up at every cry to take care of it, but was instantly horrified at what he found in the cloth swaddling Willie’s bum. 
 Fergus was elated the next day to meet his new brothers. Jamie and Claire had already spoken many times about how the new babies wouldn’t change anything about how they felt for him, but they could still sense some worry. 
 “Would you like to hold your little brother Willie?” At the indication that it was true, he had a little brother, all his worries vanished.
 “Oui maman.” He was so gentle with them with so much adoration in his eyes, and it made Claire cry just to see her boys together.
 He traded for Henry next and Jamie pulled Claire into his lap. 
 It was six weeks after the birth, and Jamie and Claire were equally ravenous. Both the babies had finally fallen asleep together, being unusually generous to their parents.
 “I need my wife.” He crawled over her. 
 “You still want me? After seeing all that…?” Her confidence has waned slightly. She was still pudgy around the middle and there were new scars lining her belly. There was also the fact that he had seen her sweating, cursing, and wailing like a cow on their bedroom floor before the fire, and had taken multiple peeks down there to check her progress. It was apparent, however, that he wanted her desperately despite of and maybe even because of that fact. 
 “I could never stop wanting ye Sassenach.” He peppered kisses across her abdomen and paid special attention to the fading purple streaks on her skin. The burns on her stomach had long since faded and were barely even noticeable unless one were to look very closely, as her husband was now. She let her knees fall to the side and a moan escaped her lips when he ducked further down. 
 “Now, as much as I love yer wee noises mo nighean donn, ye’ll have to be quiet tonight.” He covered her mouth with his, silencing the cries that he brought out of her body.
 When they both had finished, laying boneless on the sheets, Jamie pulled Claire’s back close to his chest and she curled back into him. Henry began to cry, waking his brother as well and throwing them both into fits of hungry wails. Jamie silently walked over, wrapping his kilt loosely across his hips and placed a baby in each of his arms. The sight made Claire want to ravish him with a sudden ferocity, even though they had just joined together moments ago. But, her babies’ hunger won over and she placed one on each breast. Jamie watched fascinated, as he always did. The babies hungrily gulped down their meal and then slumped against their mom, tired from weeks of growing, crying, and eating. Their tiny fists laid on top of her skin and Jamie slowly adjusted himself to hold Henry. He fell asleep, Henry’s body rising and falling with each of his father’s breaths. Willie stirred again, inquisitively staring up into his mother’s eyes. Claire stroked Henry’s cheek eliciting the same smile she loved so much, and then reached for Jamie’s as well.
 “God, I love you, Jamie. So much.” Her attention shifted down to the babe on her breast. “You have such a wonderful father, don’t you Willie?” She spoke down to her captive audience. “And I love you.” She kissed his small nose, then leaned over for Henry’s “And you.” She pulled on Jamie’s bottom lip. “And God how I love you.”
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mymelodyheart · 3 years
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Miles Between Us Chapter 8 ~Light vs Dark~
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Previously in All in a Day's Work ...
A voice raced through her consciousness, telling her this was the way forward. She knew he needed his control back before he would be able to speak to her. So she got down on her knees and pulled his pants down. 
When he wrapped her hair in his fist and tilted her head back, she smiled. "Now, let's get dirty and exorcise those pesky brain chatter, shall we?" Before he could reply, she took him full in her mouth and worshipped him with her love, absorbing every frustrated growl that ripped from his throat and every emotion that poured out of him with every roll of his hips. 
She pushed him to the edge and over until he found his release, and his loud cries echoed in the air. When he shattered around her, his body slumped onto the floor and into her arms.
Claire knew they had a long night ahead of them, so she cradled him, waiting patiently for his breathing to calm. Later after she bathed him, they would talk, but for now, she was contented just to hold him a little while longer, as she wondered how many of Jamie's demons she would have to slay tonight and if love would be enough to conquer his hell.
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 Jamie reached over to the other side of the bed and stilled when all he grabbed was air. His eyes instantly flew open, and he wondered why he was in bed. He jackknifed into a sitting position, his muscles tensing against the sudden alarm that spiked through his nerves, but when he saw the sliver of light under the door and heard Claire's movement in the bathroom, he eased back onto the mattress with a sigh. 
Memories from earlier suddenly came rushing back to him. He'd arrived home, reeling with the need to expend energy, but not in the healthiest of ways. He'd ran from work after Willie had sent him home, and when he'd arrived to find Claire in the kitchen, the rush of adrenaline had buzzed through him like mad. Though he'd made up with his sister after their confrontation, the run to the cottage hadn't relieved the buildup of anxiety and guilt, but one thing had been clear throughout ...the need to see Claire had been paramount. She'd sensed something was off, but he hadn't anticipated her reading what he'd needed at that moment when he'd himself had no words for the volatile sensation raging within him. Ever since she'd arrived in his life, she'd been unintentionally rearranging everything, and all the painstaking layers he'd patched together over his broken parts were slowly being stripped away, little by little, to reveal what he'd buried underneath. 
Earlier, she'd ripped another layer off when she'd offered her body for his own release. Despite rebelling against it, his body had a mind of its own, taking his fill like a starved man and pacifying the storm within. It had troubled him to see her pleasuring him on her knees and not had been able to reciprocate back, but she'd soothed him with words and her hands. He recalled the shame and fear that had shot through his bloodstream when he thought he'd hurt her with his rough play, but the moment she'd touched him, he'd lost track of everything, the mind-bending pleasure obscuring all reasons, making him feel depleted and whole at the same time. After she'd bathed him as if he was a bairn, she'd towelled his body dry and massaged his back until his limbs had gone pliant and heavy. And just before he'd dozed off, she'd whispered into his ears, "Rest now, my love and later we'll talk." He couldn't argue, even if he'd wanted to. Because, in her, he found his equilibrium, and his skeletons didn't rattle as much whenever she was around. 
He'd just switched on the bedside lamp when the bathroom door opened, and Claire walked in wearing his bathrobe, the sheer size of it almost drowning her small frame. He couldn't help the smile forming his lips. It looked ridiculously too big on her but at the same time too adorable for words. He pushed himself up and patted the space next to him.
Watching her climbed the bed and crawl on all fours, he extended his arm out in an invitation to nestle against him. "How long was I out?" he asked. 
"An hour tops," she replied, kissing him on the lips. Instead of huddling into his arms, she sat cross-legged, facing him, a touch of worry dimming her eyes. "You were knocked out."
"Really? Only an hour? I had no intention of falling asleep. I must have been tired. I feel like I've slept the whole night." Feeling slightly disappointed he couldn't put his arms around her, he took her hand instead and twined their fingers together. 
"Willie dropped off your car, and I have your keys here," she said, pulling them from the pocket of the bathrobe and placing them on the mattress. "How are you feeling?
"Relaxed."
"That's good," she whispered, squeezing his hand.
His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist. "What ye did earlier ..." He felt a stirring in his loins when he remembered her mouth around him. "I would like to verra much do the same for ye if ye'd allow me."
"Jamie ..." she sighed, giving him a small warning look.
He shrugged, his mischievous smile telling her, Oh well! I tried. They eyed each other for a few heartbeats, a silent understanding passing between them. Jamie knew she was patiently waiting for him to initiate the talk. There was no way around it. Not even sex was going to get in the way. It had been a long time coming, and he owed her some explanations. "So ye want to talk ..."
"Would you like to have your dinner first? You haven't eaten yet."
"No, I'm good."
"Good. Let me know if you need anything."
"Aye ..." He moved into a more comfortable position. "Let's get this done and over with."
She gave him an encouraging nod. "Take your time. Whenever you're ready."
"Just a wee warning, Sassenach." He winked at her when he noticed her frown. "If this starts to feel like a therapist appointment, bear in mind I've noted all the available exits," he joked to lighten the mood.
It worked. The corner of her lips twitched. "I'll try my utmost best to keep that in mind."
He settled against the headboard and took a couple of cleansing breaths. It cleared his head a wee bit, allowing him to formulate the right words. Words that wouldn't sound like he was losing his mind. "Guilt," he began. "I told ye already before ...I have a bad case of it." His throat closed up. "It's what keeps me awake most nights, replaying all those things I didnae do right. As most insomniacs would know, nothing solves sleeplessness like a nice warm glass of despair and regret."
A flicker of worry flashed across her face. "Jamie, you told me you were feeling better." She scooted closer to him. "Have you been keeping the truth from me? Because if you are, it's not helping matters."
"No, Sassenach." He shooked his head. "I was telling ye the truth. I was feeling better, but there have been many strange things happening in the past that's just coming to light. The more I try to piece things together, the weirder it gets." He massaged his temple with his fingers. "Christ! Where do I begin?"
"Alright, one thing at a time." She paused, and he saw the cogs behind her eyes, turning. She appeared to be contemplating the best way to make it easy for him. "Did something happened at work earlier?" she asked.
He sighed. "Aye. I blew my top at work. It's unlike me to lose my head like that, especially in front of the other workers. It's kind of frightening when your emotions are beyond your control."
"Did it have anything to do with your episodes?"
"Probably. I'm not sure anymore."
"When you came home earlier, you really looked stressed, Jamie."
He stared at her and thought of the events that day. Ah, shite! Why is this so fucking difficult? They're only in the early phases of their relationship, and already she's tangled up in his web of messed-up issues. Surely this wasn't what she'd bargained for when she decided to take a chance on him? She only had a few days before she returned back to London, but here they were, it's early evening, cooped up in his bedroom trying to sort out his fucked-up head when they could be out on romantic dates. No one, except for his family, had really seen the true depths of his issues, and he'd coped fine for a long time without talking about it. Man up, Fraser - get to the bottom of it! Think of Harry! 
"My sister and I had a fight," he finally said. "But I dinnae think the fight triggered anything. Or maybe a little. Ye see, it's no' the first time we've had a squabble like that. I think the beginning of the episode has more to do with something that has been building up for the last few days. Odd dreams, memories coming to the surface and such. And the sibling bicker was the last straw."
"What do you mean?" she asked. "Has this something to do with your dream the other night? You told me you had a strange dream and you had trouble sleeping."
His heart lurched as he recalled the dream. "Aye. But it goes way before that. Partly, it has something to do with that ..." He hesitated for a moment. "...and with ye."
"With me?" She visibly braced herself, a worried frown appearing on her brows. "Jamie ...if you're concerned about me not being able to cope with your condition and leaving you, you thought wrong. I care for you, and I want to help. But I can't help you if I don't understand what's going on. Whatever you're going through, we'll face it together."
He felt encouraged by the hopeful look she gave him. "But ye dinnae ken half of it."
"No, I don't," she agreed. "But we'll get through it together. Painful as it is to talk about what's hurting you, suppressing it will only make it worse, and there's a danger you could lose yourself and forget the person you are and all the good you have done in the process. If you're waiting for time to erase all those emotional pain, it's not going to happen, Jamie. I know this because I carry a lot of pain, too, and time has done nought to erase it. You just have to acknowledge it and learn to let it go." 
His heart pounded. "This can open up all sorts of hurt, Sassenach ...for ye."
She studied him closely. "Why are you so worried about me getting hurt, Jamie? Ye're the one suffering from this condition."
His gaze lifted to meet hers, and a throbbing began underneath his collarbone. He wondered how much he could reveal about her parents' death without him disintegrating in front of her and scaring her away for good. This is the part where the room would normally close in on him, and then he would start to fidget and eventually clamp up. An uncomfortable pressure stretched against his rib cage, making it difficult to suck in a breath. They were already at the point of no return. But Claire's eyes instantly grounded him, turning the chaos in his head from a bright, blazing red to a cool, soothing blue. 
He swallowed his mounting anxiety, focusing on healing what had been damaged inside of him. "Before anything else, Sassenach ...what do ye remember about yer parents' death?"
"Wot?" Her voice sounded throaty. "Why is it relevant?"
He loathed the sudden uncertainty sneaking into her expression. He wished he could go back and take back the words. "I'm sorry, but it's pertinent that I know."
She let go of his hand and rubbed her palms repeatedly along her thighs. "I -I was with my parents when the accident happened. I never told you this part before."
The image of young Claire trapped at the back seat of the car flared to life. His head fell forward with a groan, and when she touched his shoulder, he waved a hand and motioned for her to go on.
"I don't remember much except for the feeling of being very frightened and wanting to be with my mother. After that, everything was a blur."
"Have ye ever talked to your uncle about it?" 
"Sort of," she said, scrunching up her shoulders. "When I was old enough to understand. But never in-depth." She stopped and eyed him suspiciously. "Jamie, what's with the questions about my parents? Are you trying to change the direction of this conversation?"
"No! No' at all!" He shifted position and squeezed his eyes shut for a beat. When he opened them again, he puffed out a breath. "Your parents ...the car ...I was there when it happened." She looked bewildered, but he didn't stop. "I was on my way to see my godfather. I-I was ten. And I had this ..."
"What do you mean you were there?"
Oh, God, give me strength. "I saw yer parents' accident," he said rapidly. She gasped and cupped a hand over her mouth. Shaking his head, he continued. "I ...I always thought my condition began right after my best mate died in the war zone. But it was way before that. I saw something that a child should never have to see, but I did. I would have told ye all these sooner if I had known. The dream ...I had the other night brought back all those horrific memories. Christ, Sassenach ..." He dropped his head into his hands. "I wish there's an easier way to say this. I'm so sorry for bringing this up, and I just cannae ..."
"Jamie ..." 
Then the dam shattered, and everything came pouring out of him. He told her how Harry had first appeared into his life, coming to his aid in Glasgow when he'd fallen down onto his knees while going through an episode. And the mysterious ways the older man would pop up whenever he was in dire need of help. He spoke of his suspicions of what or who he'd thought Harry might have been after his family had questioned his friend's identity over New Year's Eve lunch at Lallybroch. And how his theory had been further validated the moment Murtagh had mentioned having known Claire's parents. Then his voice faltered when he told her what his godfather had told him the other day, about him being witness to her parents' accident as a young boy. And how seeing uncle Lamb's similarity to Harry had triggered the dream and brought back all the suppressed memories. He told her how he'd held her that fateful day and how the memories of that event changed him forever, vowing to himself nothing like that would ever happen again under his watch.
By the time Jamie finished, he felt weightless. Like he'd been lugging around sandbags on his shoulders all his life, and they'd just been ripped open, dumping their contents onto the ground.
When he finally glanced up, Claire was immobile, staring at the wall behind him. The unfocused expression he'd seen the other night when he'd asked about her parents was back, only this time she appeared more thoughtful.
"Sassenach?"
Her gaze cut to his. "So you knew my dad."
"I did." She must have sensed his sincerity because she closed her eyes and her lips quivered a bit as if she's trying her hardest to keep her emotions in check. Christ, he wanted to drag her away from all the pain he'd just brought up. He didn't like seeing her like this. He'd told her more than he'd been prepared to, and they should call it a wrap for now. But he needed to know if there were any mental scars she'd been nursing and if so, he wondered if he'd made it worse. If he did, he'd never forgive himself. "Sassenach, please tell me ye're alright."
Her gaze lifted to meet his, and she hugged herself close. "I think so," she whispered. "Just give me a few minutes to let it all sink in, alright? Don't give up on me just yet." They simultaneously took a deep breath, making her smile at the realisation. He resisted the urge to pull her onto his lap and focused on what she had to say. He'd already said his bit, and now it was her turn. So he listened. "That moment at the pub, when I first laid eyes on you, I had this strong feeling we've always known each other. I even said to myself, maybe we did ...in another lifetime. All this while we had no idea we were both connected through my dad."
"Aye, I felt the same way, Sassenach, and I put it down simply to a strong attraction between us. I even thought it would pass, but the more I got to know ye, the more I wanted more of ye. It frightened the hell of me, firstly because of where ye live. I didnae think our relationship could work with my condition. And secondly, because I didnae want my burden to be yer burden. It would kill me if ye had to go through what I've been going through almost all my life."
She seemed transfixed as she made a move towards him, reminding him of the way she'd looked just before they're about to make love. Pressure rolled off him the moment she straddled his lap, leaving him almost light-headed when she tenderly placed a hand against the side of his face. "Do you realise what an extraordinary man you are?" She tunnelled her fingers through his hair, making his eyelids fall to half-mast. "You see, Jamie ...only good men feel the load of their burdens. And exceptional ones like you persist on taking more. Because of you, I want to be a better person and take some of your burdens. The same way you've carried the burden of my parents' death all this while." She laid her head into the crook of his shoulder, snuggling into his neck in a way that somehow mended a broken part of him. "Growing up without them has been hard, and it still pains me a lot when I think of what could have been. But I realise now, sometimes death has a heart, and we can't beat ourselves up for recognising it." A few heartbeats passed before she met his gaze. "Out of tragedy, we found each other, and that means their death must count for something, don't you think?"
The simplicity of her words, her acceptance of their past, the vulnerable girl he saw underneath the confident woman she was today reached every damaged corner of his being. There was no choice but to press their bodies together.
He pulled her closer and gently combed his fingers through her curls as he brushed his lips against hers. His thumb caressed her cheek before cupping it in his hand. When she smiled, his fingers tugged her chin to bring her mouth back to his. The kiss deepened, his fingers fumbling with the ties of the bathrobe she's wearing before pushing it down over her shoulders. Fluidly, never breaking contact, his lips travelled down her throat, her back arching to offer her breast. He was about to take a nipple to his mouth when he noticed a band of bruise circling her arm. He jerked back and realised there was an identical one on her other arm.
A sick feeling settling in his gut, he touched one of the bruises with his index finger. "What's this?" he asked, even though deep inside, he knew the answer already.
She rubbed it with a hand as if it was nothing. "Jamie, don't worry about it. I have pale skin, and I bruise like a peach."
He ground his teeth and shook his head. "I did this earlier, didn't I? When I came home from work, right after the fight with Jenny."
When she flinched, he felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had been thrown over him. He lifted her off his lap and got out of bed, and went to stand by the window.
"Jamie, it was nothing. We were playing rough, and these things happen."
He could feel the darkness coming back again, trying to shroud him. He needed to concentrate on his breathing. When a woman like Claire loved with such fierceness, surely that love should have enough light to push the dark away. But he was coming down hard and fast, and the sick feeling in his guts was trying to make its way up, making him want to gag.
He heard her approach, and he steeled himself when she wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her head on the centre of his back. "Jamie, you didn't hurt me. You have to believe me."
How could he want Claire's love and feel the unshakable compulsion to run away at the same time? Her arms were circled around him so tight, he thought she might be trying to join them together as one. A huge part of him wanted them joined together, but the darker side of him was scared to death. He'd allowed her to soothe him with every word, every touch. But now it was high time to get rid of the blinders. His chest hurt, and every fear he'd succeeded to overcome throughout the last few days poured down on his head.
Claire shouldn't want the man he'd become, who had a tendency to inflict pain and bruises on her skin when under the influence of his episodes even if it wasn't intended. He thought of Jenny earlier and the frightened look on her face, his fists curled, ready to cause injury. This relationship with Claire would be over as soon as she realised she'd saddled herself with a sick man with the potential to be violent, and he knew he wouldn't be able to bear it when that day came. It was up to him to make sure she didn't make this mistake because she deserved more, and he loved her too much to allow her to be blinded by their love. He didn't want her to make that error. 
"Claire ...I need to go."
Claire turned him to face her, weariness dimming her normally bright amber eyes. He'd done this to her, snuffed out the light in her. But she was so beautiful, her curls, wrecked and wild, mouth puffy from their kisses. "I'm not letting you go, Jamie. We're in this together. You have to believe me when I say you didn't hurt me and that you are a good man. You don't have it in you to hurt anyone."
Her words were hot irons branding his insides. "Dinnae say those things in the heat of the moment. Ye're too good of a person to realise when something bad is standing right under yer nose."
"You're not making any sense Jamie. Come back to bed, please ...and we'll talk it over." She was close to tears, and it was breaking his heart to see her like this. "I meant it when I said I love you and nothing ...not even this condition that you have will drive me away from you."
Jamie exhaled a sharp breath. "I need to clear my head." He walked away from her and grabbed the jeans, hanging neatly over the chair.
"I know what you're trying to do, Jamie. I can see right through you. You want to leave me because you think you're a danger to me. You're wrong." She tugged his arm and attempted to pull him towards her, but he remained still, looking anywhere but into her eyes. She grasped his face with both her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Look at me! I want you to know I'm not afraid of a fight. Just tell me what I'm up against so I can knock it down for you."
It took a lot of willpower to remain upright and resist the urge to voice out his fears. He knew she would be able to defeat his doubts, but for how long? Those fears would grow back even bigger and more persistent once time had passed and the outside world began to encroach on them. "Let me go, Sassenach."
"Never, Jamie. You said on the day before I left for London we were in this together, you and I. I'm holding my side of the bargain, and I will not let you go. So you better get used to that." 
He turned away and started to scramble for the rest of his clothes. When he finished pulling up his jeans and putting on his t-shirt and shoes, it took him what seemed like an eternity to face her. Her face was ashen as she drew the bathrobe around her. "I'm done talking, for now, Claire."
Tears streamed down her face as he grabbed his phone and keys and made his way out. He couldn't get out of the cottage fast enough. His heart hammered, his ears started to ring, his lungs squeezing out the last air. He'd hurt her. He'd seen the bruises with his eyes, and now she's crying because of him. He needed to get out fast to clear his head.
She followed him closely behind. "Please tell me where you're going, Jamie. At least give me that," she pleaded.
He couldn't stand to see her tears anymore or hear the plea in her voice. He was doing what's right for her because he loved her too much. He wasn't even sure where he was going or if anyone would be safe in his presence. All he could think of was how frightened his sister had looked at him and the bruises he'd inflicted in Claire's arms. He needed to get as far away as possible, away from the people he loved.
He got into his car, slammed the door, and started the engine. 
Claire banged on his window, her face wet with tears. "Don't do this, Jamie. We can fix this together. Please don't go. I'm begging you." 
"I love you, Sassenach. I love you so much," he mumbled under his breath as he jerked his car into gear, reversing from his driveaway. The wheels spun and screeched as he pulled away, his body shaking and his heart shattering into tiny pieces. 
Claire's safe now, he reassured himself, gripping the steering wheel tight, safe and far from the stifling darkness closing in.  
..........
Claire watched Jamie's car disappear into the darkness. She wanted to scream and crumple to the ground out of sheer despair and fear. But she realised her presence of mind was needed at this moment. She needed to call someone and alert them to what happened. Jamie could be in danger. Willie!
She ran back to the house and grabbed her phone. With shaking fingers, she wiped the tears from her eyes and tapped on the screen. She'd just managed to find Willie's name when her phone rang. She saw it was her uncle Lamb. Oh God now's not the time. Though frustrated, she answered. "Hello?"
The line crackled before uncle Lamb spoke. "Sweetheart, it's me. I hope the Scottish weather is holding up because I'm on my way for a visit. We had another setback at work, and I didn't want to hang around, scratching my arse doing nothing. I'll be arriving in four days. I hope you'll still be there; otherwise, I'll change my flight ticket to London."
Not wanting to alert her uncle with her worries about Jamie, she cleared her throat and tried to sound cheerful. "That's great! I'll be here, and I can't wait to see you! But I really need to run along. So many things going on." It wasn't a lie, but she would call him back once she'd sorted out this mess she was dealing with. "I'll call you later."
"That's fine, darling. I can't wait to meet, Jamie ..."
Oh, dear, God, please help me.
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  Dear Readers,
Firstly, I'm sorry if this took slightly longer to update. My excuse: my computer has gone funny on me. I need to buy a new PC, and I've been busy looking on the net for one, hence the delay of this update.
Moving along, I'm asking you to please bear with me with this chapter. I understand it's a bit heavy and slightly dark, but it had to be done because it is necessary if the story is to gel together. Despite the heavy undertone of this latest update, I hope you've enjoyed it, and you get what I'm trying to put across. On a much brighter note, thank you so much for your feedback from the previous chapter. I love it when I read your thoughts about a scene or plot. They are so appreciated, and I'm already looking forward to what you think of this latest instalment. Meanwhile, wishing you a great start to the week. Take care of yourself always and be safe. Much love.X
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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years
Text
Craving
ShinoMitsu Week 2021 Day Four: (Time Skip, Craving, Fashion) Really could be time skip too, just a small one.
A/N: Here we are, safe to read for anyone, manga reader or not! Please enjoy the rest of the week! It’s all fluff : ) Word Count: 2,056
Shinobu checked the time on her phone, noting with surprise, that it was nearly midnight. She marked her page and pushed her heavy textbook aside before stretching her arms high above her head.
Getting up from her desk with the intent of going to bed, she only just pulled back her covers when her phone buzzed in her hand. There was only one person who would be texting her this late and she could bet she knew exactly what they were texting about.
She looked down at her phone and sure enough, Mitsuri’s name shone back at her with a simple one word question surrounded by an array of puppy dog eye and heart emojis. It read, “food?”.
Shinobu was no stranger to Mitsuri’s late night cravings by now. A smile tugged at Shinobu’s lips as she typed out her reply, “Sure. Usual?”
Almost immediately Mitsuri responded with an enthusiastic, “yes!” and even more emojis. Shinobu chuckled to herself and then headed to her closet to change out of her lounge clothes.
Every once in awhile since they had started dating officially a couple months ago, Mitsuri would text or call Shinobu in the late hours of the night to join her for a midnight meal. Something about food always tasting better when sharing it with someone you love. Shinobu was happy to go wherever Mitsuri asked, whenever she asked, but the late night excursions always left her drained and grumpy in the morning. It was worth it to her though. She was just amazed at how much stamina the older girl had. Shinobu was convinced Mitsuri was superhuman, pulling all nighters seemingly without consequence.
Shinobu finished putting on her shoes and quietly exited her home in the dead of night. Kanae already knew about the habit, having teased Shinobu relentlessly after catching her coming home in the wee hours of the morning. She just asked that her sister keep her phone and pepper spray on her for protection.
Shinobu walked for a couple blocks towards the nearby shops. Many were darkened at this late hour, but a few still glowed with promises of warm food. A little further down, she spotted Mitsuri waiting on the sidewalk, a young, disheveled man appeared to be talking to her. Her guard immediately went up and she picked up her pace.
“I’m jus’ sayin’ is not safe for pretty girls t’ be out alone at nigh’. Lemme keep all the baddies away, huh? I’ll walk ya t’ my place an—“
“Back off. She’s fine.” Shinobu put a protective hand over Mitsuri’s back, the other was covering the pepper spray in her pocket. Glaring up at the greatly intoxicated man.
The man laughed in her face, making Shinobu wrinkle her nose at his foul breath. The man had no idea who he was dealing with and tried to pull Mitsuri into what he thought would be a hilarious joke.
“Aw, are you lost little girl? We can drop you off at the elementary schaAAAHH!”
Shinobu didn’t bother with the pepper spray, instead she kicked him so hard that he fell into the gutter, holding himself tightly as he squeaked a string of expletives between wheezes.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Shinobu said, already moving Mitsuri away from the drunken imbecile.
“Did you have to be so harsh?” Mitsuri asked, interlacing her fingers with Shinobu’s and swinging the entangled limbs between them.
“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe he’ll learn that not every girl out on the street is there for his pleasure and remember to mind his own business from now on.” Shinobu grumbled.
“He was rather insistent. Thanks for helping me, my knight.” Mitsuri leaned over to place a kiss in Shinobu’s hair, making her cheeks become a little rosy. If pressed about it, she would have blamed it on the chilly night air.
“Next time wait inside the restaurant, okay?” Shinobu asked.
“But I was so excited to see you!”
“You would see me either way.” Shinobu rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself.
They walked into the western breakfast chain restaurant. The smell of syrup and bacon warmed the girls up immediately. They were quickly seated as there were hardly any other patrons who wanted a western breakfast so late at night. However, if a bar decided to close earlier, it would almost certain to get more lively in there. For now though, it was peaceful.
They were seated at a booth in front of the window and were given their menus. Mitsuri wiggled happily in her seat as she browsed through, trying to decide what she’d like to order.
“When I first texted you I was thinking pancakes but you can never go wrong with waffles!” Mitsuri grinned. “Now if I could just figure out the right combo order...”
“If you come up with any complications let me know, I’ll be happy to coordinate with your desires.” Shinobu smiled in return, as she glanced over the menu herself.
“I love you so much.” Mitsuri declared. “I desire you above all else, you sweet and amazing girl!”
“Love you too.” Shinobu bashfully replied. She still couldn’t get over how Mitsuri could say such things so freely. She didn’t seem to realize the gravity her words carried sometimes.
They figured out what they wanted and ordered. After a bit of talk about school, then family, and what they might like to that weekend, the conversation fell to a lull and Shinobu tried to hide a yawn in her sleeve.
“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Mitsuri nudged Shinobu’s foot playfully under the table, “you could have told me you wanted to stay in.”
“I’m not that tired. I’d rather spend time with you anyway,” Shinobu nudged her back.
Mitsuri covered her blushing face in her hands and Shinobu laughed. Their food arrived shortly after and soon the only sound beside the clatter of dishes in the background and quiet chatter, was Mitsuri’s enthusiastic humming as she sampled every item on her plate, as well as Shinobu’s.
“You’re reminding me of Rengoku-sensei right now,” Shinobu laughed, clearing her throat before taking a bite of her own food. “Tasty!” She declared, though more quietly and with less enthusiasm than the teacher would have. Mitsuri quickly caught on and giggled along.
“I love Rengoku-sensei, you know he’s the volleyball coach too, right? I guess spiking wasn’t the only thing I picked up from him.”
“He should think about switching to coaching track, Tomioka is such a bore. It’s a wonder he got the job in the first place.”
“You would miss Tomioka if he left, don’t deny it.”
“Only because he’s so fun to mess with.” Shinobu clarified.
“Of course.” Mitsuri nodded, a knowing smile forming around her fork as she savored another bite of Shinobu’s meal.
By the time they finished eating their meal and a shared dessert, it was nearly one in the morning and Shinobu was definitely feeling it. It was a good thing she didn’t have early practice tomorrow because she needed every minute of sleep she could possibly get before heading to school in a couple of hours.
Mitsuri noticed Shinobu’s fatigue and insisted she hop in a taxi with her to get home. An idea that Shinobu had no issue agreeing to, the sooner she got into her bed, the better.
It was a relatively short walk to Shinobu’s, so the drive was even shorter. However, almost as soon as they had buckled in and gave the taxi driver the address, Shinobu had fallen asleep and her head lolled onto Mitsuri’s shoulder as the taxi turned onto the street.
Mitsuri simpered, containing the squee she felt bubbling in her throat so as not to disturb her very cute girlfriend’s slumber until they made it to her front door.
When the driver pulled up, she quietly thanked and paid him before gently shaking Shinobu awake.
“Shinobu-chan, we’re here. Time to get up.” Mitsuri whispered, giggling when the other girl released a grumpy grunt and burrowed deeper into her side, trying to sap up all the warmth Mitsuri had to offer. Mitsuri directed her attention back to the driver waiting patiently in the front seat.
“Sorry, this might be a little tricky.” She apologized, undoing her seatbelt and Shinobu’s before opening the door.
“Yeah, sure.” The driver nodded. There were be worse things he could be dealing with on a Thursday night.
Mitsuri propped Shinobu back up against the seat and got out of the car, crouching over so she could pull Shinobu closer to the door. Once she was close enough, she hooked her arms under the sleeping girl’s back and knees, carefully lifting her out of the car with care and ease. What she appreciated most being as strong as she was, was how easy it was to pick Shinobu up. Even if Shinobu didn’t always like it.
“Thanks again.” She nodded to the driver, getting a grunt in response. She knocked the door close with the side of her foot and made her way up Shinobu’s stoop before realizing this was actually going to be a bit harder than she anticipated.
“Hey, Shinobu, do you think you could get your key out and open the door for me?” Mitsuri asked, adjusting her hold.
Slowly, Shinobu’s eyes peeled open though just a smidge. She looked reminiscent of a grouchy, sour child and it was the cutest thing Mitsuri had ever seen.
“Put me down.” Shinobu fussed, lightly slapping Mitsuri’s arm. “Just because you can pick me up, doesn’t mean you should.”
“But you are so cute and sleepy! I couldn’t just leave you in the back of the taxi anyway.” Mitsuri said in return, though she did as Shinobu asked and set her down.
Shinobu dug around in her bag, it’s strap hung over Mitsuri’s shoulder, silently cursing every time she picked up something that wasn’t the key to her front door. Finally, with a small noise of triumph she picked up the right item and unlocked the front door.
The sleepy track runner pulled Mitsuri inside with her before locking the door snuggly behind her. Then she sat down to take off her shoes, motioning for Mitsuri to do the same.
“Come on it's late, your parents would rather you be here than out by yourself.” Shinobu said.
“Thanks, Shinobu!” Mitsuri clapped softly. She was always excited to stay the night.
“Mhm, now hurry up.” Shinobu said impatiently, already stumbling to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
Mitsuri kicked off her shoes and followed after her. She had already stayed over frequently enough that she had her own little pack of bathroom supplies in the cupboard. They brushed their teeth together before heading to Shinobu’s room to change into more comfortable clothes.
Mitsuri claimed one of Shinobu’s large and all encompassing hoodies and after shooting her parents a text about her whereabouts, she leapt into Shinobu’s futon with a satisfied giggle.
As grumpy and tired as Shinobu was, she couldn’t help but smile warmly at the endearing girl. She slipped into bed behind Mitsuri and wrapped her arm over her. The older girl hugged the arm to her chest sighing happily. Her back pressed snuggly into Shinobu’s front.
“Did you set up an alarm for school?” Mitsuri whispered.
“Regrettably, yes.” Shinobu sighed into the back of Mitsuri’s neck.
“Thanks for coming out with me tonight.” Mitsuri spoke up again after a few minutes.
“You’re welcome,” Shinobu mumbled, pressing a small kiss into Mitsuri’s skin.
“What do you want to do after school tomorrow?”
“Mitsuri I love you, but please, go to sleep.”
“But I’ve got another craving...” Mitsuri said, a mischievous little smile tugging at her lips as she left Shinobu shuffle in the covers to lean above her.
“What the hell, Mitsu? Why didn’t you say something before we left the restaurant?” Shinobu repined.
“Don’t worry, it’s something really easy that you can give me without even leaving this bed.” Mitsuri cryptically responded, craning her head back to bat her eyelashes at Shinobu.
Shinobu released an amused huff of air from her nose, immediately understanding what the other girl wanted. She leaned down and kissed Mitsuri’s honey sweet lips, nearly making her swoon.
“Good night.” Shinobu breathed once they broke apart, laying back down fully against the futon.
“Good night indeed.” Mitsuri murmured dreamily in return.
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officerbrowneyes · 3 years
Note
Marcus Moreno headcanons? I have so many! Here you go: an accidental first kiss that neither can forget and results in awkwatd situations days and weeks afterwards until a second kiss happens :)
I hope you like this drabble! I once again have subscribed to the Marcus x Nanny trope. I will not accept any criticism on this. Also, sorry this is so late! My fiancé and I are sick with a horrible cold! I hope this was worth the wait! 🥰
Marcus Moreno kissing under the read more! 👁👄👁
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Missy and I had been watching the news together when we saw her father, Marcus Moreno, and the other Heroics spring into action. For her own benefit, I turned off the television in hopes that playing a game or watching a movie would be the best option. Although Missy didn’t vocalize it, she was far more worried about her father than she led on. She fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist, anxiously awaiting Marcus’s husky voice to come through. But, she and I both knew that whenever he was in battle, he very seldom had time to talk.
It was getting closer and closer to Christmas and I had noticed that the tree still wasn’t up and the house was quite bare in terms of decorations in general. My eyes lit up as I turned to Missy, and grabbed her delicately, to turn her away from the television screen.
“Hey, what about me and you get the tree from the basement and liven this place up? I’m sure your dad would love to come home to some Christmas cheer!” I beamed, trying to distract his little mini - me. Missy nodded excitedly, as she grinned from ear to ear.
“Yeah! Let’s do it!” She cheered, as she ran towards the basement door. I nervously turned to face the television screen before following after Missy, grabbing boxes upon boxes of Christmas decorations. Every now and then I could tell she was still thinking about her father, but for the most part, my distraction seemed to have helped, as we both ended up falling asleep on the sofa after many hours of decorating. The two of us must have been in such a deep sleep that neither of us heard the door opening. I stirred slightly as the shuffling of heavy feet came closer to the living room. I heard a throaty chuckle, but assumed it was just my imagination. It was only when I heard Marcus whispering to Miss that it was time for bed, that I realized he was home.
“Come on baby, it’s time for bed.” He whispered to his daughter sweetly, as he yawned loudly. Missy grumbled inaudibly, as she pulled her body off of the sofa, and stumbled to her feet.
“Daddy?” She sleepily asked, making him laugh out another yawn.
“It’s me baby. Time for bed.” He said sweetly, as he ushered her up the stairs. Marcus began stepping closer to me, and suddenly my heart was a flutter with anticipation, as I heard his deep booming voice fanning over my ear. “Thank you, for everything.” He whispered, causing me to turn at the most inopportune moment. Our lips connected by mistake, as I assume Marcus meant to kiss my cheek. Our eyes flew open, and suddenly I was no longer sleepy. I shot up from the sofa, the two of us shouting as we both accidentally butted heads.
“OW!” We both said at the same time, as we held our now throbbing heads.
“I’m sorry I just --- “
“I thought you were --- “ He stammered anxiously.
“I thought you were too, but I was ---”
“I know! That’s why — I --- I’m sorry!” He apologized, as I ripped the blanket off of the sofa to conceal my breasts that were hanging out of my white crop top. My face was at least fifteen different shades of red, as I swallowed audibly.
“I -- It’s fine. I’m --- I’m just gonna go to bed! Night!” I said hurriedly, as Marcus noddly, nearly tripping over the coffee table.
“Y -- Yeah! Goodnight!” He said in a panicked voice, as I charged up the stairs to my bedroom. I threw myself down onto the bed, and panted heavily. I --- I just kissed my boss. Sure, it was an accident, but I still did it! Oh God. Why! Why!? It’s not that I didn’t have feelings for him. I did! I --- I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was so unbelievably sexy. He was a Goddamn superhero dreamboat. But --- I was the help. Hired help. I just kissed the man who wrote my checks! I --- I’m such an idiot! Why did I move?!
I continued to admonish myself until the wee hours of the morning when eventually sleep overcame me. Marcus and I didn’t speak much the following days. Occasionally, he would mumble the small ‘Good morning’ before darting off with Miss to school and work. At dinner the two of us avoided eye contact, and nearly collided in the kitchen when the two of us loaded the dishwasher. It was painfully awkward. I had even considered resigning, had it not been for the fact that I had grown attached to both of them.
Finally, when Missy was at a friends house, Marcus managed to corner me as I loaded all of our laundry into the washer.
“Y/N can we --- umm...can we talk upstairs?” He asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of his gloriously thick neck. I nodded shyly as I tried my best not to let my knees buckle under this man's hypnotic gaze.
“Yes! I -- I mean, yeah! Yeah, sure!” I struggled to get out, as Marcus smiled a toothy - grin, motioning me to head up the stairs before him. The two of us met at the entryway to the living room, as I awkwardly balanced the laundry basket on my bare hip.
“Umm --- about that night…” He started, as I shook my head, trying not to relive that horrendous moment.
“Say no more! Let’s just forget this ever happened!” I chirped, as I turned to walk away. The basket fell from my hands, as Marcus grabbed my arm gently.
“Wait, Y/N. I ---” Marcus swallowed as he adjusted his thick frames nervously. “Look --- I...I’m not real good at this anymore…” He trailed off, as he chuckled shyly. “I -- umm --- I --- I like you. A lot. That night --- that isn’t how it was supposed to go.” I felt my hands clamming up as my lips parted slightly. “Can we try again?” He asked, pulling me in closer. Marcus pointed to the entryway where a small bundle of mistletoe hung with small twinkling lights attached to it. My breathing was becoming heavier as Marcus’s hand brushed a long strand of hair from my face.
“Is this okay?” He breathed. I nodded stupidly, my eyes glazing over as his nose brushed against mine.
“Yeah.” I muttered, as he smiled softly.
“Good.” He replied, as our lips connected after what felt like hours. But, as cliche as it sounds; as soon as our lips connected, time stopped. His pouty lips moved against mine slowly. His hand left my cheek, and steadily made its way down my spine. I shivered, as my shaky hands left his chest, snaking around his thick and tan neck. My fingers gingerly stroking at the small hairs that stuck out of his perfectly styled hair. The two of us let out a small chuckle, as his glasses slid down his nose. He quickly tossed them onto the sofa, as held me close to his chest. His velvety lips felt like heaven. Better than anything I could have ever imagined.
“Mmm…” I moaned into the kiss, as he darted his tongue out in between slightly more passionate kisses. I timidly opened my mouth, allowing him entry. He parted his lips as well. My heart was beating faster than ever, as I slid my tongue past his rosy lips. He tasted better than I could have ever imagined too. His hands slipped under my crop top as he stroked at my bare skin, moaning into my mouth, sending shivers down my spine. His tongue and lips were hasty in their pursuit, leaving me breathless. Finally, the two of us pulled away, panting and shaking. Marcus let out a small chuckle, as he shook his head. I crinkled my nose as I nudged him playfully.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, feeling my cheeks heat up, fearing I did something embarrassing. Marcus shook his head, as he grinned impishly.
“I just can’t believe Missy was right about the mistletoe.” He chuckled, causing the two of us to burst out into a fit of laughter.
“Remind me to thank her later.”
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snootch · 3 years
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I’m having awful insomnia so, instead of working on the last chapter of the fic I haven’t updated in Weeks, I wrote this one-shot instead. Enjoy.
XueXiao general rating coffin house drabble.
Amidst the dark of the Coffin House, the familiar shuffling echoed through the bare room. By now, Xiao Xingchen was used to the restlessness of their dear house guest. The man had stayed longer than anyone had anticipated, likely including the man himself. After all, it seemed natural to have him around now and Xingchen could barely complain about the extra hands and the addition of the only working eyes among them. The nightly shuffling was a strange comfort, a reminder that he was still there, despite the ever present knowledge that their accommodations were painfully lacking.
The house was dirty. It was falling apart. The walls had weathered cracks and the ceiling was poorly patched together by inexperienced hands. The brutal winter air seeped in through countless holes in the construction, contributing to the overall sleeplessness among the strange family of three. It was normal in these times for the youngest, A-Qing, to find her bed beside Xiao Xingchen on the makeshift straw and blankets on the floor, nearest to the fireplace that was painfully cold tonight. The firewood had run out too early this season and they all found themselves suffering for it.
Although considerably less common, it too was normal for the other man to find his bed beside them. The self-designated ChengMei finally resigned to the cold and shimmied in beside them, carefully burrowing into the pile of tattered blankets with movements meant not to disturb the sleeping figures. Just as Xingchen never complained about the added company, he didn’t complain about the added warmth on such harsh nights. In a regular house,  no man would admit to welcoming another man into his bed, but in the Coffin House, no one uttered a word against it.
The shuffling fell silent and Chengmei’s form pressed against Xingchen’s comfortably, the curves of his body feeling just familiar against his own. The night ticked by slowly and the two strays he’d adopted dozed off around him. With a body on either side, the cold-driven ache and stiffness ebbed from his joints and he felt himself relax. Just like the one to his right, Xingchen was no stranger to sleepless nights and was left staring into the darkness as the harmonious breathing slowed against him.
A small smile twitched at his lips any time Chengmei or A-Qing adjusted in their sleep, nuzzling closer to him, letting limbs drape over him thoughtlessly. It was a rare occurence to find Chengmei so unguarded, so utterly unlike his waking self who so effortlessly played a free-spirited persona despite the obvious refrains in movement and speech. When an arm snaked across his chest, Xingchen couldn’t help but seize the opportunity to place his hand over Chengmei’s and loosely intertwine their fingers together.
Moments passed and heartbeats told the time as Xiao Xingchen slowly found himself realizing the cause for Chengmei’s guarded behavior. The tips of his fingers found the four knuckles of the man’s hand, snaking up only three soft fingers. Xingchen paused with a furrowed brow, holding his breath to listen for Chengmei’s, studying the rise and fall of his shoulders to be sure he was still asleep before moving his hand down to the fourth knuckle, feeling around the disfigured joint.
The face of a different man flashed in Xingchen’s mind. A man who’s cruelty defined him, who didn’t have a single caring bone in his body, who’d sooner rip Xingchen’s throat out with his own teeth than rest his head on his shoulder to sleep. And that was precisely the man who’d spent the past year helping Xingchen patch the roof of the house, go shopping for groceries, cook breakfast every morning, fix the holes in A-Qing’s robes, the man who’s head was rested on Xingchen’s shoulder to sleep.
A horrified frown battled with Xiao Xingchen’s face, trying to keep quiet while begging to cry out all at once. If finding sleep had been difficult until now, it would be impossible for the rest of the night. His mind raced, forcing him wide awake to reconcile with the realization, all while trapped under Xue Yang’s limbs. All he could do was recoil his hand, a futile attempt to limit the contact he had with the other man.
Why did Xue Yang stay? Why did he not kill the two blind fools as soon as he’d healed enough to walk? What reasoning could the deviant possibly have for settling into such a dull, domestic life with Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing? Xingchen wracked his brain for hours, searching for any reason that made sense, but Xue Yang himself had never made sense. The obvious answer was that Xingchen had, indeed, saved his life, but what would a life debt mean to someone like him?
The past year replayed in Xingchen’s mind, recalling all the subtle anecdotes and coded stories ‘Chengmei’ had told them about himself. He’d always regarded their dear house guest as somewhat childish, having a determined black-and-white sense of thinking. Every interaction with the other inhabitants of Yi City was handled as a transaction where the other person was judged harshly. Chengmei chattered to him freely, speaking either exceptionally high of sweet old ladies and generous store vendors or startlingly low of anyone he perceived to be taking advantage of Xingchen or A-Qing’s blindness.
Taking Xue Yang’s hand in his own again, Xingchen felt for the missing appendage, reassuring himself for at least the fifth time that he hadn’t imagined the deformity. The sleeping figure stirred slightly, his face pressing further into Xingchen’s neck with a string of inaudible sleep-talk. The hand on his chest gripped the front of his shirt for a moment, matching the tensing of muscles at his side. The train of thought slowed in Xingchen’s mind, reading the signs of distress stirring in the sleeping man.
What does someone like Xue Yang have nightmares about? With the skill and flippancy to kill whoever he liked, what could bring him fear in his sleep? Xingchen wondered if it had to do with whatever had brought him to be bloodied and half-dead in a ditch, but something in his gut told him that wasn’t quite it. After a few moments, Xue Yang’s body relaxed again and his breathing steadied out.
In the wee hours of the morning, sleep finally caught up to Xiao Xingchen. He had his own dreams, strange and disjointed with Xue Yang at the center of each. When morning came, he welcomed the daily chores as a distraction.
“Daozhang, you’re so quiet this morning.” The voice called out to him shortly after A-Qing had slipped away to wash up. “It’s making me curious.”
“Curious?” Xingchen responded at half attention, busying himself with washing rice for breakfast.
“You look deep in thought.” The figure drew up behind him, the weight of a chin appearing on his shoulder. “I’m curious what you’re thinking about.”
Xingchen’s hands slowed. He’d pondered the danger of confronting Xue Yang about his identity and come to no good answer.
“Only that it’s cold.” He replied after a long while. “No matter how many holes we patch, the house is still cold... Why have you never left for somewhere better?”
The man moved to stand behind him, the sound of chopping vegetables filling the space between their words.
“Where should I go that’s better?” He asked. “Nowhere else has you or A-Qing.”
“Are we better than a warm hearth?” Xingchen returned the question, moving the rice to the stove. “I don’t hold you to any debt. I don’t believe in such things.”
“Debt?” The voice paused, seeming to ponder the suggestion. “Can I not want to stay simply because I like you?”
Xingchen frowned slightly, finding himself at odds with the response. If the voice still belonged to Chengmei, he could accept it graciously, but knowing it belonged to Xue Yang turned silken words to acid. It was a tailored response, meant to soften Xiao Xingchen’s heart.
“Daozhang?” A hand reached out, laid across his own. “Did I do something wrong?”
Again, he was stricken by the childishness of it all. Xingchen had given up trying to guess the man’s age long ago, but moments like this made it hard to believe he was much older than fourteen.
“No. Of course not.” Xingchen replied, using his other hand to pat Xue Yang’s reassuringly.
The hand recoiled and a silence fell over the kitchen- even the cutting of vegetables had come to a stop. 
“I didn’t...” The words returned, unsure, after the long pause. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”
“Pardon?” Xingchen stopped what he was doing, surprised by the smallness of Xue Yang’s voice.
“When I said I liked you.” The sound of nervous fidgeting replaced the previous noise. “I made you uncomfortable. Sleeping next to you last night. Right?”
Despite his inability to actually see, Xingchen turned to face the other, unable to restrain his surprise. No matter what angle he looked at it, he could see no reason for Xue Yang to bring up such a topic. His tone sounded so genuine it chased out all feelings of unease that had accumulated over the night.
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” He replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “That’s not it at all.”
“Then...” He fell silent again, the nervous fidgeting the only tell that he hadn’t left the room. “Just say it directly.”
Wringing his hands together, Xingchen frowned again, casting his face downwards. If it came to it, he could beat the other man in a fight. A-Qing was still busy elsewhere, out of the line of fire, so if any time was ideal it was now.
“I asked you why you stayed...” He said carefully. “Let me ask again, why you, Xue Yang, stayed here with us...”
The fidgeting slowed and quieted, but it was still there as Xue Yang spoke.
“I have the same answer.” He replied. “I stayed because I like you.”
With an expression of irritation, Xingchen turned back to his task with breakfast. He expected the charade to be dropped with the confrontation, but Xue Yang seemed determined to keep it up.
“Xiao Xingchen.” The voice came a step closer this time. “I know you don’t believe it, but it’s the truth. I’ve met too many people to count, hundreds of different people, ranging from decent to downright villainous-”
Xingchen scoffed at the phrasing.
“-but never have I met someone so... Good.”
A hand fell atop his again, soft and hesitant.
“It was annoying at first. You show unwavering trust and kindness to people who don’t deserve it. You’d walk naked through the streets if it meant giving your robes to someone in need.” The hand curled around Xingchen’s, giving a small squeeze. “It would have been easy to take advantage of, you know... But...”
“But what?”
“But then I’d be taking the one good thing out of this world.” Xue Yang put his forehead to Xingchen’s shoulder, his voice shrinking against him. “I know it’s because you didn’t know who I was, but you’re the only person... You’re the only person...”
Flipping his hand up, Xingchen tangled their fingers together and turned to face the other man. It took most of his self control to bite back a laugh, amused to see how much Xue Yang was struggling to get through a single conversation about his feelings.
“...the only person that’s ever... done anything for me without expecting something in return...” It was obvious it wasn’t the original thought, but he managed to get it out finally.
“Is that all it takes to win your heart?” Xingchen asked, allowing himself a small, soft laugh.
“...Now that you know who I am... Do I have to leave?”
The camouflaged voice Xue Yang had used the past year to hide his identity had finally disappeared, leaving behind the youthful voice of a boy. The question sounded like that of a child, pleading in it’s search for a response. Xingchen frowned, trying to remember what Xue Yang looked like after all this time. Even though it’d been so long since he’d seen his face, he knew the man was not nearly as young as the words projected.
In the moment of silence, Xingchen recalled the first story ‘Chengmei’ had told them. The story about the child who lied to, tricked, and beaten needlessly. Taking Xue Yang’s other hand, Xingchen found the amputated joint, feeling over the odd curve of bones that hadn’t healed right and the strange formation of scarring. How old had Xue Yang been when he received this injury? At what age had he been forced to grow up?
“I won’t make you leave.” Xingchen replied finally, feeling a small twinge of guilt. “At least with you here I know you’re behaving.”
A burst of laughter filled the room, another startling reminder of who was standing in front of him. Before he had a chance to question his decision, though, the other man threw his arms around Xingchen, reeling him into a crushing embrace.
“I’ll behave!” Xue Yang laughed out. “Only for you! Anything for you!”
Even with the man’s explanation- his proclamation of the Daozhang’s goodness, Xiao Xingchen couldn’t begin to wrap his head around Xue Yang’s seemingly unconditional loyalty to him. There was a pit in his stomach telling him it was a ruse, some game to inflict the most damage possible. He could practically hear Song Lan’s voice in his head, begging him not to trust him, but the words were quickly drowned out by Xue Yang’s movements.
The tight embrace was finally released, only to be replaced by the feel of lips against his own. Xue Yang was pressing into a kiss, with one arm still wrapped around Xingchen’s shoulders, sternly anchoring them together, and the other hand cupped gently to Xingchen’s cheek. He stood, frozen, mind utterly devoid of thought, as Xue Yang pressed two, three, four, and five soft kisses to Xingchen’s lips before finally pulling back.
“Xiao Xingchen.”
His lips twitched, unsure of what shape to form with no words coming to mind.
“I lied about one thing.” Xue Yang moved his hands from Xingchen’s shoulders, taking up just one of his hands and bringing it to his lips. “When I said I liked you. I did mean it like that.”
Whenever the day does come that his path crossed again with Song Lan’s, Xiao Xingchen was going to have a hell of a time explaining this to him.
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slutsofren · 4 years
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Alphabet Prompt: with demon au Kylo since ya’ll enjoy him :3
for those who don’t know, this Kylo au is from my post here <3
* some of these are NSFW lol
Original list from here!
A- Activity (What is their favorite activity to do with you.)
Demon Kylo just REALLY enjoys vibing with you in your apothecary, he likes watching all the little humans interact with your witchy self. There’s something about you that naturally glows when you’re working. The sun sets differently when it’s touching your skin, creating a shine he wants to capture and love for eternity.
B- Beginnings (How do they act in the beginning of a relationship)
He is one confident bastard but in all reality, you are the one human who has intrigued him in his entire immortal life so he gets a wee bit insecure about how to court you properly according to modern dating standards- it just doesn’t make sense to him!
C- Communication (Are they good communicators? How do they normally talk about their problems or solve issues)
Oh, by the stars not at ALL. Kylo is awful with words, if he ever did a love language test his main would be spending time, secondly he’d much rather give gifts then talk about his feelings. If you two ever do end up arguing he would just leave- space for you as well as him to clear his thoughts. When he does come back though he never goes into a full on speech about his feelings- rather he apologizes straightforward and explains what he said/did was wrong of him and he will be more mindful going forward. Afterall, this is new to him.
D- Drunk (What are they like when they’re drunk)
So, demons don’t get drunk per say... BUT oh, boy, does he get drunk off your scent after you orgasm time and time again. He gets a little more snuggly and openly affectionate, during this time he lets his guard down a bite and sleeps. Oh, how rarely do demons sleep. When he does, you take this time to admire him.
E- Emergency (How are they in emergency situations? You get hurt, they get hurt, someone is dying etc..)
Imagine a raging storm- winds billowing, rain falling as harsh against your skin as hail, cold nipping at every inch of your body threatening to steal every degree of warmth. It’s like that but fire. He gets so enraged you think he might just kill the whole town to find out who hurt you. When you tell him it was the fridge that gave you the bruise on your hip he gets a little flushed with embarrassment but you appreciate the sentiment.
F- Free Spot (I’ll give you any headcanon I come up with)
Kylo realizes one day of how much he has missed out on since the last he visited the surface. So he tries to do one thing a day- reading a book, watching a film, or researching new things.
G- Gifts (What kind of gifts do they give? What kind of gifts do they get?)
Being a demon who has seen everything on earth, he expected you to be more of the materialistic type. It bewildered him how you refused every piece of gold, diamonds, and fine clothing. Eventually he came to discover you enjoyed useful gifts- especially ancient books of the craft you long thought were lost to the ages. Kylo is a very mindful gifter.
H- Hugs (How do they show affection/cuddle)
There is literally only one way this damned man cuddles- with his body draped over yours and his face snuggled straight into your chest and you playing with his long hair. He often says your heartbeat lulls him to sleep.
I- Irritation (What is something that irritates them? How do they show their irritation?)
This demon hates with a passion about being late to things. Admittedly he was late to your WEDDING and no, you will never let him forget that.
J- Jackpot (How would they spend their winnings if they won the lottery?)
He would be so bored at home scratching random lotto tickets and if he won he wouldn’t even claim it. He knows lotto money brings nothing but destruction in its wake which is why you never know he won in the first place- he just imagines it’s another person saved from its terrible fate.
K- Kryptonite (What is their ultimate weakness?)
Uhh,,,,,,,, you. Especially when you come around his cock, moaning his name. He could weep just from listening to the sweet symphony your moans make.
L- Laughter (What makes them laugh?)
By the stars, this man gets a hoot when you attempt to bake. You are just so bad at it but he enjoys watching you make an effort. “Just stick to cooking and I’ll do all the baking.” Although he still ends up doing the cooking too, not that you’re complaining.
M- Morning ( How do they wake up in the morning? Are they a morning person or a morning grouch?)
He is a morning person! He doesn’t sleep like humans do so he has a tendancy to leave bed before you wake to make you a warm cup of something and a small breakfast so you don’t have to worry about that. It also gives him a few quiet moments to watch the sun kiss your skin.
N- Needy (When do they feel particularly needy? How do they show it?)
Kylo Ren is one of those kinds of men demon who is touch-starved so he often finds himself seeking you out. Maybe you’re both sitting at a cafe or bookshop and he reaches for your hand just to feel you close by. He just constantly needs to be touching a part of your skin.
O- Oasis (Where is their happy place? Where would they go if they didn’t have anything holding them back?)
He’s been wandering the earth for a millenia and he will continue until the end of time. In all his years he has witnessed the destruction that colonialism leaves in its wake. He’s watched as many of his sacred places have been corrupted by man and it breaks his heart. Now one of the few places left is within a redwood forest, far away from the eyes of humans. A quiet place where he dreams to take you one day.
P- Pain (How do they handle pain? How do they handle when you are in pain?)
He has such a high tolerance for pain and often says “ow” just to feel like he’s just your normal husband- nothing demonic about him! 
Q- Quote (What’s a quote that fits them and your relationship)
“Yes, I love him. Yes, he is a jerk. Yes, I want to fuck his brains out.”
lol are we surprised
R- Reunion (How do they celebrate seeing you after a long time of being apart)
Kylo hates being apart from you so much. It tears him apart every time. When you finally see him it’s like all the air rushes out from his lungs the moment you walk into his gaze. He forgets how to breathe and just runs to you, to hold you. He soaks up your presence with his face buried into your hair and leaves chaste kisses on every inch of your face never wanting to leave you again.
S- Stress (What stresses them out? How do deal with stress and how do they relieve it?)
Simple solution is sex- both of you fuck your frustration out. Once you called it “make-up / angry sex but without the fighting” and he did not understand what you had meant but he fucked you into oblivion and immediately saw solutions to his stress. You gave him hundreds of smooches after these kinds of evenings.
T- Terror (What are they afraid of?)
Kylo is truly afraid of losing you and not being there quick enough to save you. He really cannot fathom a life without you by his side and it kills him each moment he is reminded of your mortality.
U- Unique (What is a quirk that is unique to them?)
Since Kylo is a fallen angel, they all lost their feathered wings- destroyed in the nine day fall. Oddly enough, he somehow maintained his wings. They were transformed to become black as dark as midnight with tips shimmering gold- like Icarus’ wings before he too fell to his destruction. This caused him to be hated more as many of the other fallen resented his beauty.
V- Violence (Do they fight a lot? Are they a good fighter? What is their fighting style?)
He doesn’t fight a lot- doesn’t really seek it out but when it comes to protecting you his long talons would rip through flesh and bone, rows and rows of sharp teeth tearing into his foes. A true horror and sight to behold.
W- Wow (What do you do that really surprises them? What do you do that they really like?)
Kylo loves loves loves watching you do your craft. He is so enamoured by your potential and skills that he can sit there for hours watching you work.
X- (Explicit headcanon. For all you degenerates)
Kylo’s cock. Oh, boy. There were plenty of historical texts and recordings of witch’s accounts of fornicating with demons but none could prepare you by how this man could fuck. Every time he rocked his body into yours you could swear you felt the earth shake beneath you. His cock was unworldly, a true testament to the Big Dick Energy he carried with him. His size was perfect- not too big, not too small, seemingly perfect for his body and your pleasure. What you didn’t anticipate was the head of his length- it flared and sharpened to a tip, reaching and caressing every inch inside of you. His cock really could ascend you to another plane.
Y- Yucky (Is there something that grosses them out so badly that they can’t deal with it?)
This man does not enjoy things that have contradicting properties. Like, wet and crunchy. Pickles are a perfect example- just the smell could make this immortal demon gag and run from the room. 
Z- ZZZ’s (What are their sleeping habits? Both with and without you)
When you’re apart he tends to just starfish across the bed counting down the moments until you come home. He doesn’t sleep well since the day you came into his life, he just needs you. When you’re together he has to- absolutely has to- sleep on top of you and cover your body with his while he gives you all the smooches between high heaven or lowest hell.
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axther · 4 years
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hey lover!
They walked with the Universe on their shoulders, and made it look like wings. 
tamaki amajiki x gender neutral!eldritch abomination!reader
a/n: thank you so much to the wonderful wonderful @what-the-censored-xd​ and @pixxiesdust​ for being my beta readers!! and thank you to @v0mpy​ for requesting!! finally, a story where the love interests actually get together and stay together 🥴
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Sweet was the light that beyond the window breaks.
Tamaki Amajiki knew this well. Said light was always coming from the side of his best friend’s room, illuminating the side of their face. Sometimes, it didn’t need to, their own radiance showing, or maybe the light of a dual monitor system. Their eyes would flick left and right, smiling softly at the spiralling chat on the bottom right corner, as they conquered kingdoms. Their hands were fast and sharp, tapping and flying across the keyboard with a vengeance, and when they won a battle, they would lean back with a satisfied sigh. Maybe there was a streak of paint on their arms, and in spare moments, they would try to rub it off. And in even sparser seconds, they would look at Tamaki on their bed and give a sweet smile. 
YN LN. The love of Tamaki’s life.  
YN didn’t necessarily know that, though. Tamaki made absolutely sure they had no clue, short of him blushing when they were around. But since they knew him since he was a child, they easily brushed it off as him simply being...him. 
In the late nights where the darkness was overwhelming and his thoughts were too loud, he would sneak into their dorm and watch them play in the wee hours of the morning. He would take in the scent of paint, the faceless worlds on their walls, trapped on canvas or paper. It felt almost surreal. And as he would watch them, he would wonder. Was he enough? Would he ever be enough? 
Ah, but those were the late nights. The nights would bleed into days, light breaking through other windows, and YN would move from their desk into a wide room, with brick walls on three sides and floor-to-ceiling windows on the other, like a gilded cage. And YN would paint, colours of every kind sweeping across the racks of canvases, paints sliding and paints, prying off the brushes into something unfathomable. And Tamaki would watch them until the sun was done rising and the early morning fog would clear. 
Sometimes, he wondered. YN had never shown a quirk nor spoken of one. They were enigmatic in all the best ways, ways that snared and contained Tamaki like a blanket. They never judged him, never differed. They were effortlessly elegant, accidentally regal, casually divine. They created and destroyed as they pleased, and none could stop them. Sometimes when they spoke, their eyes would seefade into worldsthoughts of a world that Tamaki couldn’t even begin to fathom. YN rarely spoke of home, but when they did, it was a dark place that they could only spit harsh, short words of. Thatere was something deep that Tamaki didn’t dare touch, lest he watch their friendship crumble before his eyes. 
Tamaki loved them. And it could destroy him at any moment, in a single, breathless second. 
He never wanted that second to come, but like most things in his life, disaster loved him. That second answered all his questions, all the wondering if he was enough. It all came to a halt as the world froze, and he knew.
He wasn’t enough.
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“It’s done!” 
YN stood in front of a massive canvas that stretched above them, resting their hands on their hips in satisfaction. Their accent rang through their pride, and paint was everywhere on them, but they had a small grin on their face. Tamaki was behind them, staring up at the work with quiet horror. 
Before him was what could only be labelled as a monstrosity. It was pure chaos, with deep blues and greens swirling across it like the sea had risen to the earth and taken a sturdy form. There were yellow and lime green fires cast across it, thick billows of smoke rising to the top of the canvas. The main centrepiece was like a horrible streak of blood: a creature in the middle, a tall, mutilated, spectral creation. It had ribs, Tamaki could tell that much, but too many, and they were hanging out and contorting it’s entire torso. It looked up into the sky of chaos, and he could almost hear the cry from it’s nonexistent mouth. 
“It’s incredible,” he whispered in awe. He took a tentative step forward and YN glanced at him. 
“You think so? I’m sure it could be better, but to be honest, I’ve been working on this for months.” They glanced up at it again before turning to Tamaki. “What do you really think?” 
“It’s so…” hHe hesitated, staring right at the creature. It wasn’t so terrifying up close, but instead seemed to be mourning. “It’s so sad.” 
It came out as little more than a reverent whisper, but YN’s raised eyebrows said enough. 
“Really?” 
“I-! I’m sorry!” Tamaki recoiled his hand, not even realising that he had been reaching forward. “If that wasn’t what you were going for, then I’m probably wrong!” 
“No, no.” YN paused, tilting their head. “That’s exactly what I was going for. I just...didn’t think you’d pick it up. Most people don’t.” 
“Huh?” Tamaki looked at them with wide eyes and a flush. “W-Well! Then it’s...it’s great!” 
“Nice.” YN nodded, though it seemed more like they were musing. “I’m glad, then.” They turned to grab a rag, wiping their hands. Tamaki’s eyes flickered across the entire canvas, trying to take in as much as he could when he noticed a figure in the bottom middle of the canvas. He tilted his head. 
“Who’s that?” 
YN turned, curious, before realising what he was eyeing. They faltered, turning back around. 
“It’s nothing. Just...just something extra.” 
“Oh.” Tamaki stepped back. “What are you going to work on next?” 
“I dunno,” YN shrugged. “I need to get more supplies, but after that, it’s kinda up in the air.” 
Tamaki nodded. “Okay.” 
He wished he could say more, but all he could think of was the small, kneeling figure before the great calamity. They looked so hopeless, so pleading.
And quite suddenly, the painting didn’t seem to be about the monster after all.
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Tamaki was walking with YN down an open mall, watching them glance at shops and talk about their latest work. There were lights strung about, and sparse boards served as a makeshift room, letting the sunlight soak through. It was neither busy nor empty, with people scattered about. YN was in step with Tamaki, sighing. 
“I, uh, wanted to encompass…” YN waved their hands about, trying to tie their words to their thoughts. They couldn’t seem to focus on one thing until Tamaki ever so gently began pulling them towards a corner store with mock paint splatter along the walls. YN didn’t resist, instead electing to still try and speak their mind. 
“It’s like, this thing. It’s really...opaque.” They paused, pursing their lips. “That doesn’t make sense.” 
“I can try...to help you get it out…” Tamaki murmured, watching a couple point at a bright blue paint through the glass of the doors. “Do you have the...the basic idea?” 
“No,” YN snorted. “I just know it’s...dark. Angry.” 
“Angry?” Tamaki glanced back at them, daring to raise a concerned eyebrow. “Why...why angry?” 
“I dunno.” YN’s eyes grew dark for a second, unfocusing like they were somewhere else, when a distant rumble echoed through the road. Both turned toward the sound alongside most of the civilians, and Tamaki grew stiff.
“What was that?” YN murmured, a casual curiosity on their face. “Thunder?” 
Tamaki stepped in front of them. “That wasn’t thunder.” 
There was a moment of pure, thick tension, a tension that was palpable and making the hairs on the back of Tamaki’s neck rise, and YN put a hand on his shoulder. They opened their mouth to say something, but Tamaki stared down the cobblestone road with an unblinking stare. There was movement, barely any, and Tamaki gave a shuddering blink. 
Then, it hit like a mule kick. 
There was a tsunami of pure air, rushing forth in an uncontrollable tide. The lights flailed in the wind and civilians were shoved back down the street. Tamaki managed to nearly throw YN into the store before getting flung into a candy shop sign, yelping when the collision made his spine pop. As he gathered his breath, he used his quirk to manifest tentacles, staring straight ahead. 
A man strutted forward, oozing confidence, purple hair pulled high in a winding ponytail. When one civilian shakily tried to dial 119, he raised his fist in a sharp motion. A square column shot from the ground and fired the poor woman into the air. It was almost comical, how she was there and then she wasn’t, but Tamaki rushed forward and caught her, placing her gently on the ground before facing the man. The man stood for a minute, letting the remaining civilians clear before focusing on Tamaki. 
“Where,” the man droned. “Are your heroes, boy?” 
Tamaki narrowed his eyes, wondering if the woman’s call went through. He looked over at her, only to see YN standing over the woman in a protective stance. YN glanced back periodically at Tamaki with worried eyes. He glanced back, only to see the man was much closer that he had anticipated, maybe only a yard away. Tamaki was tempted to leap back, but the man stood right before the glass windows of the paint shop, and Tamaki’s nerves were steeled. 
YN was there. YN was there. YN was there. 
“What is your name, boy?” The man growled. Tamaki kept his mouth sealed, keeping eye contact with the man’s blue eyes. “I am Yigrallas Initi, son of the Great Yoson. I have come to seek out revenge on my father’s killer by destroying the world they hold so dear.” 
None of it made a lick of sense to Tamaki, but he realised that Initi had an accent he could place. It was the same accent YN had, the one that no one could pin the location of. He narrowed his eyes. 
“I won’t give you the chance.” 
Tamaki began rushing Initi, just hoping to get him away from the paint shop, and Initi waved a gloved hand. The earth beneath Tamaki spun and he nearly ran across the entire street before righting himself and seeing Initi turn and face Tamaki. He realised that thank god, Initi was looking away from the paint store. YN was inside, ushering the woman, spare customers, and workers into the backroom or under the counter. They stood near the back door, narrowing their eyes at Initi. 
“Do not get distracted, boy.” Initi raised his fist again, but before Tamaki could be rocketed by the stone under his feet, he skipped to the side and narrowly missed a rock to the jaw. Initi growled. 
“You are a fleeting one.” 
It began a dance; Tamaki leapt back and forth, trying to avoid the wind and rocks that Initi tried shooting his way. It was strange how Initi seemed to only be mildly annoyed the entire time, but Tamaki didn’t think too hard on it. 
That was a lie. He thought about it-a lot. 
Was Initi planning something? Were there others? Where were the actual, licensed heroes? Were they even coming? Tamaki thought enough that he was too slow, getting smacked with a boulder the size of an outdoor table. Initi let out a laugh. 
“The little bird touches the earth,” Initi mused, watching Tamaki fall to the pavement. Tamaki’s head was spinning. The rock hit much harder than he anticipated and made him go still for a moment. Everything echoed, like Initi’s footsteps, his chuckles, the bell. 
The bell? 
Tamaki managed to open his eyes and saw YN storming out of the paint shop with a fury in their eyes. 
“Tama!” 
Initi stopped approaching Tamaki and turned. YN’s eyes met Initis’, and there was an instant look of horrified confusion. Initi’s eyes widened, impossibly so, before a ferocious glare glare overtook his face.
“Z’ythras.” He growled. 
“Yigrallas,” They hissed. 
“You killed my father,” Initi’s voice plummeted, and his hand made a choking motion towards YN. They cooly stepped to the side and avoided the plume of fire from Init’s palm. 
“He deserved it,” They reared up, putting both hands before them like they were planning to punch the villain. 
“He did nothing!” Initi howled and ran towards YN. Tamaki tried to protest, but his voice was stuck in his throat, and he smelled blood. 
“He destroyed everything I loved!” YN’s face was uncharacteristically enraged, running right into Initi and socking him in the nose. He yelped, grabbing a handful of their hair and dragging the both of them to the ground. It was straight, raw, hand-to-hand combat, and Tamaki watched in awe as YN held their own against Initi. 
“He hunted demons. Demons like you!” Initi managed to spit out, before straddling YN and placing his hands around their throat. 
“You…” YN was choking, trying to pry his hands away and kicking him in the stomach. “You have no idea...what he did…!” 
“You killed him!” Initi dug his nails into the meat of YN’s arm and used his spare hand to grip their ribs. “You murderer! My father was a good man, and he ended the plague of-of!” Initi didn’t get to finish his sentence when YN picked up a piece of rubble and smashed it into his face. There was a streak of blood and dust of Initi’s face and YN scrambled away, towards Tamaki, who was still trying to get up. Initi grabbed their foot, though, and they slammed into the cobblestones. There was a groan, and then Initi climbed back onto YN and began choking them, slamming their head with as much force as Initi could muster.  
“You served them! They did nothing but kill and destroy, and you served them willingly! You must die!” 
Then, there was silence. 
Initi stared down at YN, and Tamaki tried to yell. They were completely still, and there was something leaking from behind their head and staining the bricks. It wasn't red, but a gaudy silver that was only there for a moment before disappearing into the air. 
YN was dead. 
Tamaki wasn’t enough. 
He felt his heart stop and a white-hot rush in his blood. Tears swelled forth, and thought the blur, Initi looked at his hands with shock. The man didn’t seem to even know what he did, standing with a gasp. It was all so suffocating, seeing YN’s still corpse and knowing that he would never hear them again. It was a horrible, quiet peace that made Tamaki choke on his own sobs. 
Initi looked at Tamaki, and slowly began stumbling towards him. Tamaki felt such a deep hatred for the purple blob in his eyes, and wanted nothing more than to crush it. 
Then, there was a whisper. 
Initi stopped, and the tears fell from Tamaki’s eyes. It was enough that he could see someone writhing on the ground behind Initi. The man turned, and let out a gasp. 
There were two YNs, and one YN rose like a puppet cut from it’s strings, breathing like they were starved for air. Their head was back in a way that seemed almost painful, until it snapped forward. The other YN-the corpse-melted like red goo until the skeleton was the only thing left and it rose, standing perfectly behind YN. The ground around them began shifting, until chunks of the pavement were uprooted, and five more skeletons crawled from the dark dirt, bugs and filth clinging to the yellowed bones. There was a second, a brief, imperceptibly chaotic and still at the same time. 
The perfect eye of the storm. 
Then, YN’s voice leaked through while they still faced the pavement. It wasn’t the sweet, kind voice Tamaki knew, but a sound like a thousand angry hornets if they could speak at once. It made his entire body freeze in horror. 
“Sixty five million, three hundred and forty  thousand, and five hundred and sixty minutes.” YN paused and sighed heavily. “Five hundred and sixty-one. One hundred and twenty two years, seven months, and twenty four days.” 
YN looked up, and their eyes were a startling pitch black with bleeding red pupils. They didn’t even seem to see Tamaki, tunnel vision focused on Initi. The skeletons, which had been looking down, snapped their heads up to look at Initi. 
“I am considered young for my kin. We are ageless in infinite chaos. Possessive of everything and nothing. We are the rulers of the empty voids. Your father destroyed my home and peoples for sport and was killed by the Ancient Laws, written by Father Dragon and Mother Hydra. I killed Yoson Godslayer. I am Z’ythras, the Last Great Old One, and you have hurt my love.” 
At once, Initi let out a horrified yell as the skeletons ran at him, almost on all fours. It was frankly terrifying, a suffering, malicious vision of Initi being ripped to shreds. His screams were miserable but Tamaki could only focus on YN. They turned to Tamaki, brows furrowed, and ran to him. He tried to whimper something, anything, but YN simply cradled his head and blocked the bloodshed. 
“Sleep, my love. All will be well.” 
And all Tamaki saw was darkness. 
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When Tamaki woke up, he was screaming. 
He was in a cold sweat, gripping at blankets and anything he could see. He felt overloaded, terrified, until the door opened (there was a door?) and YN walked in. They smiled in the comforting way they always did, and Tamaki relaxed. 
“Bad dream?” They murmured, tucking some of Tamaki’s stray hair behind his ear. He panted, but the burning in his lungs was quelling. He started rambling, eyes darting across YN’s guest room. 
“Y-Yeah! You died, and there was this man, and-and he was after you, and there were skel…” 
Tamaki looked at the open door and saw not one, not two, but six skeletons, all curiously edged around the door like puppies. But if they were puppies, Tamaki would’ve been fine. Instead, he began choking on his breath again, and YN grabbed his face. 
“Tama, focus. Focus. You’re okay. They’re not going to hurt you.” YN looked both concerned and humoured, and one of the skeletons jostled the other in what seemed to be embarrassment. 
“Then-then-then you-and he-and they-and you-” 
“Just take a second, Tama.” YN soothed. “Breathe. I can explain once you’re calmed down.” 
It took Tamaki more than a second, but he was able to breathe normally, and if he kept his eyes on YN, he wouldn’t be able to see the skeletons in the corner. 
“So…” Tamaki gulped. “What…?” 
“Everything you’re going to hear is going to be…” YN hesitated. “Unbelievable. Absolutely insane.” 
They stood and turned, tugging their shirt up just the slightest. Heat flushed Tamaki’s cheeks, but he noted a sticky-looking spiderweb pentagram tattoo. It had the All Seeing Eye in the middle, and he tilted his head. YN glanced back. 
“I am not human. I might’ve been, at one point, but I can’t remember. I am part of a race of gods called the Great Old Ones.” 
“You said...that they were dead.” Tamaki winced at the words, and YN lowered their shirt. 
“Yes. I am the last one.” 
“And that the guy, his dad…” 
“Killed them. The Great Old Ones…we were powerful. Divine. Horrifyingly ethereal. We were the ultimate hunt. And Yoson was the ultimate hunter. He sought us out, and for the first time in millenia, someone managed to kill one of the Great Old Ones. But Yoson wasn’t satisfied.” YN’s eyes went dark, and Tamaki searched through them. There was nothing but ageless regret. “He went after all of them. I wasn’t there when it happened. I was on Earth actually. Here. But when I came back, it was all up in blue and yellow smoke. My father, he was the last one to be killed. And I saw him standing there, mourning for my mother.” 
“Then the painting…” Tamaki baulked. “That was your father?!” 
“Mhm.” YN hummed, sighing. “I was the only Great Old One that couldn’t be inherently killed, so Yoson went after me. And since the Ancient Laws, written by our-my forbears said that it was perfectly reasonable to fight back, I did.” 
“Did he...kill you?” 
“Oh, yes.” YN hummed again, looking both miffed and satisfied. “Four times. The fifth, I got hit by a car. The sixth, of course, was Yoson’s son. Who, naturally, is dead. Like father, like son, I suppose.” 
“And…” Tamaki glanced at the skeletons. One waved timidly, and there was some more jostling. 
“They follow me around, unless I want to be discreet. I didn’t want to scare you.” 
“You and the villain, you two had...have the same accent.” 
“He was raised on the ruins of my home, I suppose. Yoson was from there, too.” 
“And you…” Another furious flush rose on Tamaki’s cheeks, and YN tilted their head. 
“You called me your lover?” 
YN’s eyes went wide, and the skeletons froze. Four dashed away, one slunk behind the door, and the last literally collapsed into a pile of bones. YN themselves were bright red, scratching the back of their neck and looking away. 
“Aha, well, that was...I mean, if you don’t want to, then it’s okay! But I know...it’s, uh…” YN trailed off, nervous for the first time that Tamaki had seen. Someone who was an immortal god, levelled to a blushing flower. Some he loved, blushing for him. 
“Am I dreaming?” Tamaki pinched himself, and YN sat up. 
“Oy! Don’t hurt yourself more!” One of the skeletons (the one behind the door) nodded fervently with YN’s cry. 
“But you’re really...you love me?” Tamaki pointed at himself. “Well…” YN paused, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.” 
There was a moment, but unlike all the others, it was kind. It was soft and gentle, like staring at the stars on a clear summer night. Tamaki’s heart pounded through his stomach. 
“Well, I-! I like you, too!” He nearly hollered it, but YN lit up like a tree again. 
“Then do you wanna be, like...dating?” “Y-Yes! Please!” He leaned forward. “And does that mean we…! Can we!” He couldn’t finish his sentence, he was too nervous, but YN smiled. 
“You wanna kiss?” 
There was a rattle and all the skeletons were back at the door again, but Tamaki ignored it in favour of staring intently at YN’s lips. He gulped and nodded. They leaned closer, ever closer, and Tamaki’s heart raced, and it was like he was going to have a heart attack. 
Then their lips met, and it all paused, and suddenly, this one moment made up for the bad ones. 
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Note
sugawara please 🧎‍♂️
It has been a MONTH since you requested this I am sorry for being so shitty /.\ I hope you like it tho 🥺
pairings: Sugawara Koshi xF!reader
wc: 2.1k
Warnings: reader&suga are 3rd yrs (18), first kiss “practice”, friends to lovers, dry humping
“Well, what movie should we watch?” you asked your group of friends. Daichi, Asahi, Kiyoko, and your best friend Suga were sitting on the couch of your living room, debating on what to watch. Your hangouts were a monthly occurrence, closely coming to an end. Graduation was creeping up fast. Despite all this, you all still could never decide on a movie to watch.
“How about Spirited Away?” Kiyoko suggested. It was one of her favorites, everyone knew, and no one could say no to her. Everyone agreed and you put it on. You sat next to Suga, cuddling up to his side to enjoy the movie. You two shared a bowl of popcorn and m&m’s, your favorite movie snack. 
None of this was unusual, you and Suga had been best friends ever since you two sat next to each other in year one of middle school, and fate just so happened to allow that to happen every year since. Now, you were both in your third year, and attached at the hip. He had you become a volleyball manager in both middle school and high school, so there was rarely a moment you spent apart. Your close friendship with him often came with drawbacks, though. None of your romantic interests would bother with you, and just like everyone else in your class, they thought you were Suga’s girlfriend. Unfortunately, you were painfully oblivious to this. No one told you, but it was practically an unspoken rule that most of the people in your class had. You always complained to the other third years, saying you could never get anyone, and they all silently agreed on the reason, never telling you directly, but trying their best to hint at it.
“Maybe they’ll talk to you more if you ask to sit with them at lunch,” Kiyoko said.
“But I always sit with Koshi, what if I invite them to sit with us?” You asked quizzically.
It was almost comical how oblivious you were to the situation, but Suga? He knew. He was almost prideful at the fact that people wouldn’t try to get in between you two. It was wrong of him, yes, but he loved you. Ever since middle school, he knew he did. He wouldn’t try to advance these feelings, though. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable, and he couldn’t tell if the feelings were reciprocated or not, so he never went further than you ever did. 
Although, Suga would be lying if he said he didn’t think about you, especially into the wee hours of the night, cock in hand. He would be lying if he said he didn’t check you out while walking behind you, checking out the bit of thigh that puffed out of your thigh highs, up to the curve of your ass underneath your uniform skirt. He would be lying if he said he could barely control himself when you had sleepovers and you were rubbing up so nicely against him in your sleep. 
You snuggled closer to Suga, your eyes getting heavy as the film continued. You had seen it many times, so you didn’t feel too bad missing out on it as you felt yourself drift off. Suga looked down at you fully asleep at his side. He wrapped an arm around you, letting you sleep through the movie. 
Before you knew it, you were being carried off to bed by Suga. You didn’t realize you slept through the rest of the movie AND your friends leaving your house! You assumed Suga cleaned up the living room. You were now awake from your nap, eyes still groggy and squinting from your bedroom light that Suga turned on to use to change. 
You looked up at your best friend, only to be met by his half naked frame. You darted your eyes down as your cheeks heated up. Suga slipped on the sweatpants and sleep shirt he kept at your house and turned the lights off, climbing into his spot next to you on your bed. 
“Goodnight, y/n” he yawned.
“Actually, Ko, I’m not that tired.”
“Oh, alright. Wanna talk about something?” he replied as he turned to his side to face you. Your mind raced. Was there something you wanted to talk about? You didn’t know what you wanted to say. 
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” It was a stupid question to ask, but you panicked. How should he know why?
“Because I reject all the girls who confess to me,” he said coolly. 
“But why? People don’t even talk to me, I wouldn’t even know how to act if someone confessed,” you began. 
“Y/n, you know I don’t have feelings for those girls, I wouldn’t want to lead them on,” he interrupted.
“Well don’t you ever want to get some things over with?”
“What do you mean?” Suga asked you, confusion evident in his voice.
“Koshi, we’re 18 and we still haven’t had our first kisses yet. Don’t you ever want to just get something like that over with? I know I do,” you said, mumbling out the last part.
“Well yeah, but I wouldn’t do it with just anyone. I would want it to be memorable with someone who actually means something to me, not some girl from class 3 whose name I won’t remember after graduation.”
You both laid in silence for a moment, the whirring of your ceiling fan taking up the silence you two were left in. The tension in the room was thick, almost suffocating, as you thought of what to say next.
“Do you want to try?” you squeaked out, your voice higher than anticipated. Suga’s eyes widened and his breath hitched in his throat.
“What do you mean?” He asked, just to make sure he understood you right.
“Don’t I mean something to you? I mean, we don’t have to, I was just saying, it could be like… practice? For the real thing.”
Suga’s mind raced a thousand miles a minute. He obviously wanted to, but there were multiple things stopping him. Why would you ask him? Did you actually care, or did you want him to be a practice run and leave him after that? That didn’t make sense, the two of you had been best friends for so long, why would you wait that long to leave?
The longer he thought about it, the more embarrassed you became at your proposal. “We don’t have to, it was stup-”
“I want to,” Suga interrupted. “But… you aren’t going to just leave me afterwards, are you?” Suga mentally slapped himself for acting so vulnerable, but he had to know before he did this. 
“Koshi, of course not! I would never leave you!” You said, a bit too eager to start. You were seeing Suga in a different light than usual tonight. Something inside you just needed him. Maybe you were touch starved, or maybe the thought of him rejecting so many girls made you want him even more, but your feelings towards him were definitely showing tonight. You had known you had feelings for him since high school started, and now you were actively trying to get him to notice. You did small things, like wear thigh highs when you knew he would walk behind you, hitching you skirt up a little higher than usual. You never thought the feelings would be reciprocated, but the way Suga was acting with your question made you rethink your original conclusion. 
You and Suga sat up and faced each other. The glimmer from the moonlight and street lamps peeked through your blinds, illuminating his gray hair and creating a beautiful silhouette. You looked at him, your best friend of many years, unsure of what to do next. You were both inexperienced, unknowing of how to approach the situation. Before you could continue thinking how to approach the situation, you felt Suga’s hand settle itself behind your head, softly bringing your face to his. He used his other hand to rest on your cheek and guide his lips to yours. His lips finally met yours, the chaste kiss sending even more warmth throughout your body. Your lips started moving with his so naturally, as though they were built just for one another. 
You didn’t know how long the kiss lasted, but when Suga pulled away, you felt it simply wasn’t long enough. You stared at each other, lips parted with heavy breaths escaping them. You were glad the room was dim, so he wouldn’t see the red hue that inevitably flushed your face. After a couple seconds, Suga spoke up.
“Do you want to go further?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. He was afraid to ask, afraid of what you might think, but there was a larger part of him that overpowered all fears, a part that wanted you more than anything.
“Yes,” you whispered back in the same fashion. You didn’t know exactly what he meant, you didn’t know exactly how far he wanted to go, but whatever he wanted to do, you wanted it from him. You felt the bed move as Suga shifted his weight forwards, capturing you in another kiss. This one felt different, his lips had more pressure against yours, it felt confident. 
Suga knew he wasn’t experienced, but that didn’t mean he was going to act like it. His confidence grew as he kissed you harder, running his tongue across your bottom lip. You gasped, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You weren’t sure what to do, but you continued, hesitantly swirling your tongue around his cavern, exploring the depths as he did the same. You were closer to him than you ever had been, but you needed to be closer. You craved it. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him down with you as you laid down, he was now on top with your arms wrapped around his neck. Neither of you dared to pull away, the intense emotions flowing through and connecting you at the mouth were too powerful to stop. You didn’t even pull away when you felt a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. 
Suga’s cock was getting harder by the second, the feeling of you beneath him was something he wanted ingrained in his mind forever. He was propped up on his forearms, his legs tangled up in your own. His thighs encased one of your own, allowing him easy access to rut himself against you. He didn’t, though, not yet. 
Suga suddenly pulled away for a moment, just to flip you, your clothed pussy sitting right on top of his bulge. You pulled him right back to you, feeling so needy just for him. The feeling of his hardening member was sending the warmth he gave you straight to your core. Remembering how he asked if you wanted to go further, you decided to test out what he really meant by that. 
You rut your hips against his, gauging your next move based on his reaction to that. He inhaled sharply, kissing against you harder. You took that as a good sign and continued to move your hips against his, unable to even comprehend the pure pleasure the movement was shooting through your body. It wasn’t long until Suga’s hands were kneading at your ass, roughly grabbing at your plush skin. Neither of you would last long like this, ecstasy rushing through your veins as you finally lived each of your fantasies. As expected, a large, dark stain bloomed across the front of Suga’s sweatpants as he moaned into your mouth. The sound of him finishing was just what you needed to push you over the edge. Your grinding became erratic as your high overcame you, whimpers and moans filling the room. 
As you both calmed down, the room was once again quiet. Neither of you moved from the position you were in, both of you once again unsure of what to do next. You looked down to see Suga with a small smirk on his face. His smirk grew until he began to giggle, his body shaking from laughter. You began to laugh with him, realizing how this situation came to be, realizing how stupid you must have been to not see how badly he wanted you too. You collapsed into Suga’s arms, and he stroked his hands along your back, lulling you back to sleep. You could worry about all the little details tomorrow, all that mattered now was that whatever just happened was definitely not going to be practice for anyone else.
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hollandgarden · 3 years
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Gangsta? (TH and HO short)
Description: Tom has to pee and Harrison has a deal to make. What happens when the two mix? It’s a disaster waiting to happen.
Warnings: stupidity, slight violence, this is not meant to be taken seriously 
Word count: 2,400
Harrison was more cunning than Tom knew him to be. Harrison was able to afford luxuries that he shouldn’t be able to. Harrison could handle himself in a fight, even with someone double his size. Harrison was out at late hours that weren’t considered normal. There were so many signs, yet Tom never asked. 
He should have. He really should have. 
***
“Harrison, mate, you ready to go?” Tom chugged the rest of his pint and gently slammed it onto the bar countertop. He pulled out a fiver for tip and placed it beside the empty glass. 
Harrison bro nodded. “Yeah.” He pulled on his brown leather jacket as Tom pulled on his black one. They could be brothers if it weren’t for the different last names, and color of hues. 
As Harrison opened the driver side door, he remembered the small thing that he needed to do before they went home. “Aye, mate, I need to do a small errand.” 
“Ace,” Tom replied. “But I’m gonna need to take a piss soon.” 
“Ight, it’ll only be a tad of time,” Harrison chuckled. 
The drive to the warehouse was fairly short from the local bar they’d chosen to go to that night. This warehouse during the day was for a fish market and at night, well, that was only for Harrison and his group to know. Not even Tom knew of what went on behind these doors. 
Harrison pulled up into a spot a few feet away from the front and reached out to stop Tom from getting out. “Stay in the car, Thomas.” 
“What? Why? I told you I was gonna have to take a piss.” Tom furrowed his brows.  
“I’ll be out soon. You can go when we get to the house.” 
Tom eyed his best friend for a moment before sighing heavily. “Alright, mate.” Little did Harrison know, he needed to go so bad that if it was more than five minutes, he was going to pop inside to go wee. 
After Harrison slipped out and through the two deadlock doors, Tom reached out to turn up the volume. He switched the tunes to his workout playlist. Tom rested his hands on his knees and tapped his foot along to the beat. He casually observed the outside of the fish market building; the stench had already seeped into the car and it was hard not to gag. Though the pier nearby definitely didn’t help. The interior probably matched the exterior; he’d never been inside it before. 
The more he thought about it, it was probably worth the wait. But then again, his bladder wasn’t being cooperative. Tom licked his lips before made the split second decision that he couldn’t wait. It had been longer than five minutes. He turned the car off, pocketed the keys, and jogged inside. He didn’t announce himself to not be a bother. He only tried to slip through the small hallways to find the loo; it proved to be more difficult than anticipated. Finally, he was able to relieve himself. It was so satisfying; he felt like a new man. He decided to search for Harrison and came into the open part of the building and there stood a group of men with piles of cash and duffels that were full of something.
What the… bloody fuck? 
Tom’s face fell and his heart began to speed up at the unsettling atmosphere. It caused his skin to crawl. Normally this wasn’t a big deal since it was usually when they watched a scary movie, but this was real. This was a real danger. Seriously, he had no idea what the hell was going on, and he wanted to make his case. But by the look Harrison shot him from below, he kept his mouth shut.  
“I thought you said you were alone, mate?” one of the burly men questioned, taking a step toward Harrison. 
Harrison didn’t falter his stance though, and only pocketed his hands into his trousers. “He’s not a snitch. He won’t cock this up for us. I got your coke and you’ve got my pounds. We’re done and will be on our merry way.” 
He reached out to start stuffing the stacks into the duffels, but the man stopped him with a hand on his chest. “No, we ain’t. We don’t trust him.”
Tom swallowed hard, and took a step back, which then he ran into something hard. He hadn’t remembered being this close to a wall. He turned around and his eyes went wide at the man who blocked his only way out. 
“Listen, I won’t tell. I didn’t even know what’s happening,” Tom shouted. I mean, he could put two and two together, but he wasn’t going to admit that logic. It was clearly not the best time. If they survived, he was going to need a serious discussion with his so-called best friend.
The man picked him up out of his own free will and carried him down the stairs.
“Come on, man! Put me down!” Tom squirmed to get out of his grip, yet couldn’t do a single thing. He was twice his size; it wasn’t like he was the tallest guy to begin with, though he never used that as an excuse. Well, that was embarrassing. 
“Thomas, quiet,” Harrison ordered and returned to his previous act. “Really, Gerard. It’s me. I’m professional when it comes to this. We’ll get this sorted, as usual.”
Gerard crossed his arms with a cocked brow. Slowly, he shook his head. “I don’t buy it.”
Tom’s burly man smirked grimmly and reached out to rest a hand on his chin. “Think you’d get any more roles without that pretty face?” 
Tom brushed his hand away and straightened out his navy tee. “Yeah, man. But please don’t hit me.” 
Harrison huffed. “Would you stop the American accent?” 
“I’m sorry,” Tom retorted. “I slip into it when I’m nervous.” 
Gerared chuckled, it was low and definitely evil. “Take em, boys.”
It was five against the two of them; which wouldn’t normally be the worst odds in a movie setting, but this wasn’t a movie. Tom did the only thing he could think of and held his hands up in fists. He and Harrison stood back to back. 
“I told you to stay in the cab,” Harrison whispered. “You’d be safe if you did.”
Tom couldn’t stop his eye roll. “Well, I had to pee… You never mentioned you were involved in this… work.” 
Harrison actually chuckled. “You never asked, mate… Trust me, I got this.” 
The two of them prepared for the worst in a fight. Tom had to search deep down for all the training he’d done for Marvel. There was a little bit of Karate. It was mostly harnesses and cardio. This was life or death, so he’d do what he could with his adrenaline. 
The men dealt knives as they surrounded them and Gerard had seemingly disappeared with his coke and part of the cash. Well, that was fucking rude. 
“Are you losers gonna make your move or are you too scared to take old H on?” Harrison mocked. 
Tom seriously would need to have a conversation with Harrison after this. That was if they weren’t having to rush to the hospital on a bus. 
Finally, a man with a goatee made a jump at Harrison. He ducked the throw and sucker punched his kidney, then kicked out the back of his leg. He made a quick decision to grab a net nearby to choke him out. 
Tom’s eyes went wide. “You’re gonna kill him, H?” 
Harrison grimaced between clenched teeth, “It’s us or them, Thomas… There’s no inbetween play… I won’t let you die.”
The man’s face turned a deathly mixture of red and purple as he clawed at Harrison’s hands. Tom couldn’t watch the final moments of it as the guy from earlier made his move. Tom ducked the punch in half circle step, swiftly he had to add, and he dodged around to behind to jump onto his back. He tried the technique he’d seen on screen and tucked his arm under the chin and used his other hand to lock it. He used his own body momentum in an attempt to bring him backwards and off-set his balance. 
The guy who was definitely more experienced than Tom didn’t falter at all, and he reached back to grab Tom by his shoulders and threw him over the table. 
Tom coughed at the loss of air and gripped his ribs area. This was way different than being on set. He knew there was no luxury of time and rolled over to get up as fast as possible. And luckily he had as the man tried to smash his face in with a wooden board he’d grabbed. He did one of the karate kicks he remembered from training, which was a low kick aimed at the ankle and he spun around to stand up. Before he could attack again, another rammed into him. 
“For being Spider-Man, you suck at brawls.” Harrison came in to help and double-spun kick the guy in the face. “I’m not sorry, Lou.” He knuckle punched him into the throat he’d exposed by pulling his hair back. 
“I wasn’t training for real combat,” Tom scoffed. “What can I do?” 
Harrison shook his head. “Keep your distance.” 
Tom nodded shortly and hurried to the side. Then after a few seconds, he found a metal bar to use as a weapon. He didn’t want Harrison to take all the heat for the situation he created. If he would’ve just fucking held his bladder, they wouldn’t be in this mess. Granted, if Harrison wasn’t involved in whatever this was, they wouldn’t be here in the first place. There was no reason to get angry, it wouldn’t fix anything. 
When he was able to gather his bearings and register the surroundings, he realized Harrison had taken out two already and was battling the last three on his own. The other two hadn’t waited until he finished with Tom’s man. Harrison was able to so meticulously counter their attacks with blocks, kicks, and punches. The muscles were not for show; most of the time anyway. He seemed to be taking care of himself pretty well, yet Tom couldn’t stand by. That was who he was as a person. 
Tom battle cried and sprinted at one of the open men. He swung the cool pole straight into his face; the remorse that pooled a weight into his chest wasn’t missable. These men were humans, mixed up in the wrong work. That was the same case for Harrison. Yet, Harrison’s words wrang in his head and he knew that this was a special case scenario. He’d let the guilt eat at him later. 
Harrison and Tom found their sync to battle the final three, which quickly became one who held his hands up in the air. 
“You know what? I don’t like Gerard. He’s a bit wonky.” 
Harrison smirked. “He is a plonker, but so are you.” He ripped the bar out of Tom’s hands, leaving a weird sensation on his hands, and it only took two swift blows for the man to be knocked out on the ground. 
Harrison dropped the metal before he straightened out his shirt and grabbed his gold Rolex from the ground, which must’ve fallen off in the midst of the violence, and clicked it back on. 
“Are we going to talk about this?” Tom questioned as he stayed a foot away from Harrison who took what money was left. 
He thought about it, cocking his head slightly to the side, then shook it. “Nope. You’ve got your work, which has its secrets, and I’ve got mine, which is all secret.”
Harrison knew he’d have track Gerard down for the rest of his payment, which would involve more bodies he’d need to kill. Gerard was known to be melodramatic about all of this; it wasn’t that serious. 
“Come on, let’s go.” 
Tom sputtered out a couple laughs, turning hysterical. “You’re fucking joking? I’m not going anywhere until you tell me all about this work! Tell me everything, H!”
Harrison looked his best friend in the eyes; one of them practically swollen shut. Tom had taken quite the beating, yet stayed in it. He was practically pleading. “I… can’t. Just know I’m okay, yeah?” 
“I want to say no…” Tom observed all the unconscious, bloody men and laughed his breath. “But clearly you do. I’ll leave it alone for now, gangsta Harrison.” 
Normally, it was mobster Harrison and the gang leader of a high drug dealership. Of course, it was all underwraps. He’d take this new one as a complement. 
Harrison smiled cheekily, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Gangsta Harrison, I like the sound of it. Never considered myself one before.” 
Tom shook his head. “I can’t believe you do this on the side.”
The two of them each carried a duffel and headed out of the warehouse. 
“Where did you think I went at the odd hours of the nights and mornings?” 
“I don’t know. To go to the clubs… to workout...” 
Harrison snickered. “Sometimes I was.” 
Suddenly, a dread hit Tom. “They’re not gonna find and torture me for payback, are they?” 
His friend thought for a second, then let out a puff of air. “Maybe, but I’ve got you, mate. They won’t if they know what’s good for them.” 
What was good for them. This wasn’t good for H. Tom was worried, yet they were both alike when it came to being stubborn. They didn’t back down from a daring role. 
“I’m glad I’m on your side,” Tom remarked, giving Harrison one last squeeze before he got into the car. 
“I am the good guy in this case.” Harrison cheesed. It was so handsome, Tom couldn’t stay mad. 
He shook his head. “That you are.” Then he opened the passenger side door to get in. After Harrison had got in, he couldn��t resist saying, “The wee was a good one I have to admit.” 
“Thomas, never go wee in this building again.” Harrison started the car. 
“Yes, darling H,” Tom retorted with a laugh. 
 Harrison reached over to whack the back of his head. “Don’t call me that. It’s Gangsta H from now on.”
Tom held back a laugh. “Okay, darling Gangsta H.” 
“Thomas!”
[Masterlist]
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angelruel · 4 years
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free time
a ruel fic that was never meant to be taken seriously
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summary: in which the girl that Ruel leaves a voicemail for in “Free Time” calls him back which ultimately ends in them agreeing to meet up for closure. this is trash I wrote it so long ago lmao sorry. quality work coming soon.
masterlist
Word Count: 3.8k (too long)
      There is nothing Y/N wants more than to see Ruel right now. She’s sure that he’s going to hug her when he sees her, even if it’s just a pity hug. And she can’t wait for it. Of course, she’s going. The problem isn’t the fact that they’re about to see each other for the first time in two months. The problem is what he told her last night. And what she told him when she called back.
      Y/N can’t even explain how this all happened. The pitiful voicemail from him and the lengthy phone call they had afterwards all seemed years away now. The mental assurance she had with herself that she refused to be hurt again all somehow seemed to be irrelevant. How could she be so foolish to admit that she missed him? He clearly did not care about her after what he did. Even though her stubborn persona can be an impenetrable force to almost everyone who encounters it, Ruel has been granted full access. And he knows it, too. That’s why she’s in the process of getting ready to see him for dinner despite having promised herself that she’d never see him again only two months prior. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, she’s pretty sure that the only reason Ruel reached out was because he was bored and needed something to give inspiration while writing the new album. Or maybe he was just drunk.
       Y/N is the queen of communicating without saying actual words, and that’s just what she plans on doing tonight. He already knows that she’s broken from this split due to her big mouth and slipping fingers. She refuses to let anything else get out tonight. For example, she’s not going to tell Ruel that ever since he left the apartment to her, she hasn’t been able to sleep without a constant noise being played in the background to make her feel safe. Or how she cuddles his pillow to actually close her eyes. And she definitely won’t be mentioning her constant phone calls to her best friends in the wee hours of the night sobbing about how she’s ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to her. Or the fact that it is quite impossible to miss Ruel because she sees him every night in her dreams. None of that will be discussed tonight. He’s going to be the one doing all of the talking. Hell, he’s the one who begged her to meet him in the first place.
       Even though she was never going to say no.
       The two outfit options say all that Y/N can’t manage to put into words. On the right side of her bed, she laid down some very soft light wash jeans along with her favorite maroon sweater—the same sweater that Ruel used to throw in the dryer to heat up for her on the nights she was especially needy. It’s also what she had on the day he left, and what she wore for the three days after. Yeah, she probably shouldn’t do that to either of them. But the sweater will let him know the truth. As soon as Ruel sees the signature color, he’ll know that she hasn’t been fine. He will automatically be able to picture her pressing a hand to her chest and sobbing only moments after he left the apartment, something that didn’t even occur to him when it originally happened. And the pity hug that Y/N is anticipating will turn into a genuine, “I’m sorry that I hurt you, but I’m here now” hug. And a very big part of her wants that to happen. She wants nothing more than to feel Ruel’s embrace once again. Just to place her head on his broad chest and feel his hands rub her back softly, a motion that was not only loving but the most comforting thing he could do for her. Maybe she should wear it. Ruel has always been a sucker for Y/N in her most vulnerable state. The slightest quiver of her lip or the formation of a tear in her eye has always set him off, immediately sending him into a nurturing state, ready to hold her and do or buy whatever to make her feel better. However, there is a small part of her that refuses to be vulnerable. This is the side of her that laid across some shorts and a tank top that she’d only worn but once on the left of her bed. Part of Y/N doesn’t want to show her true colors to Ruel even though he’ll probably see them anyway. She wants to show up in this outfit and barely make eye contact with Ruel, returning the pity hug with an embrace of sympathy for him as well. As if he hasn’t taken this well.
       Y/N puts in a request for an uber before ignoring the two outfits all together and just throwing on a simple t-shirt and jeans combo. There’s no way that clothes can say that much. And even if they did, Y/N has plenty to say on her own already.
       He’s already waiting for her at the table.
       She’s not late, but Ruel is definitely early. He wants to see her walk in. No, he doesn’t. He wants to make sure that she knows where to go. And he also wants to see the look on her face when she walks in. There are so many thoughts going through Ruel’s mind now, which are often interrupted by the waiter stopping by every few minutes to ask if he’s ready. After he replies with a, “Not yet, thanks. She’s on her way,” he continues to think about her. He remembers the look she had on her face when he gave his house key to her and he remembers how he ignored it. He remembers so many details of the breakup but for some reason he can’t remember why the hell he did it in the first place.
       All he knows is that it was for the best. And that he has been lost without her for the past two months. He’s not even going to question it, because if they were to get back together then he’s sure that he’d remember why they broke up in the first place. And he can’t break her heart again. He loves Y/N too much to even chance putting her through another heart break again.
       But isn’t that what this whole meeting intended to do? None of that matters as soon as Y/N walks in. Ruel immediately stands, unsure if she can see him or if he should walk towards her.
       She knows exactly where he is. It is pathetic to think that she suggested they meet at the Italian spot where they had their first date. Y/N almost laughs at Ruel’s predictability of what table he’s at. She sees the hopeful look in his eyes. Is it crazy to think that he might want to try again? He is the one who ended this, after all.
       Ruel sits down to wait for what seems to be forever as Y/N walks across the place to meet him. There has to be a reason why he can’t remember what prompted him to leave her in the first place. It definitely did not have anything to do with her looks. God, she looks amazing. He can tell that she spent a while contemplating her appearance for this evening because of the one piece of her hair that pokes out of the headwrap she wears seems to be burned due to her over curling it with her wand. Why is he thinking about this? He’s here to check on her since she avoided him ever since they broke up. Like his voicemail said, he just wants to “catch up.” Ruel didn’t try to force it because he wanted to give her time. But in reality? He missed her so much more than she missed him. Although he can’t remember the important details about the split, he does recall how hard it was to go through with. When he went to hand Y/N his key back, he saw the look on her face. With that alone, he was ready to scoop her up in his arms and ask her to forgive him for what he had just suggested. He knows that it was a hard decision. He knows that it was for the best.
       It’s crazy to think that this was happening to the person he thought he was going to marry. When they first started their relationship, it was one thing after another. They were only enjoying each other, each moment better than the last. He never thought that it would come to an end. Furthermore, Ruel didn’t think that it would be his idea. To think that he put a stop to the very thing that was keeping him going at one point is heartbreaking. Not only to her, but to him as well.
       Maybe they just needed time? Because looking at Y/N right here right now, Ruel is ready to pick up right where they left off. He can’t deny how much he misses her. Is two months even enough to change a person? He thought that all he needed was time away from her but after about a week he knew he’d made a mistake.
       As she gets closer, Ruel immediately remembers how he felt last night when he swallowed his pride and called her out of the blue. He felt way more vulnerable than he would ever like to admit. There is no possible way that he could ever fix what he set out and broke two months ago. In the moment, it seemed so right. Like there was nothing else to do but walk away. Is it crazy to think that she might actually take him back? He is the one who ended this, after all. But isn’t that what a relationship is, though: two people who make mistakes, love each other, and work through their problems? He can fix this. In this moment, he knows he can.
       And just like that, the meeting goes from a sincere arrangement to check on the woman that he broke to a mission of redemption.
       She reaches Ruel’s table and automatically looks down, pretending to see something on her shoe. There is plenty to be said but still a sense of mystery lingers between them, considering their last time seeing each other ended poorly. He places his hand on her shoulder. This makes her look up.
       Oh no, here it goes. The pity hug.
       As much as Y/N dreads being pitied by Ruel, if it means getting a hug from him then she doesn’t mind. She’s not sure what kind of look to give him to indicate that she’s okay with the hug, because she knows that he won’t do it if she’s not okay with it. She looks up at him. Why does he look significantly taller now? She indicates in her brain to give off friendly eye contact, unsure what she actually looks like in person.
       She looks at him like she’s over him. The kind smile he sees on her face screams, “I’m okay. Yes, you did hurt me, but I’m good now. In fact, I’m actually better for it.” Wow, maybe he can’t redeem himself. Although she seemed distraught over the phone, she seems to be doing pretty good for herself now. Nevertheless, he reaches to wrap his arms around her figure, and she leans into it. They both take in the embrace of each other for what seems to be an eternity.
       Why did they break up in the first place? Ruel has to fix this.
       When she lets go first, he looks down at her to see if the expression has changed. It has, she looks sad. She raises her hands to adjust the scarf on her head just in case the hug had damaged it in any way. Ruel tugs his hands into his pockets.
       “Hey,” he finally breathes out.
       “Hey, Ruel.” They both go to sit down, and he fights the urge to push in her seat for her when he sees her struggle to scoot in. The condensation that had pooled up around what used to be her ice water left a small stain on the tablecloth. The ice had melted, and she wonders how long she actually took to get ready.
       “How long have you been here? I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” She really didn’t. And now she wonders how much extra time she could’ve had with Ruel tonight if she hadn’t contemplated her damn outfit for so long. Who knows the next time she’ll see him? If ever again.
       “Oh, don’t worry about it. I came a little early just because. Wanted to make sure I got here first in case you were lost.”
       The silence between them returns and seems to take every ounce of Y/N’s hope with it.
       Ruel really does want to know how she is, but he doesn’t want to make any wrong moves. If he’s going to get this relationship back then he can’t make it seem like he’s okay with being without her. His heart signals him to ask her if she forgives him. If there’s any way that they could not even start over but try to make amends and continue to build what he tried to destroy. Somehow, what comes out of his mouth is “How are you?”
       She hesitantly replies, “I’m okay, how’ve you been?”
       “It’s been alright. The sessions have been great.” She looks at him to tell her more because she’s genuinely interested. And the longer that they talk off topic, the longer it’ll take before they have to discuss what actually brought them both here.
       He doesn’t really want to talk too much. After all, this is about her. To see how she’s been. Well, to get her back actually. But he continues anyways. Because he does not want the night to end.
       “I feel like there’s a difference in what I’m doing now from the way I used to record. It all feels very different. In a really good way, though.” A look of realization flashes over Y/N’s face, and he gives her a confused one right back.
       “Happy belated Birthday. I’m sorry. It crossed my mind.”
       He smiles. “Thank you. And you don’t have to be sorry.”
       The silence is back. There’s no more hope left for it to take from Y/N. So instead, a little bit of Ruel’s confidence is stripped away.
       He was just about to say it, but now he’s not so sure. And Y/N seems to have gotten quite comfortable with the awkwardness as he watches her pick through her salad. If he doesn’t say it, what’s gonna happen? There’s no way that she’ll be able to go back home and feel relieved if she’s still in love with him. He shouldn’t put her through any more pain though. If she’s truly healed and grown from the break up, he should leave her be. Let her stay on the shelf where he left her before continuing to live his own life. She seems to be put back together now, and if he really loves her then he’ll give her a chance at real happiness without him.
       Fuck that.
       “Do you think there’s any way that we could ever,” he struggles to finish his sentence. Partially because he doesn’t know what the hell he’s trying to say. But he knows what he wants, and he knows that there’s no way he’ll be able to get that by keeping his mouth closed.
       Her heart thumps. What exactly is happening right now? Is he about to ask for a friendship? Because even though it’s going to truly hurt her, she’ll do it for him. She’ll do anything. When he looks up, she can see that he’s cursed away whatever it is that was holding him back the first time.
       “I’m trying to see where you are with this. I know, I know you said that you missed me and that you didn’t want this in the first place.”
       She cuts him off. “Okay, you do understand that this wasn’t a mutual thing for me, right? I didn’t want any of this. I just wanted whatever you wanted.” She looks down.
       Y/N refuses to cry in front of Ruel. Even though it wouldn’t be the first time and he’ll know exactly what to do, she can’t bring herself to that state of vulnerability ever again. Not after confessing that she still loved him over texts. It’s over, and she refuses to let that take her back into a depressed state. It’s no one’s job to take care of her except for herself now.
       What was he to do? He just nods, puts his head down and takes in a deep breath before deciding that enough is enough. Ruel thought that “making things right” meant checking on Y/N and being supportive during the entire closure situation. But as long as they’re not together, Ruel’s not sure it will ever be enough to make either of them happy again. It seems as if breaking up didn’t fix any problems but rather put them all on hold until they saw each other again. Nothing was actually wrong with them.  He still loved her. He was still very attracted to her. And he still feared that his distant lifestyle was ultimately hurting her. At some point, his concern for them to have a stable relationship outweighed his desire to be with her. It just wasn’t possible. Was it? Is it now?
       It really doesn’t make any sense to put Y/N through any more pain, but he’s not sure what will hurt her more: leaving the situation alone or trying to repair the damage.
       “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he continues, “..by leaving you.” A look of disgust takes over her face and she just shakes her head. Tears cloud her vision and it burns, but Y/N refuses to let a single drop fall.
       Doubt and anger with himself begin to block Ruel’s focus. However, change can be painful. If both were in pain, then maybe they did have a chance.
       “Wait-stop,” she begins. Confusion floods her gaze and she continues to shake her head. “Why am I here? Why are we here, Ruel?” She looks pissed.
       Maybe they don’t actually have a chance. She seems upset. One of Y/N’s least favorite things about Ruel was his ability to hide what he was really feeling in stressful situations. This made arguing with him extremely difficult. Although she had a hard time reading him, she always had a couple of certainties in the back of her mind: She was sure that he loved her, and she was always sure that he wanted to work things out no matter how difficult they seemed. But now, she had no idea what he was feeling or if he even wanted to work this out. Despite whatever dark exterior he tried to mask his emotions with, Ruel was a sweetheart when it came to her and always tried to keep her from any emotional damage.
       Ruel sighs. “Look, this has all been so hard for me. Juggling my career with our relationship. There was always hardships and I felt like I was hurting you. I just couldn’t do that to you anymore.”
       He can feel his heart break into pieces as streams of tears stain both sides of her face. She can’t keep a strong front anymore.
       “Nothing-“ she stops for a second to sniffle and grab the napkin on her side to wipe her face.
       “Nothing ever hurt more than when you left me.”
       Ruel feels shame and regret. Knowing that he was the sole person who caused her this pain yielded a weight on his shoulders like no other.
       “I know, and I am so sorry for that. It all just happened so fast-“
       “What, your career or our relationship?” She is definitely pissed off now.
        “Both, I guess,” he lets out in a light chuckle. His attempts at lightening the mood were all but successful and Ruel couldn’t tell if he had just made things worst by telling the truth.
       “I didn’t realize that being with me caused you so much hardship, Ruel”
       “No, no, it didn’t. There was just so much I wanted to do. So much I wanted to give you. And the realities of my job took away from all of that. I just didn’t want to deprive you of a normal, stable relationship. So I pulled away.” The looks Y/N gave him as he delivered his half-assed excuses ran chills down his spine. She looks up at him like he is the only person on Earth who has ever caused any kind of pain to her. And that could very well be true.
       At least they were getting somewhere now. Even though it might not be where Ruel wanted to go.
       “That’s the thing, though. I was fine with it, I was fine with it all. As long as I was with you, I was happy. I didn’t care about the late nights or the sneaking around. I didn’t care about the invasion of privacy or the constant criticism from fans. I was perfectly happy because I had you, so none of that extra stuff even mattered.”
       “You deserve better than that, Y/N. You deserve mor-“ She cut him off again.
       “You don’t get to determine what I deserve. Only I do. And I thought I deserved to be happy with you. Or to be treated as an equal in this relationship.” Her voice chokes up at the end of her statement. It sounded like it took all but the last once of her energy to say all of that to him without crying in hysterics.
       Her right hand was resting on top of the white tablecloth next to her glass. Ruel reached his own hand over and placed it on top of hers. She didn’t pull away. He takes this opportunity to make full eye contact and give another try at reversing the damage that seems to be irreversible. His hazel orbs meet hers and they have a tender moment for the first time tonight. Ruel lightly runs his fingers on top of her hand in the same circular motion he used to rub her back.
       He takes this time to attempt to tell her what he needs to tell her without saying any words because the first few approaches didn’t go so well. The light chatter of others eating and conversating in the restaurant serves as a soothing soundtrack playing in the background of their exchange of looks. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment but he also wants to savor it. Ruel wants to make sure that he can share moments like this with her over and over again. So he takes a leap of faith. He closes his eyes to brace himself for the possible rejection and goes for it.
       “I still love you.”
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