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stardancerluv · 3 years

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Punishments

Part One

Summary: Some agnst as been building in Reader. Tonight it explodes.

Note: The last bit I posted with Punishments was the inspiration for this. It turned into something different. In this I want to show how reader can be strong and still in touch with her emotions while being with Roman! Very angsty at parts.

Eyeing your reflection, turning you let your dress twirl. It made you smile. You wanted to look good. Tonight, you were not going to just be his good girl. You were so tired of just sitting there waiting and hoping Roman would come over. Lately, you had jot even been able to sit with him when he had a meeting. They were scattered around the club.

He had barely sat with you this week and even less last week. You had grown tired of this new wave of negotiations and deals he was making. You understood why he needed them. You also knew how great they were for his slice of Gotham.

Sitting alone at his table made you just feel like an accessory. You’d sit there and grow tired hoping, he’d come over for a brief word or look. Otherwise, no one ever approached you except the waiters to take the occasional order. You had not agreed to be his girl to be just bought off with presents and rolling around in bed.

When the two you were alone, sure he would share his victories. You were very proud of him. You knew, he was of your victories too.

So tonight, you had decided to make plans tonight with your friends. A few brought their boyfriends. You could only hope, Roman would come over and join you all. That you knew was hoping for too much.

You smoothed your stockings a final time before slipped into your heels. As a final touch, you spritzed on some perfume got you when he went to Europe to seal some overseas deals.

Once in the club for a moment, you faltered. Your friends had literally sat at the table next to his usual one, thankfully he wasn’t at it. After some hugs and squeals of delight you sat down with them.

You kept an eye out for Roman and Zsasz but didn’t spot either of them. Soon, the waitress came taking everyone’s orders. She also slipped you a note. Smiling you took it.

You opened it and some of your friends giggled.

Am I not having my lovely girl at my side tonight? Was all it said in Roman’s usual script. Looking around you didn’t spot him anywhere.

“Uh oh, someone got a love-note from Mr. Crime Lord.” You shot that one friend a look but everyone, lost themselves in giggles. You could only sigh.

“He was just wishing us a good night.” Folding, the note tucked it away in your purse.

“Will the famous Sionis, be joining us tonight?”

You shrugged and smiled. “Maybe?” You were relieved your words didn’t come out as a squeak. “He’s been very busy.”

“Right. Says the next star on the Rogue Wives of Gotham.” More giggles bubbled around you.

“Look, guys if I wanted to be the butt of jokes I would have hung out with the staff.” You sighed.

One spoke up. “The staff? You have staff now.”

More laughter, came from a few of them.

“Hey guys, come on. Let’s cut her some slack.” Your friend wrapped James wrapped an arm around you and gave you a squeeze. “They’re only jealous.” He whispered in your ear.

You nodded and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t we come here to have fun. Like dancing and drinking? I only see bad, corny jokes that could have come from a high schooler. So who’s dancing?” He suggested.

When they were distracted them, you snuck away. This was going to be tougher then you thought.

Honestly, at this point you barely into what was supposed to be your night and you couldn’t decide if this night out was worth it. You should have just faked a headache or something. But looking around, you couldn’t spot Roman anywhere.

Searching out the private ladies-room with a sigh, you went to freshen up. You were relieved no one was there. Only a few female guests that came to the club knew of this exclusive bathroom. With a fluff of your hair after a few moments, you walked out.

Moments later, you found yourself being snatched away. They were so fast, you couldn’t scream. But you felt the familiar feel of a gloved hand sliding over your mouth.

A dark snicker, filled your ear as he carried you to a shadowy hallway. Stopped when he reached the large mirror at the end of it. Despite the annoyance that prickled at you, seeing how the two of you looked, was incredibly erotic.

“Look at us baby.” His breath was warm on your throat.

He had managed to envelop you with himself; from the feel of his solid warmth and the scent of his aftershave caused a knot of desire grow in the pit of your stomach.

You watched in the mirror as his lips curling into a smirk, his eyes glinting behind you. It was almost too much. The longer he held you, the harder your heart began to beat and the more you wanted him. “My pretty girl.” He added close to our ear, then pressed a kiss on your jaw. You shivered in delight but then you were reminded of how upset you were and you managed to wiggle free.

You turned to face him. “What the hell was that all about?”

He threw his head back and laughed.

“Roman.” You tapped your foot.

As he tilted his head back the mirth dimmed till it disappeared from his eyes. “I could say the same thing about you.”

“What do you mean?” You crossed your arms in front of you.

“I wanted my girl would be at my side but she isn’t.”

“You have barely sat with me all week. I decided to have a night with my friends.”

“That’s great, I’m happy you have but you should have told me.” He pressed his lips together. “I would have canceled my meetings and perhaps let them see how charming,” He shrugged, continuing. “of a boyfriend I can be.”

“Make it happen.” You challenged, you ran your hands up his soft suit-jacket. You saw him waver where he stood. The longer it took him to answer you, the longer it hurt. “Don’t you want to make your baby happy?” You lightly pouted.

“I can’t just drop things. You know damn well, I have been meeting with some very bigger players this week. And I am tonight.”

“Great! Expand your territory or go meet them at the docks. See if I care.” Shit you almost immediately thought, you had not meant that, you immediately stepped back and looked down. “I I...I...” You tried to find the right words, you really did care. But you were very hurt and angry. You didn’t know how to tell him.

He slammed a hand on the mirror beside you, making you jump. “What did you fucking just say to me?”

“Roman, do you know how many times I felt like you could care less about me? Tonight, I wanted to feel needed, I wanted to be with some friends and be silly.” You pleaded, your emotions speaking. Your eyes met his, you shrank against the cool of the mirror as you saw blue flames.

“Fine go to those fucking friends who enjoy the perks of being with you or the ones I allow them to have.” He growled, leaning in you could feel his breath once again. His anger came off him in waves.

You had never been this mouthy. You felt sick with worry. “Romy,” You tried to soften things. Had you finally pushed Roman too far, you almost began to cry right there.

“Maybe you should take those ungrateful jerks to another club. I don’t know if I want them taking a table up in my establishment.”

You looked away, then pleading with your eyes, you met his fiery ones. Did he want you to leave too, you wondered. Your stomach was churning and before you knew what you were saying, everything you had been bottling up just came out. “I’ve grown tired of all the kisses on the cheek or the hand shakes while I sit there and you ignore me.” You cried.

“I am not ignoring you. It takes everything in me to not focus on you.” He rasped. “I only want my lips on you, damn it.”

“Certainly doesn’t feel like that to me.” Taking a breath, not sure if it would make you sick, but you spat the rest out. “Learn to not have me there tonight.” You finally said it so he wouldn’t have to. And you walked away.

“I will.” He barked. “Get out of my sight.”

You walked away but blinking you looked back, had he really just said that. Tears filled your eyes. You hurt so bad, you wanted to run to him, tell him how hurt you were; to say you were sorry. How you desperately wanted him to wrap you in his arms but he was gone.

You went up to the bar, you held up two fingers. “Two shots, Charlie. Please.” You ordered.

“Of what?”

“Roman’s favorite.” You desperately wanted to feel close to him.

He smiled. “Coming up.” Soon, he slid them in front of you.

You almost coughed up the first shot but you swallowed it down. You would never understand how he drank it. The second shot, was smoother and cut some of the ill feelings that churned in your stomach.

After, some looks from your friends which you ignored; you sat with them. Sipping at your drink that had been waiting for you, you tried to loose yourself into the conversations. You wrung your hands under the table. You debated, whether you should suggest leaving. But how could you do that.

“Is there any room for this club owner?” He chuckled. “Or should we grab a table in the VIP lounge?”

You looked up startled, there was Roman smiling that easy smile that always made you melt. At that moment, you felt like you could crumble right there. Some of your friends chuckled.

“Of course there’s room. Let, Y/N sit next to her man.” One said, you slid in so he could come to sit beside you.

A hush, came over the table as he sat down beside you, he placed his martini close to your empty glass. He gestured to the air and a waitress appeared.

His fingers, gently grazed your glass. He rose his eyebrows as he looked at you. “Want another?”

You nodded. “Yes, please.”

He smiled broadly as he looked at your friends. “You heard her. And bring us a bottle of champagne along with some glasses.”

Some of your friends tried to politely discourage him but you already knew that it would be at the table shortly.

“Don’t be silly. We all deserve something special.” He smiled broadly.

Conversations picked up once, it even flowed. You rested your hand on your thigh, so it would not shake. You kept on trying to catch Roman’s eye yet you noticed that he avoided it. Right as you thought, you could cry all over again you felt as Roman’s gloved hand slide over yours. He squeezed your hand, it made you relax.

******

The rest of the night had gone well. Everyone seemed happy. As you all soon stood and chatted before saying night, Roman had wrapped an arm around your middle. He held up his martini glass. “It has been great spending tonight with all of you.” He smiled broadly at your friends and finished his good bye to your friends before he nuzzled you.

“Meet me at the elevator.” Roman hissed in your ear, before pressing a kiss on your cheek. You shivered but nodded.

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suckerforsmylex · 3 years

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Little Red Riding Hood - Pt. 1

For my O.G. nonny who requested Lil’ Red, I’ve revamped it slightly and if you guys like this, I’ll bring back the remaining chapters and finish this one out. Enjoy and watch out for a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 🐺💋

“Jackie, get the fuck in here!”

Nikolai was always an asshole, but he was in an especially shitty mood. He didn’t like waiting and I had made him wait with Jackie at the trap house for over an hour. I misplaced my car keys and had to toss my whole apartment for them before I left. I was stuck in bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic before I finally got there.

They thought I was backing out and were arguing loudly when I knocked on the door. First, there was silence as Nikolai checked me out through the peephole. Then, the sound of the deadbolts unlocking and the chain coming off the door. The door opened abruptly and I was greeted with a shiny, special edition glock to the temple and forced into the kitchen.

Nikolai yanked Jackie by her skinny ass arm and pushed her down into the chair next to me. “You have thirty minutes to learn how to swallow this shit and then get it all down, Red. I’m not fucking around. You don’t want to fuck this up.” He slammed down a bottle of vegetable oil, an industrial size box of condoms and about 100 packets of heroin stacked high on a plate.

“Nik, what the fuck! That wasn’t the agreement. I’m not swallowing that shit,” I yelled out and backed away from the table. “What the fuck do you mean that wasn’t part of the agreement?!” Nikolai was waving the glock around and sweating profusely. “She’s taking the shoes, babe. I toooold you Lana’s doing the balloons! You’re such a fucking tool.”

Jackie was in the middle of laughing when Nikolai backhanded her across the face. Her lip was bleeding, but she just sniffled and wiped at the blood with her sleeve. She was still laughing a little. I couldn’t stop looking at her track marks.

“Fuck…right…um…come here, Red I don’t have all day here,” Nikolai said impatiently as he walked over to the closet. He pulled out a pair of black, Gucci wedges. “There’s 50 packets worth of H inside of each shoe. Well, not so much inside as they’re part of the fuckin’ fabric. My guys liquefy it and shit.” Nikolai stepped back smiling. He was proud of himself. The shoe method of drug running had worked everytime.

“So don’t be fucking around with these shoes on, they’re delicate. Take the plane into Gotham International then go to down to the East River Pier. Falcone will send a guy to come and pick you up at the airport and take you to the yacht and that’s where you make the drop. I’m giving you $2K up front and you get the other $7K when you finish the deal.”

I pulled off my Prada flats, put on the wedges and shoved the money Nikolai gave me into my tote. “$10K, Nikolai. They’re supposed to give me $10K altogether. So maybe you’re supposed to give me $3K?” I stood there with my hand out. Nik rolled his eyes and peeled off another $500 and shoved it into my hand. “Tough shit. That hour you made me wait cost $500, bitch.”

“Fuck Nik, I need that money!” I screamed out. I needed that money badly. I was a high-end shopping addict with a penchant for prescription pills and liquor. I owed money to a grimy loan shark and was late by three weeks on the vig. I was holding him off with heady flirtatiousness but he was becoming increasingly inpatient. He threatened to slice my face with a razor the last time I walked out of my apartment.

“Take the shoes and get to the fucking airport Red.”

——-

I waited on the packed TSA line behind a mom and her two kids and prayed for no drug sniffing dogs. I had my docs ready and handed them over to the TSA officer. “Scarlett Agnelli.” He said my name like he was reading a weird recipe he googled on the internet. It was strange hearing my government name. Everyone I knew called me Red. He looked me up and down. I smiled a toothy grin and he gave me a wink. “Have a nice flight, beautiful. Take care of yourself.” I never have any trouble with men. At least at first. They all pretty much high tail it when they discover I’m a lunatic.

I waltzed my way through TSA without ringing any alarm bells and even had time to visit the M.A.C. store before boarding the plane. At least Nikolai sprung for first class this time. I ordered a glass of white wine, swiped on a bit of red lipstick, spritzed myself with perfume and threw on my red cape. It always got cold on the plane and I wanted to snuggle up for a nap.

I woke up and we were throttling into Gotham International. The snow was starting to fall over Gotham making it look like the inside of a snow globe. I turned on my phone and sent out a text to Nikolai to let him know I landed. I freshened up with a little Evian spray and combed out my long brown locks. I grabbed my carry-on and set out to meet whatever goon was sent to get me.

I stood outside on the arrivals platform looking around. Gotham was beautiful at night and even though it was cold, I didn’t mind waiting. I pulled the hood of the cape over my head so my hair wouldn’t get damp with snow. Pretty soon I’d be collecting my money and be snuggled up at whatever boutique hotel they put me up at. I was already thinking about the mini-bar and room service.

A low voice woke me up from my thoughts. “Hey there, little red riding hood. I’ve been waiting for a sweet thing like you all night.” I looked up to see a very pale man with slicked back green hair and cool blue eyes. I gave him a once over. He was dressed in a white button down shirt and black trousers. His shoes were expensive as was his watch. His extended hand was covered in gold rings. His look was a little strange, but I decided he was suitable to drive me.

Falcone must have sent one of his made men. I guess he stepped up his game because of the amount of H in these shoes.

I shoved my carry on toward him. “Is this going to fit in there?” I motioned over to the purple Lamborghini by pointing at it with my mouth, my chin coming up slightly and my lips pursing. He started laughing uncontrollably. His laugh chilled me to my core but I couldn’t help but be curious. I decided then and there that I was up for a little adventure. He couldn’t touch me with all this H on me anyway.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He grabbed the bag from me and our fingers touched. I felt an immediate spark of heat. “Scarlett, but call me Red, everyone does.” He rolled his head to the side and snarled. “Red. I like that.” He drove like a maniac, peeling out, not stopping at traffic lights, blowing stop signs and generally being a nut case.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing? Hello? Precious cargo over here. Do I have to remind you that I’ve got the product on me? You’re attracting unwanted attention. Falcone is going to slice your balls off if we get pinched, sweetie.” This got his attention. “Falcone?” He asked in a soft purr. “Yes honey, your boss. What’s your name anyway?” He grinned a wide smile and I could see his metallic teeth.

Fuck. Falcone has some seriously scary people on the payroll. He’s pretty hot too but he’s about as sharp as a spoon.

“Call me, Mister J.” I took my phone out and started getting driving directions to the pier area. “Ok, Mister J. Where are we staying tonight? I need to rest so we can make this drop bright and early tomorrow at the pier. Listen, I’m looking for 5-star but I can do 4-star if Nikolai forgot to make the reservation.” He leaned towards me with a wink. “I know just the place, doll.” His eyes were undressing me. It was nothing that I hadn’t experienced before but this felt different. I found myself flushed and hot. “Can we roll the windows down in here?”

“Sure Red, anything for you.” J smiled and put his hand up to my cheek. The coolness against the warmth building there was explosive. We parked outside the hotel and I tried to get myself together. “Did you bring the other shoes for me?” I asked curiously. “Shoes?” J had opened the car door and was standing over me. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, allowing me to admire and the tattoos that peaked out from underneath. Suddenly he snapped his fingers.

“Stay with me, kitten, you were saying something about shoes.” J grinned at me again and I had to look away to keep from melting. “Yeah, I can’t keep wearing these. I’m wearing the H you know?” He knelt down and started taking the shoes off of me. He slipped them into my tote bag and left my stocking covered feet shoeless.

“I’ll carry you.” J’s eyes were burning through me. I was slick between the legs and my breasts were swelling beneath my blouse. I was so enthralled by his gaze that I didn’t hear the texts buzzing in from Nikolai telling me that Falcone’s guy was at the airport and where the fuck was I because he was still looking for me.

#joker #leto joker #the joker #joker fanfiction #little red riding hood #mysterious #imposter #stockings #drugs #drug mule #wolf in sheep's clothing #revised

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pikapeppa · 4 years

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Felassan/f!Lavellan smut: Caught

Chapter 19 of The Love That Grows From Violence (post-Trespasser Felassan x Tamaris Lavellan) is posted!

In which... well, the title says it. But also, a Dorian cameo!

~7000 words. Read on AO3 instead.

***************************

Tamaris plopped down on her bed and started setting up to write her letters. She was still dearly hoping that Felassan would join her sooner than later, but she had to find some way to occupy her mind until he was finished with his task, or she’d drive herself crazy.

She placed a piece of parchment on the large tome she’d brought upstairs to use as a writing surface. She’d written to Cassandra already a few days ago, so Cassandra didn’t need another update yet. She’d write to Thom instead and leave it to Varric’s ravens to figure out where he might be now, and then she’d write to Bull and to Istimaethoriel and the clan.

She opened her bottle of ink and dipped a quill in it, but before she could start writing, she remembered that she’d meant to call Dorian to apologize for storming off to the roof the last time he’d called.

Fuck, she thought. She put the ink and quill on the bedside table, then went over to the dresser and grabbed the sending crystal.

She rubbed her thumb over the surface, and the crystal pulsed with a gentle purple light as she waited for him to answer. A few seconds later, Dorian’s voice floated up from the crystal’s face.

“Well well, if it isn’t Tamaris of Clan Lavellan,” he drawled. “Thedas’s most unmannerly ex-Inquisitor—”

She rolled her eyes. “Look, do you want me to apologize or not?”

“Oh, excellent,” he said brightly. “Let me just fetch a glass of wine.”

She tsked. “I’m sorry, all right? I…” She sighed. “Things kind of hit a sore point, but I shouldn’t have just left you hanging. I’m sorry.”

“Hm,” Dorian said.

She sighed again. “And I should’ve called sooner to apologize for leaving you hanging. Okay? Are you finished pouting now?”

Dorian chuckled. “I suppose it’ll do. Your apologies are always so charmingly rude.”

She scoffed at this. “You sound like Felassan.”

“I shall take that as a compliment,” Dorian said. “How is he?”

“Why?” Tamaris said pointedly. “Eager to hear from your new best friend, are you?”

Dorian laughed. “That must mean the sending crystals arrived. I hope they’re of use to him. And no, Tamaris, giving sending crystals to Felassan does not mean I love you any less.”

She grunted, then relented. “Seriously though, thank you for sending those to him. He’s really pleased about it. He… I think he might have found a use for them.”

“Oh?” Dorian said curiously.

Tamaris got up from her bed and went to close the door before replying. “I just told him yesterday that Solas took the eluvians from Briala,” she admitted. “I think he’s got an idea to help her relating to your crystals being precursors to eluvians, but I don’t really know.”

“You didn’t ask?” Dorian said.

“He’s busy with something else right now,” she said.

“Well, tell him I’d like to know what he comes up with,” Dorian said. “It would be nice to hear about a project that’s magical in nature instead of political.”

“I bet,” she said sympathetically. Then she realized she hadn’t asked him about the political situation in Tevinter the last time they’d talked. “Fuck, I should’ve asked. How are you and Maevaris doing there? The Lucerni are shaping up?”

“Oh, they’re doing very well,” Dorian said airily. “Learning their manners, using their knives and forks in the correct hands and all. I’m far more interested in hearing more from you.”

“About what?”

“About Felassan,” Dorian said, in a tone that clearly translated to ‘obviously’. “Now that we’re chatting on our own, I’d appreciate some more details.”

“I thought I never gave any interesting details,” she said snidely.

“It’s not too late to start.”

She scoffed and didn’t speak, but in truth, she wasn’t sure where she’d even begin to explain to Dorian about Felassan. Would it even make sense to him to describe how much Felassan mattered to her when she’d only known him for a few weeks?

Dorian spoke again, and his tone was softer. “I quite like him, you know. That was a rather telling conversation to be a part of.”

“How so?” she asked.

“He has many sides,” Dorian said. “That issue with the Dalish clan…” He paused for a moment, and his voice carried no levity when he spoke again. “That was undeniably chilling. I understand why you were angry.”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

“And yet…” Dorian paused again, and Tamaris could easily picture him stroking his mustache in thought. “You’ve been in the house together for how long now?”

“Just about a month,” she said.

“Hm,” Dorian said pensively.

She lifted an eyebrow. “What are you thinking?”

“It’s… interesting,” Dorian said slowly. “Such a short time… but I think he knows you better than Solas did. Possibly better than I do.”

Her gut jolted at this. “What do you mean?”

“When you got angry and left our conversation, Varric and I counselled Felassan to let you have some time alone,” Dorian said. “We told him you prefer to work through it on your own when something bothers you. He refused. He said he wasn’t going to let you sit alone with this because… venhedis, what were the words he used? Something like the brightest flames deserving a gentle hand to stoke them so they don’t burn themselves out. Something like that.”

She stared at the crystal with a ringing of disbelief in her head. Felassan had said that to Dorian and Varric? The brightest flames deserving a gentle hand… He’d said that about her? It certainly sounded like something he’d say. But to say something that tender about her to her friends — to Dorian, whom he didn’t even know…

She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. Then Dorian spoke again, and his voice was a little bit tentative. “It… made me think, actually. That perhaps we were… remiss by not pushing you harder to talk to us after everything happened.”

She cleared her throat. “No, it’s… it’s not your fault,” she said gruffly. “I was…” Gods, she’d been so angry for so long, and she’d become inaccessible in so many ways. It was only now with Felassan’s gentle hands building her up that she could see how much she’d shut herself away.

“I was fucked up, Dorian,” she said. “I wasn’t letting anyone in. It’s not your fault.”

“No,” Dorian said, and Tamaris raised her eyebrows at the vehemence in his tone. “I stopped trying,” he said. “I… I think perhaps we were… scared of your intensity. You can be quite terrifying, you know.”

She huffed despite the lump in her throat. “Thanks, I guess.”

He chuckled, but his tone was somber when he spoke again. “We gave up trying to… to bring you out of your shell. And for that, I am truly sorry. And I am very glad that Felassan seems to have found a way through your shell.” His voice warmed with humour once more. “He’s quite something, isn’t he? I might have a bit of a crush. That voice of his is like a golden trap.”

Tamaris barked out a laugh. “Yeah. He caught me pretty fucking thoroughly.”

The playful words left her mouth and hung in the air between herself and Dorian, like a spritz of perfume that neither of them had expected.

“And she shares details after all,” Dorian said gently. “I knew you had it in you.”

She didn’t reply. She just sat frozen on her bed as her own words rolled through her mind: he caught me thoroughly. All of a sudden, it was like something inside of her had crumbled, breaking apart in her chest and showing what she’d been so reluctant to see all this time.

She could see it now though, in complete crystal clarity, almost like looking through an eluvian’s activated depths: how special Felassan was, how important he was, the possessiveness she felt for him. The desire that continued to ripen between them every day, and the laughter they shared over the stupidest jokes and teases.

Felassan was everything she’d been terrified of letting in for the past few years, and without quite meaning to, she’d summarized her feelings for him in just a few unfiltered words to Dorian: he caught me thoroughly. She’d tried to hide from him and she’d tried to run, and she’d tried to keep him away from her most damaged parts like she’d done to everyone else. And still he’d caught her — not because he was a trap like Dorian’s joke suggested, but because he was wide open.

Felassan was a warm and open smile and wide-open arms. Tamaris had stumbled clumsily toward those wide-open arms, and Felassan had caught her.

Dorian’s voice jolted her from her jittery reverie. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” she said huskily. “I’m… I’m still here.”

“Do you have to go?” he said.

His voice was warm and understanding, and she could easily picture the curl of his smile beneath his mustache. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ll, um… I’ll call you in a couple days.”

“There’s no rush,” Dorian said. “I’m very busy and important, so I might not have time for you for a while.”

She huffed in amusement, and Dorian chuckled. “Goodnight, Tamaris.”

“Goodnight,” she said. “And… thanks, lethallin.”

“You’re welcome, my friend,” he said. Then the sending crystal went dim.

Tamaris set it gently on the bedside table. She picked up the quill and ink, then just sat there on her bed holding them and not doing anything.

He caught me, she thought. It still stunned her how aptly the words described her feelings for Felassan. When they’d first met, she’d been stuck in a sort of freefall of bitterness and self-isolation, barely veiled by the alcohol she’d taken to drinking every night. But Felassan tolerated her moods and her snappishness, and he’d made her laugh and helped her quit the booze. And more quickly than she’d ever imagined possible, she’d slipped into a different sort of freefall altogether – one that was more tempting and terrifying than any bottle of liquor could ever be.

She’d started falling for Felassan. And no matter how much she resisted it, no matter how much she tried to keep him at bay and to shield her unhealed wounds from him, he’d stood there patiently with his cheeky jokes and his warm amethyst eyes and his wide-open arms.

Tamaris had fallen for Felassan, and with his infinite patience and care, he had caught her.

She didn’t know how long she sat there on the bed holding her ink and quill and thinking about him. But when he finally knocked on her bedroom door, she hadn’t written a single word.

As always, he stepped into her room without waiting for a response. His face was wreathed in a cheeky smile, and her blood thrilled at the sight of him, but she forced herself to give him the annoyed look that she knew he expected.

“Why do you bother knocking when you’re just going to walk right in anyway?” she asked.

“Because I have excellent manners,” he said. “Knocking is polite.”

“Walking right in is rude,” she pointed out.

“My manners are selective,” he said airily. “Sometimes a little rudeness is exactly what’s called for.” He sauntered over to the bed and gestured at it. “May I?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Since when do you ask for permission to lie on my bed?”

“Since the bed is already occupied,” he said. He eyed the blank parchment that was scattered on the bed. “You got far with your letter-writing, I see.”

His smile was teasing, and Tamaris desperately would have liked to make a clever retort, but the conversation with Dorian was still too fresh and thrilling in her mind. “I was talking to Dorian,” she said, and she started clearing her belongings from the bed to make space for him.

“Ah,” Felassan said. “How is my new best friend?” He lay down beside her and tucked his arms behind his head.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “The two of you are ridiculous. Fucking thick as thieves after one single conversation.”

He smirked. “What can I say? It was a good conversation.”

“So I heard,” Tamaris said.

He looked at her. “Did you, now?”

She tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. “Um, yeah.”

“What did you hear?” he said.

His tone was light and casual, but his face was warm and expectant and open, and… gods, Tamaris had fallen hard for him, and she couldn’t believe she’d resisted for so long.

She gazed at him in silence for a moment. Then, carefully, she shifted closer to him and straddled his hips.

His lips curled in a tiny smile, but his soft and expectant eyes never left her face. Tamaris swallowed hard, and without looking away from his precious handsome face, she peeled her sleeveless tunic over her head.

She cast her tunic to the floor, then dropped her gaze to her hands as she unbuttoned the front clasps of her bra. She dropped her bra on the floor, then deftly unstrapped her left arm and placed it on the floor as well. And only then, when she was bared to Felassan’s gaze from the waist up, did she met his eye again.

He was watching her intensely. His eyes were wide and hungry as they tracked over her breasts and the planes of her bare belly, and she could feel the hardening of his cock beneath her as his greedy gaze took her in. But his arms were still folded behind his head, and he was making no move to touch her.

When his eyes finally returned to her face, her heart thumped. His eyes were glowing faintly, lit warmly from within by magic and desire. But what really stole her breath was the tenderness in his face.

A pang of nerves shot through her belly. It was a good pang, though — a pang that reminded her in no uncertain terms that she was not alone in this. She was not alone in the roiling storm of desire between them, desire that was thickened and deepened by the obvious emotion that they both shared.

But Felassan lay quiet and still with his arms tucked behind his head. As the seconds ticked by and her heart thudded in her ears, she realized what he was waiting for — what he’d been waiting for this morning, and what he’d been waiting for all along, ever since the morning after their first time.

He was waiting for her. He was waiting for her to act, to speak – to tell him in no uncertain terms that this was what she wanted.

Tamaris took a deep breath. And finally, after weeks of keeping the words trapped at the back of her tongue, she let them loose.

“I want you,” she said.

A beautiful smile lit his face, but his words were serious. “Are you sure?”

Tamaris rested her right hand on his abs and tilted her hips forward. She rubbed herself slowly against the bulge between his legs, and his smile slipped into a look of want.

“I’m sure,” she said firmly. “I want you, Felassan. I’m ready.”

He exhaled slowly and smiled once more. “Good,” he said softly. Then, finally, he reached for her with one hand.

Her breath hitched as his fingers approached her. He placed his palm flat on her body, his fingers brushing her sternum as his thumb traced the underside of her breast, and Tamaris stopped breathing.

Slowly and delicately, he trailed his fingers down her sternum toward her navel, and a bloom of heated anticipation burst to life between her legs at the nearness of his fingers to her groin. But his hand was slowly moving back up, his palm breezing very gently over her skin, and then he was trailing his fingertips beneath her breasts, stroking the curves of her body as though he was storing their shape in his fingertips for later.

Tamaris arched helplessly toward his teasing hand. He continued his slow and careful perusal of her skin, skimming his knuckles over the taut planes of her belly and brushing his fingers over her collarbones, and all the while he was avoiding her nipples, brushing his thumb and his knuckles around them but never over their hardened little peaks.

Within the space of a minute, Tamaris was panting and rocking her hips, and the buzzing of unfulfilled desire in her nipples was almost more than she could bear. When Felassan lowered his hand from her chest, she arched her spine and moaned.

“Please,” she begged. “Felassan, touch me!”

A smile lit his face. He carefully sat up on his elbows, then pushed himself upright without shifting her off of his lap, and Tamaris grabbed his shoulder for balance; they were face-to-face now, and his one arm was encircling her waist. He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers, and her excitement ratcheted up as she anticipated his kiss–

“Lean back,” he murmured against her lips. “Let me touch you.”

She immediately leaned back, keeping her one hand on his shoulder for support. Then Felassan dipped his head low and licked her nipple.

A bolt of lust shot through her body straight down to her groin. She gasped and arched toward his mouth, but he kept his touch teasing and light, running his tongue over her nipple with smooth long strokes before pulling very lightly at the peak with his lips.

Tamaris twisted desperately on his lap, but his arm was too tight around her waist, and Felassan didn’t relent; he continued to torture her nipple with little flicks of the tongue and tugs of his lips, and when he moved on to treat her other nipple with the same glorious and terrible attention, she actually sobbed.

“You fucking tease,” she whined.

He lifted his mouth and grinned. “I’m not teasing. I’m simply savouring. The memory of your nipples in my mouth has been keeping me up at night for weeks.”

“So suck on them already!” she burst out.

He laughed wickedly. “Why would I do that when I could have you squirming on my lap like this?” He dropped his head once more and brushed his cheek over the peak of her breast, and she let out a strained little moan.

“Felassan…” She tried to tilt her hips down to press against the bulge of his cock. Maybe if she riled him up, she could goad him into touching her more firmly. But as she twisted in the muscular grip of his arm, she realized something: he was holding her in such a way that she couldn’t rub herself against him.

“Why are you torturing me like this?” she demanded.

“Because I know you like it,” he replied.

She let out a breathy laugh. “You are such a smug asshole.”

“And you burn much more brightly when I stoke you in just the right way,” he murmured.

She darted a look at him, and her heart squeezed. Despite the salacious undertone of his words, his eyes were tender and warm.

In this moment, she realized that he knew what she and Dorian had been talking about. Felassan knew that Dorian had told her what he’d said after she’d walked away.

But he didn’t know all of it. He didn’t know what she had told to Dorian in turn: that she had fallen hard for Felassan, and that she was so incredibly grateful to be caught.

She clasped his neck in her hand and kissed him. His lips parted for her, and she nipped his lips and stroked his tongue with hers as passionately as she could in the desperate hope that her kiss would tell him what she wanted him to know, but still wasn’t quite brave enough to say.

She gently suckled his lower lip, and he let out the most beautiful growly groan. Then his hand was curving along the side of her neck, his fingers sliding into her hair, and when he pulled her head back to kiss her throat, she mewled and twisted her hips again, to no avail.

“Felassan, please,” she whined. He was leaving a trail of tiny open-mouthed kisses along the taut line of her neck and down, and the closer his lips got to her breast, the more she became convinced that she was going to explode before he even really touched her.

He hummed against her collarbone, then suddenly took her nipple in his mouth and suckled hard, and she cried out in surprise and clasped his neck to hold him close. He pulled her nipple deeply into his mouth like he was trying to draw all of the pleasure in her body toward the perfect hard pressure of his lips, and just when Tamaris was starting to feel some relief, he released her.

She dug her nails into his neck. “Felassan, just – fuck me!” she blurted.

He burst out a little laugh, then suddenly rolled her over. The next thing she knew, she was sprawled on her back beneath him.

He placed a tiny teasing kiss on her breast. “You’re so impatient. But I’m not sure you’re ready.”

She laughed giddily and lifted her hips toward him. “This again? You’re so fucking mean.”

He tutted and rolled her nipple between his fingers. “Don’t slander me. I’m not mean; I’m extremely nice. In fact, I am so nice that I shall check to make sure you’re ready for me.” He sat back on his knees and started unlacing her breeches, and she panted and twisted her hips restlessly until her breeches were undone. By the time his deft fingers were finally pulling her breeches and smallclothes down, her smalls were so wet that they clung to her for a moment before finally peeling away.

Felassan let out a slow and breathy groan, then reached down and ran his palm over his bulging groin. Satisfied by his reaction, Tamaris lifted her hips and spread her legs. “Does that mean I’m ready?” she asked cheekily.

He lifted his eyes to her face, and another bolt of excitement coursed through her blood: his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were aglow. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I think I need a closer look. Maybe a taste.”

She burst out a breathy laugh. “You’re so full of– oh gods!” His head was between her legs, and she arched and clenched her fingers in the sheets: Felassan was devouring her, his mouth moving between her legs in a ravenous rhythm of open-mouthed kisses and long hungry laps of his tongue, and for a moment she just lay there gasping for breath, stunned by the torrid heat of his lips and tongue as he drank in the evidence of desire that he’d fostered between her legs. He clasped her thighs and held her wide as he kissed her sex, and it really felt like he was tasting her, like he was taking the time to feast on every fold of her flesh and every drop of slippery nectar that heralded her desperate want.

Then his attention honed onto her clit. His ravenous mouth became gentle and slow – oh fuck, so gentle and slow: he was doing nothing more now than brushing his lower lip over her swollen clit, and it felt so fucking good and so fucking torturous that she lifted her head to stare pleadingly at him.

A pulse of excitement made her lightheaded: he was looking at her, too. His beautiful amethyst eyes were glowing and his cheeks and ears were flushed, and he was looking directly at her face while he caressed her clit with his lower lip.

A hint of a smile curled the corner of his mouth. Without breaking her gaze, Felassan ran his tongue over her clit, and she gasped and stared breathlessly into his eyes, stunned by desire and by the sheer intimacy of this act. Having him watching her while he feasted on her, knowing that she was watching him… There was something so intimate about it, almost more intimate than the act itself, and as he licked her and kissed her and brought her toward her peak while gazing into her eyes, she knew that the pounding of her heart was more than just sheer lust.

She stared at him, lightheaded with pleasure and want and the fervency of her own affection. He gazed steadily at her in turn, his eyes glittering with magic and with carnal intent, and only when her climax suddenly burst did she break from his hypnotic gaze.

She slammed her head back into the pillows and let out a visceral cry. Felassan was still licking her clit, lavishing the sensitive bud with gentle little laps while his palms smoothed along the insides of her thighs, and when Tamaris’s scintillating climax ebbed away, he finally lifted his mouth from between her legs.

He wiped his mouth on her belly, then shifted up higher on the bed to lounge beside her, but his hand was still drifting over her inner thigh. “Did you enjoy that, avise?” he murmured.

She nodded, feeling too good and too spent to talk, and Felassan smirked. “Yes? You liked watching me while I slid my tongue over that tight little nub between your legs?”

A fresh shiver of lust pulsed between legs. “Yes,” she breathed.

He nodded thoughtfully. Then he curved his fingers against the sensitive folds of her sex. “Did you enjoy staring at me while I made you come all over my tongue?” he asked.

His tone was innocent, but his voice was so fucking smooth, and his fingers lying still against her body were sheer torture. She gasped and bucked her hips toward his hand. “Fuck’s sake, Felassan, yes!”

He angled his wrist and slid two fingers inside of her, and she cried out and arched her back. Then Felassan pressed his lips to her ear. “Ar em hartha al emathast’sulahn mar asreun’en bellanaris,” he purred.

Oh fuck, she thought deliriously. This was what he’d been threatening for weeks, the words in his own native tongue–

He curled his fingers inside of her. She mewled and grabbed his shirt, and he spoke into her ear again. “Ir silras ahnsul al palash’odhe mar blardhea.”

“Felassan,” she whined. She didn’t know what he was saying, but — but fuck it, he was right: there was something about the rhythm of his words, the tone and liquid lilt of his accent shaped around the ancient Elvhen words, and it was doing something wonderful to her, even though she couldn’t discern his meaning.

He slid his fingers inside of her in a slow and careful thrust. “Ir’emah diana’ma sule ma tela odhea i’tel em,” he murmured, and Tamaris sobbed and twisted helplessly beneath him. His fingers were swirling inside of her, and as Felassan continued to whisper in her ear, it felt like his words were swirling inside of her as well. His fluid Elvhen words were finding something hidden in her blood and bringing it to life, making her feel more alive and in tune with the feeling of his fingers curling inside of her and striking the perfect place of pleasure inside of her body–

She came suddenly, to her own surprise, and she was so taken aback by the suddenness of her climax that she couldn’t even cry out. She couldn’t breathe or say a word; all she could do was lie arching and splayed on her bed as the pleasure of his fingers and his words spanned and pulsed through her entire body from her scalp all the way to the tips of her toes.

When she could finally breathe again, all she could manage was the faintest moan. Felassan chuckled, then lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

For some reason, his voice was curled with humour. She took a deep breath, then spoke on a moan. “Does what hurt?”

“Your chest,” he said.

My chest? she thought in confusion. She opened her eyes and looked down at her chest, and her eyebrows leapt up.

There were long red marks across her chest – scoremarks from her own nails. She’d scratched herself in the throes of her rapture, and she hadn’t even noticed.

“Oh shit,” she said. She burst out a breathy laugh, then groaned and stretched languidly on the bed. “I didn’t even feel that.”

“Too busy feeling other things?” Felassan said slyly.

She admired his gorgeous cheeky grin, then rolled toward him and pushed him onto his back. “Get naked,” she said.

He tsked. “There you go, commanding me again.” He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, then started unlacing his breeches, and Tamaris watched avidly the laces came undone.

He lifted his hips and started pushing down his breeches, and she was amused to note once again that he was wearing no underwear. “All right,” he said playfully. “Are you satisfi–”

She surged toward him and kissed him, cutting off his playful words, and then she was straddling him and clutching his shoulder for support while she rubbed her slick cleft along the length of his cock.

He moaned loudly into her mouth and grabbed her shoulder blades, and Tamaris greedily swallowed the sound of his pleasure as she curled her hips toward him. He was so gorgeously hard and smooth, and his fingers were sliding firmly from her shoulder blades down her back as though he was savouring her skin beneath his fingers. She rocked against him, spreading her slickness along the length of his cock, and he broke from their kiss with a gasp.

“Tamaris,” he moaned. He grabbed her hips and tried to lift her, but she tensed her thighs and went still.

Felassan’s eyes darted to her face. “Is something wrong?” he panted.

She twisted her lips wryly. “I just don’t think you’re ready.”

He stared at her for a second. Then a wicked smile burst across his face. “Oh, avise,” he said, and he laughed. “You can’t withhold from me.”

“I’m not withholding,” she said innocently. “I really don’t think you’re ready. I’d better take a closer look.” She slid off of his lap and shuffled down between his legs, then braced her weight on her shortened left arm and brushed her lips over the head of his cock.

He grunted with pleasure and lifted his hips, and Tamaris purposely lifted her head to look at him. “I want to know what you said to me in Elvhen,” she said.

“I said a lot of things to you in Elvhen,” he replied. His smile was cheeky but the light in his eyes was an urgent glow, and Tamaris admired the obvious lust in his face before lowering her head toward his cock.

Felassan jerked his hips, and she lifted her head once more without touching him with her mouth. “Tell me some of the things you said,” she demanded.

He exhaled shakily and smiled. “Whatever happened to enjoying a little mystery?”

She took his cock in her mouth and all way down her throat, and the sound he made… gods, it was guttural and animalistic and full of desire, and it was almost enough to make her give up the teasing act and fuck him.

With an immense effort of will, she resisted. She slowly released his cock, then sat back on her heels. “Tell me, Felassan,” she said, and she placed her hand on his thigh, teasingly close to his cock.

His eyes glittered with heat as they focused on her hand. “So cruelly insistent. One thing I said was this: ‘I could listen to the symphony of your orgasms forever.’”

A ripple of want burned down her throat toward her belly. She took his cock in her fist and pumped him once, and he leaned his head back with another gorgeous groan.

“Tamaris…” he breathed.

She stroked his length once more, then released him. “What else did you say?”

He lifted his head to look at her with his luminous eyes. “I also said this: ‘I am drunk on the perfume of your pussy.’”

Oh fuck, she thought feverishly. She crawled back up his body to straddle his hips and rubbed her slick heat against the length of his cock. “What else did you say?” she panted.

He moaned and squeezed her hip. “Tamaris, I need you…”

“Is that something you said?”

“It is something I’m saying now,” he said sharply.

She smiled at his snappish tone, then leaned in and brushed her lips over the tip of his ear. “Tell me something else you said,” she whispered.

He suddenly wrapped his fist in her hair and pulled her head to the side, and she cried out with pleasure at the sudden pull. He lifted his hips to rub against her pussy and dragged his tongue along the side of her neck, and by the time his lips were at her ear, she was practically sobbing with want.

“‘I’m going to fill you up until you can’t breathe without me’,” he growled. “That is something else I said. Can I do as I promised now, or have you not had enough of provoking me?”

“Yes!” she gasped.

He nipped her neck. “Yes to what?” he demanded.

“Yes, I want you to fill me up!” she cried.

He smiled against her ear. “That’s all you had to say,” he purred. He released her hair and lifted her hips, then started slowly lowering her onto his cock.

She mewled and dug her nails into Felassan’s shoulder, and he burst out a guttural breath. “Ar iselana mana per ma...” he moaned.

She panted for breath and didn’t reply, and he continued to fill her up inch by blissful inch. When she was fully seated on his cock, they exhaled together in a groan at the completeness of their melding bodies.

He slid his palms from her thighs up to her hips, and Tamaris wrapped her arm around his neck. In tandem, they began moving together in a languid rolling rhythm.

Tamaris slowly curled her hips to meet him and pressed her forehead to his. “What did you just say?” she breathed.

He let out a breathy groan and stroked her back. “I said… I said that I have waited so long for you.”

She went still for a moment, and Felassan cradled her neck. “And I would have continued to wait,” he murmured. “I told you before, avise. Some things are worth waiting for.”

She stared wordlessly into his steady violet eyes. A bloom of emotion burst in her chest and spread through her rib cage, rising up through her throat and pressing at the back of her eyes, and when Felassan’s expression grew tender, she knew that he could see it too.

She kissed him and flexed her hips to take him deep. He slid his arms around her, and then he was hugging her tightly as he filled her with his cock, and as Tamaris suckled his tongue and breathed against his lips, she wished she had two whole arms if only to hold him just as tightly as he was holding her.

She hugged him with her right arm and rested her stunted left arm on his shoulder. Without breaking the rolling grind of their hips or breaking from her kiss, Felassan reached up and stroked her shortened arm, smoothing his hand firmly from her shoulder down to the stump and back, and the bloom of affection in her chest only seemed to swell more hotly than before.

She kissed him hard, then broke from his lips to breathe against his cheek. “Move me how you want me,” she whispered. He’d pleased her so much already, with his mouth and his hands and his filthy Elvhen words, and the slow thrust of his cock was pleasing her all the more, and all she wanted was to make him feel just as good.

He squeezed her shortened left arm, then slid his arms around her once more. “This is how I want you,” he told her. “A slow-burning flame for this slow arrow.”

She smiled against his cheek. “That’s a lot of words to say – ah — that you like what I’m doing already.”

His pleasured groan drifted across her ear, followed by his husky voice. “I know how much you like my words. And I am very good with them. Did you know that I was once a very good spy–”

“Shut up,” she laughed breathily, and she took his lips in another kiss. She cradled his neck and rolled against his lap in a slow and steady grind, and Felassan licked her tongue and stroked her back and lifted his hips to meet her, and despite the distracting bliss of his body meeting with hers, Tamaris was careful to note when his hips became more jerky and his kisses more firm.

He broke from her lips with a breathy grunt, and Tamaris’s excitement flared anew; his eyes were glowing once more, glittering with the kind of hot luminance that meant his control was starting to slip. She lifted her hips and came down more firmly on his cock, and he jolted and grabbed her hip.

“Ah,” he gasped. “That — Tamaris–”

He didn’t need to say anything more; without any further cueing, Tamaris began to fuck him in a hard and rapid rise-and-fall.

She clasped his neck and gazed into his eyes. He was staring at her too, his eyes glazed and feverish with need, and as Tamaris continued to lift and lower herself on the slick length of his cock, his face began to twist with the most beautiful expression of longing.

“Tamaris,” he begged.

“I know,” she breathed. She kissed him once more, then turned his head to the side and nipped his neck.

He gasped out the most beautiful pleasured sound, and she felt his cock jerking inside of her. She kissed and licked his neck, then started sucking on his skin with just enough pressure to hurt. His breathing grew erratic beside her ear and his cock became even harder, striking even deeper inside of her body, and Tamaris whimpered and bit his neck.

He dug his nails into her shoulder blade and cried out in climax, and Tamaris hugged him with her right arm as he groaned and panted and shuddered ecstatically beneath her. She continued to roll against him, taking his thickness into her body and savouring his length as he filled her up, and when his shuddering stilled and his fingers went lax against her back, she finally went still on his lap.

She brushed her lips over his temple, then down to his jaw. He sighed languidly and leaned his head to the side, and Tamaris happily took advantage of the angle to nuzzle the side of his neck.

She kissed and licked his neck, and he let out another lazy sigh and ran his hand over her curly hair. “Are you hungry? I can make you something. You don’t need to feed on the salt from my skin.”

She lifted her lips. “I thought you liked it when I suck on your neck.”

“I love it when you suck on my neck,” he said.

She stroked his cheek, then brushed her lips over his ear. “Then stop complaining,” she whispered.

He laughed – that perfect, lilting roll of a laugh — then lifted her off of his lap and settled her on the bed so they were lying face-to-face. “Abrasive and tender in a single breath,” he said. “What a quixotic marvel you are.”

His palm was moving in a slow and lazy stroke along the side of her hip. She smiled goofily at him, but she couldn’t help but compare their current pose to the way they’d fallen asleep last night. They’d been lying face-to-face like this last night, and Felassan had been gazing at her in this soft and tender way. But this moment now was so much better than last night. Now, his face wasn’t tinted with sadness and ravaged with tears. Now, their skin was completely bare and dappled with the shared dampness of each other’s sweat and sex.

Now, Tamaris could finally admit to herself that she had fallen in love with Felassan.

“What’s on your mind?” he murmured.

I love you, she thought. But she still couldn’t tell him yet. The admission was still too fresh in her mind, too new and too tender to release into the air, and despite the unmitigated depth of her feelings, she wasn’t quite ready to tell him yet.

“I think I am hungry after all,” she said. “Can you bring me a snack?”

He smiled slowly at her, then pulled her against his body. “I take back that offer,” he grumbled. “You’re getting far too pampered.”

“Spoilsport,” she said. Then she squealed when his fingers crept teasingly over her ribs.

“Don’t tickle!” she gasped, but he didn’t give in, and soon she was helpless with laughter beneath him.

She grabbed his hand to stop him. “Okay,” she wheezed. “Okay, okay, I don’t need a snack.”

He lifted his hand to cradle her neck. “That’s a relief,” he said. “Because I’m not willing to leave this bed anytime soon.”

She gazed happily into his perfect violet eyes, then tilted her chin up for a kiss. I’ll tell him soon, she thought. Soon, she would find the courage to tell him that she loved him.

But for now, she would linger in the heat of his sweat-laced skin, and she would enjoy the precious feeling of being caught.

#felassan #save felassan #felassan romance #felassan/lavellan #felassan x lavellan #felassan/inquisitor #felassan x inquisitor #the love that grows from violence #pikapeppa writes

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ardent-musings · 3 years

Text

The Girl Who Vanished (Part 1)

Chapter 22: The Toothless Lion and the Jaded Snake

A month had gone by since her discussion with the twins in the owlery and the boys kept their promise. Multiple times their breakfast would be interrupted by the Slytherin captain throwing up his meal, or he would enter the common room with a new hair color. It seemed like it was something new every other day and the boy was distraught. He was no longer boastful as he walked through the halls, but he would silently glare at anyone and anything as he heaved and grumbled about. It was beautiful. And Ana would have the Weasley boys to thank.

Aeron had finally perked up; once he noticed that no one, not even Alex was trying to kick him out of the group, he beamed with appreciation. Also, the sight of his enemy crawling across the floor because he had been hit by the Jelly-Legs Jinx was hard to not laugh at. That was all she wanted. She wanted the boy who had hid himself for months to break out of his shell. And he was.

The four of them were sitting together in Herbology; Aeron and Ana together while Alex was with Calista. Professor Sprout looked as warm as ever underneath her large hat while she smiled softly at the girl she had grown to care deeply for. It was unusual for her to have a student such as Ana, and that only made the day even more splendid for the grayed witch.

The class went over the medicinal Fluxweed plant; another plant that Ana's mother grew year round in their garden. It was a key ingredient in her medicine, so Ana had grown very familiar with the common weed. She spent an hour planting and watering for both her and Aeron, who refused to get his hands messy; though Ana didn't mind. Aeron kept her company well enough as he began talking about some old revolution they had learned in their last history lesson. The course material was yawn-worthy and yet the budding boy had a way of making it interesting. After laughing with Aeron until the end of their lesson, she was starving and only had dinner on her mind. As soon as class ended she was already chatting with Alex about the upcoming Quidditch tryouts when the kind voice of her professor called for her. Without hesitating, Ana gallivanted towards her favorite teacher with glee, encouraging her friends to go on without her.

"It's good to see you in such a good mood, Ana. I'm assuming that the sleeping potion has been helping?" The woman hummed as she held one of the young girl's hands in between both of her own. Ana's nose scrunched happily and she nodded in return. "Good. Very good."

Ana wasn't sure why she was called over, but this alone time with Professor Sprout was nice. The sun was no longer as hot as it had been an hour earlier and the sky was turning into a beautiful watercolor of pinks and yellows. Two colors that she associated with Professor Sprout.

"Well I called you because I want to invite you to the greenhouse after dinner!" She sang softly with shimmering eyes. "I have someone I'd like for you to meet, dear. Would you care for a visit?"

The young witch couldn't imagine turning down Sprout's invitation, it would be a crime to decline. Since her first year the head of Hufflepuff had shown her more care and concern than her own head of house. Snape wasn't horrible, but goodness, he was no Professor Sprout. Snape was kind if he had to be, Sprout was kind because that was just who she was by nature.

"Of course Professor! I'd love to meet them," she smiled from ear to ear, positively glowing with the prospect of meeting someone who had the woman so enthralled. With a charming smile, Sprout beamed at the young girl before sending Ana off to eat.

Dinner went by in a breeze, and Ana couldn't help but bounce with happiness in her seat as she tried guessing who she was going to meet. Perhaps it would be the twins' brother Ron, or maybe even the boy who lived. Regardless, Ana was just excited to spend even more time with her favorite teacher. She practically scarfed down her strawberries and soup, which worried Lucian; he feared she was going to choke. Ana blurted to her friends that she was going to be elsewhere after dinner, and all four of her friends found it bizarre how excited she was to sit among the dirt again, but it made her happy. So it made them happy.

The sight of Ana gleaming and buzzing with joy also made another onlooker happy, although he would never admit it. He couldn't. At least not yet.

After eating as much as she could, Ana gave her quickest yet sincerest goodbyes as she went straight from the Great Hall to the greenhouses. It wasn't unusual for her to frequent the greenhouses after dinner, but now she would have another person to talk to.

Ana entered the glass structure and noticed that it had been untouched since her class; Professor Sprout must still be at dinner, she assumed. It was wonderfully silent, the plants went about their business as she sat patiently, enjoying the stillness of it all. The air was warm yet light, her breathing always seemed to cycle more evenly when she was among all the greenery. It was a safe place for her.

A crash sounded from behind her, and she swiveled in her seat to see a younger blushy boy bend over to pick up a broken flower pot. Thankfully it was empty so there were no plant deaths to mourn, but the accident did break the young girl out of her moment of appreciation.

"Sorry, I didn't me- did I- did I scare you?" he gulped as he noticed just how composed the girl in front of him was. She didn't look angry, but she didn't look happy. It seemed to him like she was just simply there. Like how air just simply exists, quiet yet still. And he came in bumbling and unbalanced.

"You didn't scare me. I've knocked that pot over too many times to count last year. I keep suggesting to Professor Sprout that we move it, but she insists it stay there," she greeted him with a welcoming smile which almost threw the boy off balance again given her green robes. "Reparo" she fixed the pot as quickly as it broke.

He wobbled over to her with one arm slung in a bandage, muttering a quiet thanks as he kept his gaze on his shoes which were untied, but he didn't dare move to fix them. The girl in front of him might judge him. Every millisecond of silence made the boy wish that Professor Sprout was with them already, just to kill the awkwardness. Conversely, Ana was just happy to have company.

"I'm Ana," she said gently, trying to gauge the younger boy's nervousness, he still refused to look her in the eyes. This wasn't exactly how she thought this evening would go, but Ana trusted Professor Sprout's judgement of the boy; who apparently was a Gryffindor based on his red tie. "So you were sorted into Gryffindor? That's pretty cool."

The little lion was surprised that a Slytherin was talking to her, he was scared of the Slytherins in his year and once he saw her green robes he had almost turned and walked away altogether. It wasn't even that the girl was innately scary, he was just scared of most things.

"I don't feel like a Gryffindor,' Ana was surprised the boy would reveal something he was insecure about so easily, but she let him continue, "maybe if I was a to-toothless lion it'd make more sense."

She nodded her head slowly, he just needed some encouragement, "I don't know about that. Everyone starts out without teeth, but they come in eventually."

For the first time in the whole night, the stuttering boy looked her in the eyes where a tiny twinkle resided in his wide brown ones. It was a tiny success, but it was progress, Ana reveled. A decent amount of time went by and the head of Hufflepuff had yet to join them, so Ana decided to grab her Fluxweed plant from a few hours earlier and she began to instruct the boy on what it did and how to take care of it. The green plant nearly matched the ill look on the boy's face when he first walked in. It took a bit of time, but soon the boy was asking questions; he stumbled over his words but he had the courage to utter them still.

He was astounded by the gentle girl who would smile at him patiently whenever he had a random or obscure question about the plant. She took it in stride and answered every inquiry to the best of her ability and he began to enjoy his time. No longer were his palms sweaty or his knees wobbly in fear, he even let out a chuckle when a neighboring plant began hiccupping. Ana celebrated in his laugh and smiled back at him.

It was the first of many laughs and smiles they would share that night.

"Ana! Stop! I don't need any more water!" He choked on his laughter as she began spritzing his dark hair with a water bottle; his arms flailed as he tried to escape the mist. Ana covered her grinning aching face in her hands, it had been a long time since she laughed so hard. The boy's larger front teeth poked out as he bellowed loudly at the girl.

"I'm trying to help you grow!"

"Well, well, well, look at my two favorite students," a whimsical voice said from the entrance of the greenhouses, "I had a feeling you two would get along."

The two students nodded enthusiastically as Professor Sprout joined them at the benches they were perched at; the soles of their hands were covered in dirt but their smiles never faded. During their time of getting to know each other and mucking around, they hadn't even noticed, even through the transparent walls of the greenhouse that the sky had turned pitch black.

"Neville, I'm sorry. There was a meeting for all the heads of houses, but I'm glad to see you, hun," the woman offered the boy a smile; the kind that Ana had received on more than one occasion. Neville glowed at the welcome. "Unfortunately, it is late so maybe we should do this again another day, yes?"

Begrudgingly, the two students agreed, finding it too dark out to escape getting caught by Filch. They had to go their separate ways to their own common rooms, but they mirrored happy smiles at the thought of spending more time together.

~ Quidditch tryouts were absolutely excruciating, the whole time Flint was in a horrific mood since most of the time he was throwing up slugs from fifty feet in the air. For a split second she felt bad for the captain, but then she peered over to where Aeron was sitting with Calista on the stands. Aeron was a bit nervous at the idea of returning to the pitch, but he ultimately decided to support both Ana and Alex as long as Calista was with him. Aeron was there for her, and Ana knew she would return the favor for the boy. Always.

Thankfully, his skin had improved tremendously since she had begun making healing potions in her down time for him in exchange for his tutoring. It took some convincing for the boy to agree to the deal, but in the end, there was no stopping Ana when she wanted to help him heal from something Flint started.

Ana and Alex were the only two going for the singular chaser position since the last player graduated the previous year. They were put through drill after drill, while Lucian and Derrick swatted the bludgers their way as they furiously tried to score against Miles Bletchley. It was tougher than any flying session Ana had done with Draco over the past few years, but the sting of the cool morning air kept her on high alert. She had always chased after Draco who was incredibly fast on a broom and that practice came out during her tryouts.

Being on the ground, on her unsteady two feet meant that Ana toppled over quite a bit. Flying was an entirely different story; she couldn't trip on air, she could only soar. Draco knew this, and he smiled up at his sister from his place in the stands, there was no way he was going to miss his sister's attempt to get on the team. It would be a big deal to the family if she were to make it as a second year. He didn't want to put that pressure on his sisters, so he hid his nervousness behind his cheers of support.

It had been a few hours until the very ill Marcus Flint called it a day. He had been vomiting on and off the whole time and at some point the sun grew stronger which made the situation even nastier. The final line up for the team was going to take a few days to deliberate so all the Slytherins made their way to the Great Hall to fill up on a well-deserved lunch.

Ana was positively starving, almost matching the ferocity at which Alex typically ate her lunch. Aeron and Calista were discussing both muggle and wizarding history, comparing and contrasting the two, while Lucian talked to Derrick about who would possibly fill the seeker position that Gryffindor needed to fill since Charlie Weasley had graduated. Ana was happy to be in her little bubble as she filled herself on fresh strawberries and as much pasta as she could stomach.

Draco walked into the Great Hall and Ana all but yelled for her brother to join her. He smiled when he saw her, his feet pulling him to his sister until his dorm mates, Crabbe, Goyle, and a few other boys grabbed him by his elbows and directed him out of the hall. One of the boys that joined her brother was Marcus Flint and all Ana could see was red. She hated that Flint had for some reason decided to become chummy with a boy that was five years younger than him. All she wanted was to rip the two away from each other and unfortunately she knew she couldn't. Showing any resentment towards the captain would be a sure fire way for her to not get picked for the team.

Lucian noticed the fury behind her eyes, "You alright, Ana?" he smiled as he poured another helping of strawberries on her plate. Ana's furiousness lessened at the boy's thoughtful offering and nodded with little conviction. She wasn't okay with anything that was happening, but she was for damn sure going to keep an eye on it.

After the intense tryouts, dinner, and showers, the group laid around the common room to relax. Calista was sitting on the floor at Alex's feet while she excitedly explained the plot of a movie The Karate Kid. Everyone listened to her recall the most interesting part of the movie, Aeron seemed to take the most notice; his eyes glowed at the story of the boy who learned how to stand up for himself. Ana had to admit, it sounded like a fun movie, she just lamented the fact that she'd probably never get to watch it.

Lucian and Ana sat next to each other on a different couch, taking breaks to talk to each other about the Quidditch tryouts and then returning their attention to Calista. Ana was finally relaxing at the sound of the crackling fire and her little family around her. Her head was nestled on one of the arm rests, trying her hardest to stay awake to enjoy their down time together. Despite how much she wanted to soak in the sound of Calista's excited voice, Ana's eyes began to grow heavy the longer she laid there, the feeling only growing worse after Lucian draped a blanket over her shivering body.

A loud wallop of boys' screaming disturbed her little nap and the group grew silent as Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Flint came charging into the common room. It made Ana cringe, seeing the fifth year running around with a bunch of eleven year olds; his uneven facial hair made him stick out like a sore thumb. Flint had been hanging with the group so much, to the point where Ana noticed that Draco hardly talked to her. It made her sad to remember how excited her little brother was last year about coming to Hogwarts; he always talked about doing things together and that had yet to happen.

The four of them bumbled towards the group, which made Aeron and Alex turn to them defensively, their chests puffed out as if they were anticipating some sort of confrontation. Flint focused on the two of them with a sneer that making Ana sit up tiredly: holding her blanket up to her for comfort.

Draco was at the front of the pack which confused Ana, she assumed that Flint would be doing the talking for all of them given he was two years short of graduating.

"When are you going to bed?" the little blond boy asked in a tone that didn't sound like him; it came out far more pompous than ever before. Ana was confused at the sound and the question. He had never cared about the time at which she went to sleep, most times he fell asleep before she did.

"Uh, I'm not sure, whenever I'm tired," she answered kindly, trying to keep the mood light like they usually were when she talked to her brother. "Why do you ask?"

Crabbe and Goyle snickered behind Draco while Flint smirked grotesquely at the group; Ana's face fell at their odd behaviors. At this point all five of them had the entirety of their focus on the four newcomers.

Draco smirked at his older sister, looking almost too sweet. "No reason. Just thought you looked tired."

That was a lie. It was a flat out lie. This was not like Draco. Usually, Ana would stumble upon her brother drooling on his pillow rather early in the night. When he was done for the night he would ignore everyone and pass out. Her stomach twisted at the persona her brother was putting on. He wasn't himself. He was acting like their father, which terrified her.

"She looks tired because that's what happens when you spend your whole morning trying out for the Quidditch team," Alex's statement came out with a bit of acidity to it, her body situated between the boys and the rest of the group.

"I know, I was watching, Bole," Draco quipped back sharply, which alarmed Ana.

The soft and cushy couch was abandoned once he replied to her friend like that; Ana stood up and pulled Draco away from the boys who glared at her scathingly. Thankfully, Draco didn't dismiss Ana, allowing her to take him by the elbow and away from any curious ears.

"Draco are you okay?"

"Of course I am. What would make you think something's wrong?"

Once again, he sounded like he was trying to be convincing, unfortunately for the young boy he was horrible at lying to her. He over-performed everything he did, which made his lying so blaringly obvious to the girl. She figured if he was going to lie to anyone, he would have to get better at it.

"Come on, you know that I can tell when you are off. What's going on?"

Draco was going to comment something until Alex had begun shouting at Flint; she jumped up from the couch and had the Quidditch captain's collar firmly in her grasp. It all happened in the blink of an eye; Lucian was trying to pull his sister off the oldest boy. Meanwhile, Aeron was rubbing at Calista's shoulder softly as he yelled at Crabbe and Goyle with unparalleled wrath.

Before Ana could do anything, Draco darted away from his sister and ran up the stairs into the boy's dorms. She groaned at the boy's getaway and ran over to the fighting group to try and break it up. Lucian had finally gotten Alex off Flint who, after a day of throwing up on the Quidditch pitch, now had a giant scratch down his face that was bleeding. Ana knew she should feel bad for the boy's pain, but she didn't. There was no room in her chest for any sympathy towards Flint.

As soon as Ana rejoined the group, Crabbe, Goyle, and Flint ran around the girl to follow in Draco's steps, leaving them all confused and angry. But unfortunately they left one of them in tears.

"What the in the world just happened?" Ana cried as she surveyed the damage.

Alex's face was scarlet red, still huffing and puffing from attacking the Quidditch captain. In her steady arms was Calista who was quietly sobbing, her shoulders trembled as a new wave of tears escaped. Aeron and Lucian's complexions matched Alex's; they were splotchy red with anger and adrenaline, which was the total opposite of the weeping girl.

When no one answered her question, Ana decided she'd try her luck with just talking to the beater.

Lucian sat down, watching Ana as she wrapped the blanket she was just using around Calista. He gloomily smiled at her small act of kindness and looked up at her with sadness in his eyes.

"They called Calista, something horrible," he mumbled, looking disgusted as he spoke. He didn't want Calista to hear him so he lowered his voice even more, "They called her something you should never call a muggle born." Lucian's eyebrows rose, hoping Ana could insinuate what he was trying to hint at.

Her once shivering body now filled with a simmering fire, Ana's face grew stiff and serious at the admission. She now understood why Alex was so angry.

As a child, her father said the term all the time and her mother would always remind her that it was not something she was to repeat. It was vile and cruel, even for a pureblood wizard to say. That knowledge made her only despise her brother's friends even more. They reminded her of the one person she hated returning to in the summer months.

Seeing their effect on her muggle born friend made her sick. And yet, she knew that Draco wasn't planning on getting rid of them anytime soon.

#fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x oc #bibiana malfoy #the girl who vanished #tgwv #tgwv 1-22 #enemies to friends to lovers

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rendezvousrenjun · 5 years

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ring ring rejection | two

img // au masterlist // prev // next // ✰ pairing : highschool!renjun x reader (+ dreamies + best friend!mark) ✰ genre : very light angst + fluff ✰ word count : 2.5k

Okay walking into class with sunglasses was really dumb. Sitting in the shower crying this morning was also really dumb. But forgetting to tell Mark what happened last night was the dumbest mistake of all.

You woke up with a throbbing headache and dried up tears in the crevices of your eyes. Tuesdays were always worse than Mondays because now there wasn’t any excuse to slack-off or complain about the start of the week. You just wanted to take it easy today to push away all the worries that held you captive.

During lunch you decided to sit at the secluded area with the broken table and chairs. You thought that maybe you could find peace by being alone, but sometimes you forget that Mark knows you better than yourself. Sipping on your peach calpico, you see him emerge from the English department building.

“Oiioioioioioi” his voice gets louder and you instinctively look down and cross your legs as a subconscious form of defense as you see Mark’s shadow tower over you. You end up looking up to catch a glance and immediately shoot your head down when you see Mark’s smile grow even more. “AHAHAHAHAHHA what are those????????” “I just wanted to be cooler today” you say as you take another sip of calpico and try to shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. Mark grabs the calpico out of your hand and you don't even resist. He nods his head at you as if asking permission, but the bottle was already touching his bottom lip. You nod half heartedly and he chugs the whole drink down. “Ya-” you reach over to get the bottle, a weak attempt of saving the last bitty drop for yourself, but Mark pulls off your sunglasses as you lean towards him.

“Yo these are so big-” his eyes transition from the obnoxiously large glasses in his hands to your tired face, “hey what happened” his cheeks deflate from his teasing smile and he lowers his hands to place the glasses on the table between you two, you don’t say much, afraid of choking up again, but you glance at him though your eyelashes and mumble out “renjun”.

And Mark confirms yet again that he knows you better than yourself sometimes. He places your sunglasses back on your face, and recycles the calpico on the way to dragging you to the boy’s bathroom.

“Hol up hold up Mark what if someone’s in there???” he ignores you and walks straight in just to be greeted with the sound of piss hitting the ceramic toilet. “Hey Mark-oMGONG MARK WHYD U BRING Y/N TO THE BOY’S BATHROoM omGg ya-” Haechan hurriedly tries to protect whatever was left of him from your eyes and turns his whole body away from the door.

“ahhH MARK DUDE whAT THE FU-” you slam your hands against your sunglasses to salvage whatever purity you had left (although not much). “Haechan is there anyone else in the bathroom?” Mark asks while Haechan fumbles to zip up his pants and makes his embarrassed walk of shame to the sink. “Not that I know of-” Mark is already making his way to lock the public restroom which you were pretty sure you weren't supposed to do, but you didn’t question it.

“y/n what are the sunglasses for?” Haechan leans against the sink fanning his hands out in the air sporadically instead of just blow drying them, some droplets flying on top of your lenses.

“y/n take off your sunglasses” Mark makes his way back to the sink and starts running the water. “Why?” “Just trust me.” You hand over your glasses to Haechan who immediately sees your teary eyes and makes a whiny noise to showcase his odd way of showing concern. He starts clinging onto you; playing with your ears and poking your shoulders. Mark asks you to keep still so he can pat your face with cold water and rough paper towels. About five minutes of patting under your swollen eye bags later, Haechan suggests applying some makeup to cover up the redness. To your surprise, Haechan brings out his own little pouch and asks to borrow yours so he could work his magic. He boasts about doing his mom and sister’s makeup sometimes, his favorite look being this gold smokey one. You and Mark simply giggle at Haechan’s boisterousness.

You learned that Haechan wasn’t bluffing and now you know who you were gonna call up next special occasion. Amidst Haechan concentrating on your face the bell rings and all of you turn into surprised pikachus. “Shoot,,, I think we missed fifth period my dudes” “Big bruh moment right here” “I’m nervous” you interject, eyes shooting down yet again. “Hey y/n we may have covered your worries on the outside but it’s really up to you if you still want to push through with lying- you could always tell him the truth-” “I don’t want to soil something that wasn’t even there to begin with Haechan.”

Haechan just silently starts kneading your shoulders as the three of you make your way out to class. You were glad you and Mark got to class before Renjun, slickly going to the very back where your seats were located. The moment Renjun walks in you accidentally slam your head against your desk out of pure impulse as a way to hide like a complete and utter idiot. Renjun taps the mole on his hand anxiously when he looks over at you. He doesn't know why this whole situation makes him a bit bashful, but before he sits in his seat he clears his throat. “Hellooo” you hear his voice crack and pop your head back up to look at him through your specs. “Heyyy renjuuun” Renjun’s grin grows on his face and low chuckles come out when he sees the bulky glasses on your face. He slides down to his seat, and you see Jaemin come in right after, ruffling Renjun’s hair. Renjun playfully springs back up to make a fist and acts like he’s about to punch him, but he spins around back to you as if he cut himself off with his own thoughts. “OH” he claps his hands together and his eyes go from crescents to half moons. “I forgot to tell you before I meet you at the cafe I have to help out someone real quick is that okay?” “Oh really..? That’s okay.. So I don’t wait for you by the gate?” “No you don't have to- also -- wait it’s NEOcafe right?” “Renjun what other cafes are around here?” He smiles again cheekily and bobs his head as he lowers back down in his seat, the teacher turning on the projector to finally start class.

Your thoughts were muddled together on your lonesome walk to the cafe. Mark offered to walk you there but you genuinely wanted to think over how this situation will play out. If it gets too awkward how are you going to bail? How would you react if he bailed out first? One foot over the other, the next thought comes after the other.

By the time you step foot in the cafe your feet continue to make a beeline headed to the restroom. You think back to how many times you’ve been in a restroom today, spraying perfume on and looking at the freshly wiped down mirror. Now that you thought about it, your speculations was like a spritz of perfume; the moment you put it out there it has already started to fade. Maybe your thoughts on confessing were never meant to exist.

NO! You are a bad bitch don’t take back wanting to feel this way! What’s said is said and that’s on periodT.

You fling the restroom door open with this new surge of confidence. That’s right. You think to yourself, if my feelings are going to be buried in a ditch, I’ll bury them in style.

Renjun is easy to spot wherever he is. Even if he was at the very corner booth of the cafe scrolling through his phone it was like your gaze constantly gravitated his direction. He looks up after chewing on his bottom lip and meets your eyes for the first time today without your sunglasses on. Why was it every time you see his teeth peeking out of his shy smile the wind knocks out of you and reappears as soft warm tickles that clumsily graze your insides? Did you really have it that bad?

“Are you thirsty?? Lets order drinks first” he says as you take your seat across from him. He pulls out his cracked phone screen and shows you the yelp reviews and menu and suggests the jasmine milk tea, or the hokkaido special. You like the way his fingers scroll through, leaving thumb prints here and there, or the way his mouth stays a little open when he’s fascinated by the mango blast.

When you're about to get up to order Renjun holds your wrist back and makes you sit back down. You feel the area he held onto heat up as he stands up in your stead. “I’ll pay don't worry” and before you could insist otherwise, he has already made his way to the cashier. He pulls out his phone mid-order in a haste and you wonder what’s so urgent; to your surprise your phone rings with his caller-id.

“Renjun..?” “y/n sorry but I forgot what you wanted, what was it again?” He turns to look at you with those gleaming crescent eyes again and you try to suppress the growing urge to say you.

When he places your drinks back on the wooden table you poke at him teasingly, “see this is why I thought you liked me heheh” “What do you meEAAAAan” “youre just so niCEEeee… sometimes” “YA-” He cuts himself off with a chuckle so sweet, sweeter than the drink you were sipping on, and it makes your heart do crazy lil kicks and flips. “Why else did you think I liked you??” “Well for starters the fact you turn around to doodle on my paper sometimes… or when you laugh at my jokes, or look at me and hear me out when Mark and Jaemin are too busy yelling at each other in class…” “But I’m a gentleman! It’s not my fault my parents raised me to be this chivalrous!” “WeLL U KNOW WHaT RENJUN I don't like you!!! key word: DONT.. D . O. N. T. donT“

Renjun genuinely laughs for the first time this whole day. He didn’t remember you being so funny. He likes the way you laugh back, reassuring him that this situation never had to be awkward to begin with.

“I don’t like you either key WORD: I.!!!” He shouts in between laughs, “actually I forgot to ask earlier but did you put on eye makeup??”

Shit shit shit he’s on to you y/n

“Oh yea Haechan did it for me” “Ohhh... pretty cool” he acknowledges Haechan’s talent and leans over the table to examine your eyes. This may have been the closest you’ve ever seen his face. Your heartbeat gets a little faster the more you adore his features in silence. His eyes flicker from your eyelids to your pupils, and the eye contact makes your heart drop to your ass.

You could tell time was passing by with the way the sunset seemed to glow a stronger orange, or the way customers left and came with each passing hour. But you nor Renjun seemed to acknowledge it in between conversations about how he loves how the stars look outside his grandmother’s backyard or how Mark once hit you with a baseball bat when you guys were ten. The more you spoke the Renjun the more your nerves were replaced by comforting giggles, and the more you realize how much you panicked for nothing. This idea of him you had in your head was replaced by this real person, who had his own remorseful doubts and insecurities, his own ambitions and goals, and other people he seemed to admire.

“I feel like I’ve known you for forever” “Why did it take so long for us to get closer”

These words reinforced your little world with Renjun. This comfortable bubble you two seemed to float in and forget about things like homework.

But just like any other bubble, this one had to pop.

“Hey do you like anyone.. Like actually?” This sudden question from Renjun threw you off. “I don't know renjun.. Do I??” You feel your cheeks heat up and you fumble with your empty cup. “Well.. do you??” “Well….. dependssss…. DO YOUUUU??” “Mmmm perhaps” he hums while watching you tap around the edge of the cup.

Perhaps?

“I’ll only tell you because you are part of my secret cult now and I oddly trust you?” “Oddly? How DARE yoU” you try to stop yourself from getting flustered over the fact that Renjun trusts you now. “Well injunie.. who is it?”

He motions for you to lean over with his hand and cups your ear in both his hands. You could feel your ears heat up as he whispers lowly into them. “Yoo..”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you feel your face change into an even darker shade of red.

“juNg”

Oh.

“I like Yoojung.” He retreats back into the booth and looks at you with those lustrous eyes of his again. “In fact, that's why I was kinda late today I wanted to help her with her books..” He obtains the shade of pink you had on previously and bites down on his lip as he smiles at you goofily and almost innocent-like.

“That’s…...pretty cool” you are able to choke up, trying not to give yourself away by saying more or risking the possibility of Renjun picking up how you felt.

“Oh it’s already 8?!?” Renjun nervously laughs as a way to change the subject, “we should probably go, is your house far from here? I’ll walk you home!”

You knew you probably should’ve said no to your rejector walking you home, but Renjun became more than just someone who rejected you today. Even just as a person, you enjoyed his company. So you allowed the word “sure” to slip out of your mouth and a warm smile to seep through which he happily reciprocated.

This is okay. I like being Huang Renjun’s friend.

And you did. Truly, you did. You enjoyed when Renjun hit your shoulder with his on the sidewalk, or when he shined the flash on his phone on you as a way to brighten the pathway from the darkness. You wished the walk home was longer, but your house revealed itself in what felt like only a second.

“Hey y/n...I’m sorry I was suspicious and was so defensive the other night on the phone. I shouldn't have taken your kindness in the wrong way, now I regret to have not taken the initiative to get to know you better sooner.”

But you were right.

“No no no” you apologetically laugh, “I thought the same no worries.”

Your response seemed to relax Renjun, the stars in his eyes contrasting with the night sky. “Not to be weird or anything but from now on just ring me up whenever you want, I’m glad you’re in my life now”

This moment is fleeting. This moment is bittersweet.

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goodbyecringe · 4 years

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(Un)Natural Selection Chapter 8

Éponine

As soon as I felt myself falling asleep I could feel Elise jostling my shoulder to try to wake me up. I had no desire to leave the bed even if it meant not getting to meet with Prince Julien.

“But Lady Éponine, all of the other ladies have been awake for half an hour,” she said with her large eyes.

The panic that went through my heart made me jump out of the bed and run into the bathroom hyperventilating.

“Lady Éponine, you’re allowed to sleep in because your routine is far less complicated than the other girls,” Miriam laughed, opening the doors to my large closet.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked as she pulled me inside of the closet.

“Some of the other ladies have a hair and makeup routine that takes 3 hours while you should only take an hour and a half at the latest,” she said, pulling dresses.

She seemed to be in a significantly better mood this morning. I could see Laila pulling out brushes and combs at the vanity while Elise began to make my bed. It seemed that they worked as a well oiled machine. Miriam was the captain because of her seniority while Elise appeared to be the youngest and responsible for doing the more mundane tasks.

“Which dress would you prefer to wear, Lady Éponine?”

In her hands were two of the most spectacular and extravagant dresses I had seen in my entire life. There was a deep maroon dress that appeared to fall off the shoulder with a thick satin skirt and a sleeveless, tight-fitted grey dress that seemed to glimmer in the sunlight.

“We decided to base your wardrobe on Earth tones. Most of the other girls will be going for light or deep colors to make individual statements, but no one has a neutral wardrobe. Neutral doesn’t have to mean boring if done correctly,” she smiled, obviously very proud of herself.

In the end I decided on a green dress that was tucked away behind the dozen dresses that I had. I could see the disdain in Miriam’s face when I pulled it down and I could understand why. The dress was some shade of dark green with a full, but not overly large skirt. The top half covered my shoulders and collarbone and even though it was the simplest dress in my closet, it was the nicest thing I had ever worn. Laila braided my hair into a loose and thick bun that was held up by several dozen pins. Finally, under the watchful eye of Miriam, Elise did my makeup. She narrated what she was putting on my face and what it would do for my appearance.

“This toner has a natural papaya exfoliant that will help to brighten your complexion,” she sang as she spritzed a clear liquid onto my face.

“What’s papaya?” I asked as she picked up one of the many bottles on the vanity.

“It’s a fruit. Don’t they have them in Allens?”

“Probably, my family can only usually only afford rice, beans, bread and pasta,” I said shrugging.

“Well I’m sure the palace could get as many papayas as you could eat if you got the Prince to ask,” she giggled.

When my makeup was finished I stood up and looked in the mirror and in the end, I still looked like me. A much better version of the me that entered the palace not even 24 hours ago, but that was aside from the point. Justine and I both agreed that I didn’t want to make it look like I was trying too hard or I would quickly become the least favorite inside and outside of the castle. Before leaving my room, Miriam had me choose my jewelry for the day. There was a golden headband that emulated flowers, a large pair of earrings, golden bands, and several large necklaces.

“You can wear these as statement pieces to perk up your dress,” she said, motioning towards the larger items.

After a heavy scolding, Miriam let me settle for the necklace Justine gave me, a pair of small golden stud earrings, and a gold bracelet. She then laid out a pair of heels covered in rhinestones. The shoes were significantly more comfortable than the ones that I wore last night and the heel was noticeably shorter. Deciding to forgo any form of conflict with Miriam this morning, I put them on gladly. Ten minutes until 8 I was out in the hallway making conversation with Cosette who radiated royalty. She wore an off the shoulder baby blue gown with a layered pearl necklace.

As I looked around the growing group of girls I realized that Miriam had been right when she said everyone would be going for either bright pastels or bold colors. Musichetta Simon came out of her room in what looked to be a plain white wedding dress that glittered when it caught the Sun. Her stylist team had given her at least a foot of red hair extensions that now past her waist. I found myself unable to take my eyes off of her until Claudia came to bring us downstairs.

“Ladies, you all look like you could be princesses this morning,” she said with a frown on her face. It wasn’t hard to tell that she was very upset.

“I would like to point out that only thirty-four of you are joining the Royal Family for breakfast. After supper last night, Miss Lucy decided to neglect the rules and sought out Prince Julien.”

Gasps and whispers immediately overtook the hall. Cosette and I looked at each other and I worried that she was about to cry. Lucy had been one of three Fives selected.

“Please settle down, ladies. Prince Julien had her immediately disqualified from the selection and she was sent home last night. I hope this serves as a lesson to all of you that we take the rules very seriously.”

As she led us downstairs to the Great Hall many girls were giving their opinion on the Lucy situation. Teresa claimed it was a good thing that “the help” had left before the competition even started because it would be shameful for Prince Julien to marry anyone lower than a Three. I looked around the group to see if the other Fives had reacted to what she had said but they were all deep in conversation with other girls. Liberty Cook, a Three that was wheelchair bound from a boating accident when she was younger, said that she had heard the Guards whispering that Lucy claimed to have been tricked by another girl.

I tried to imagine who would already be trying to sabotage the competition this early but the thoughts were immediately pushed out of my head upon entering the Great Hall. There was a small camera crew in the corner waiting to film our first interactions with Prince Julien. We were free to sit wherever we liked, probably because we would be in our seats for a bit. Cosette sat behind me and I decided to sit next to one of the Fives, Alyssa. She smiled and adjusted her large purple skirt.

“Have you ever eaten at a table with so many forks and knives?” She laughed.

“I can definitely say that I’ve never even seen this many forks on a table,” I said looking around for a sign of food.

“Ladies, this morning we will begin our first etiquette lesson. Someone in this room is going to become a princess and she must be able to meet the royal standards for manners. Now, please unfold your napkin and place it on your lap,” Claudia said holding up a cloth napkin and folding it in the air as a guide.

This etiquette lesson was harder than learning any language combined. Periodically Claudia would circle around to Alyssa and me to tell us to straighten our backs and lift our chins. Once I turned around to how Cosette looked and I was immediately intimidated. She handled everything with a grace and ease that made her an obviously strong competitor and a dangerous enemy. If Cosette made her approval of me known then maybe that would allow the Threes and Fours to accept me. Just as I felt my stomach begin to demand food the doors opened to reveal several guards and Prince Julien in tow.

Every girl held her breath and straightened her back when they saw him.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Claudia said, entering a deep curtsey. He responded in a curt head nod.

“Good morning Claudia and good morning ladies,” he said clasping his hands together in front of him.

“If you don’t mind Claudia I would like to address the women of the Selection for a moment before we proceed,” Claudia took a few steps to the left of the room.

“Ladies, I am eagerly awaiting the chance to interact with you all but first I would like to make several brief points. For starters this is not a well fact but I prefer to be addressed by my surname as Claudia can verify it is a certain formality that I practice. Secondly, as I said on the Report I want this to be a caste-blind Selection so please do not reveal yours or another lady’s caste. If you break this rule there is a strong possibility that your time here at the palace will end,” a hushed whisper fell across the room.

Claudia took a step forward and cleared her throat, immediately silencing any noise.

“Now, I will be speaking with all of you one-by-one in private. I’ll try to keep this as brief as possible as I’m sure you’re all anticipating breakfast more than speaking with me,” he joked, walking towards Liberty inviting her over to a few couches in the corner of the room.

“What are we supposed to talk about?” Alyssa said, panic covering her face.

“I’m sure he’ll ask us about how we’re liking the palace so far and let the conversation go from there,” I guessed as Cosette turned around to whisper with us.

We all talked about our rooms, our maids, and our clothes until Enjolras approached Cosette. He met my eyes and to my continuous surprise, smiled at me.

“If the Lady Éponine would permit, may I please borrow Lady Cosette for a few minutes?” He asked.

I tried not to let my jaw hit the floor.

“Luckily for you, Your Highness, the Lady Éponine will permit it,” I said, straightening my back.

He took Cosette’s arm and turned towards the couches and Alyssa hit my arm.

“What was that about?” she demanded, looking visibly hurt.

“I- I don’t know, it was probably just some joke he made because we were all talking,” I stammered, not daring to tell her about our brief encounter.

“Sure,” she said staring at Enjolras and Cosette interacting.

While we watched Cosette smile with her large eyes the camera crew approached the two of us. Alyssa quickly recovered from any distress she may have been experiencing before their presence. They asked us how we were enjoying the palace and Alyssa talked about all the beautiful pieces of art since she herself was a painter. The only thing I could think of was the food, since I couldn’t remember the last time I had a meal like last night.

When Cosette returned from her conversation with Enjolras she looked like she had won the lottery.

“What did you talk about?” Alyssa asked.

“Well we started talking about how beautiful the palace was and we talked about home and how I missed our garden, and he asked me if I’d like to tour the garden before dinner this evening,” she whispered.

Before I could think about congratulating her, I could see a mass of blonde curly hair approaching me and I stood to approach him. I remembered Justine’s advice in the back of my head and after meeting all the girls, I realized how right she was. All of these girls would start with the same strategy, immediately planning on making Enjolras fall in love with them.

“The strongest love happens when you least expect it. I married my best friend,” I remembered her saying as she looked at Victor.

Enjolras held out his arm as we walked towards the couches.

“In case you need help walking in those heels,” he offered.

“Thank you but I am in much more sensible shoes now,” I declined, holding up the skirt of my dress so he could see my short heels.

“I’m surprised you’re not barefoot after your run last night,” he whispered as we sat down.

“I would have come in my slippers but my maids would have thrown a fit,” I laughed.

“How are you getting along with them?” He asked leaning back in his seat.

I hadn’t seen him do that with another girl. Was he comfortable with me because he’d already spoken to me? Or was he comfortable because he had already decided to kick me out?

“Let’s just say that if it weren’t for them I would be sitting here in a nice dress without any makeup and my hair a mess.”

“Good, that’s why we keep them around,” he said absentmindedly. He must have seen my reaction because he quickly scrambled to make up for what he had just said.

“Not that that’s the only reason why we keep them around. Many of our servants have families that they need to support and we have a respectably low turnover rate as our average servant works here for upwards of ten years,” he began to ramble.

“I understand, that’s just how the caste system works. It was just like this in the Old Middle East and many people accepted it,” I said looking at my hands.

“How do you know about that?” Enjolras asked sitting up.

“I’ve read some books on how different religions have affected the structure and function of the government.”

“Well you must know that my views on the caste system do not reflect the current state of Illeá. I’m sure you know that I have invited a group of anti-caste sympathizers to stay in the palace.”

“The Friends of the ABC?”

“Yes, after dinner this evening we’ll be holding a meeting in the Men’s Room. If this is something you’re interested in you are more than welcome to join us,”

“Do you ask every girl to join in your political escapades?”

“No, I’m afraid most girls prefer walks around the garden and bowling.”

The way he said it made it sound like he wasn’t looking forward to his date with Cosette.

“Well everyone came to become your wife, not your political alley. They probably aren’t thinking of the responsibilities of an entire country, they’re just thinking about how they can win over one boy. ”

“You’ve turned out quite different then what I expected Lady Éponine,” he said, writing something on a notepad.

“And what did you expect of me?” I asked as a butler leaned over to whisper something to Enjolras.

“Terribly sorry, but it appears we’ve gone quite a bit over our allotted time,” he said standing to button his maroon waistcoat.

“Will you be answering my question?” I asked, standing.

“Will you be coming to the meeting tonight?” He asked, his face serious.

“I haven’t found a reason not to yet,” I said, locking as with him as I curtsied.

“Then all of your questions will be answered tonight,” he bowed.

As I walked back to my seat I could feel the eyes of the other Selected girls staring at me. I tried to focus solely on Cosette’s beaming face, excited to hear why our conversation ran so long. Alyssa walked past me, not even waiting for Enjolras to approach her. I could see her shake as she curtseyed to him before she sat down on the edge of the couch.

“Well? What did you talk about?” Cosette asked eagerly.

I don’t know what but I felt very compelled to lie to her even though she had been so kind to me. Maybe she secretly remembered me and was waiting until she could use something against me in the competition.

“Oh we just talked about movies and how I’ve never been to a movie theatre. He thought that it was a crime and demanded that we watch a movie together after dinner,” I laughed, realizing that I was shaking.

“Look at us,” Cosette whispered, “we got the first two dates! Oh you must help me pick out the perfect dress for tonight!”

I let Cosette talk about dresses and hair until the last girls had finished their conversations with Enjolras. Alyssa came back beaming, but wouldn’t elaborate on any details. She probably didn’t trust either of us either. Finally, when I had begun to hallucinate the smell of a warm breakfast, Enjolras went to the front of the room.

“Ladies thank you for your patience! Please proceed to the Banquet Room and enjoy your breakfast. If I asked you to stay behind, please remain seated.”

I looked around at the girls that were still sitting and noted that Alyssa was one of them. Maybe it was some special group date with Enjolras during lunch. He did seem pretty eager to make himself busy with us. When we transitioned to the Banquet Room we were greeted by the King and Queen who were reading the morning paper with their coffee. We collectively curtseyed, sat at our assigned seats, and waited for Enjolras to come back.

We stood to curtsey and sat back in our seats, presumably waiting for the other girls to join us. We all waited in silence until the Butlers began to pour orange juice into our glasses.

“He must have sent them home,” Musichetta exclaimed from across the table.

While Cosette looked around the room to count I stared at Enjolras. He was rushing to lather a piece of toast in jam, and appeared unbothered by his elimination.

“There’s twenty-six of us, he sent home eight girls,” Cosette whispered.

#enjonine #enjolras #prince enjolras #eponine #cosette #musichetta #les miserables #les amis #the selection #fanfiction #crossover #cross-posted #ao3 #modern universe

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wakandaforeverwrites · 5 years

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Learn Ya || Chapter 7

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Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Author Notes: There are a lot of words here like this is probably the longest chapter I’ve written for this fic thus far. I’m talking 6k+ words just for this chapter so it’s under the cut for obvious reasons. I told y’all I had some Daddy!Challa coming. So strap on in and secure your wigs. ALSO IT TOOK ME ALL DAMN DAY TO WRITE THIS SO Y’ALL BETTER LIKE IT

This was such a bad idea. Amaya didn’t know what she had been thinking when she thought it would be a good idea to cook dinner for T’Challa at her apartment. It sounded like a good idea when she convinced him to come over. He was a damn king and she had invited him to her tiny ass apartment that she shared with Charlie. There was a small part of her that was a little embarrassed, but there was no time to back out now. She had no choice but to make the best out of this less than ideal situation.

She pulled out her best wig and allowed Charlie to do her usual slay, making sure that she looked even better than the last time T’Challa saw her. She struggled with her outfit for far longer than she needed too, finally deciding to dress in a pair of black shorts since she knew that he enjoyed her legs so much and a yellow crop top. This was the first time he was going to be seeing in her person in weeks and she wanted to make sure that she looked damn good.

She wanted to make sure that everything was perfect and that was why she called up her grandma all the way in Florida at the ass crack of dawn to get her recipe for meatloaf. It wasn’t just any basic bland old meatloaf. It was the exact one that her grandmother had made for her granddad just months before he proposed. Let the old man tell it, he knew he was in love during that very same dinner and that had been over 50 years ago, and the old couple were still very much in love with each other. So as far as Amaya was concerned, whatever was in the recipe was magic

Flicking on the oven light, Amaya checked on the dish even if she hadn’t placed it inside the oven but five minutes ago. She was being a little obsessive she knew that much but she wanted to make sure that nothing went wrong. There was nothing worse than inviting someone over for dinner and then serving them that very same dinner burnt to a crisp.

The knock at the door has Amaya jolting to her feet. It was a soft tap of knuckles against the wood but it sent her heart pounding in her chest because of who she knew was standing on the other side of it. She raced to her bedroom, nearly tripping over her feet on her way there, and spritzed a little perfume on the sides of her neck, checking herself out in the mirror for a few seconds before deciding to add a little gloss to her lips and trying to fluff up the curls in her hair.

There was another knock, this time a little louder and harder than before, and Amaya had to take a deep breath before she walked out of her bedroom to answer the door. Taking another deep breath, she answered the door, and the air she had just filled her lungs with immediately escaped her at the sight T’Challa standing in her doorway. He was dressed in his usual all black attire but it was far more casual than the suits she had seen him in, and a little more Americanized. A simple pair of black jeans and a form fitting black shirt with a matte black bomber jacket to top it all off.

It just wasn’t fair that he could make something so simple look so good. There was no way this man could even be real and about to step foot into her apartment.

“You’re a little early.” Her words came out a little more clipped than she would have liked thanks to her nerves. She chewed on her bottom lip when he lifted a brow towards her.

The corners of his mouth quirked a little as if he were holding back a smile. “If I didn’t know any better I would think that you didn’t miss me, Amaya.”

“I didn’t say that….”

“Ah, so you did miss me. You have quite the interesting way of showing it.” The teasing nature of his words had her holding back a smile as she rolled her eyes. “Are you going to invite me in or will we be having dinner out here in the hallway?”

Amaya took a step back so that he could walk inside and suddenly her apartment felt so much smaller with him standing in her living room. She watched as he looked around the small room, from the love seat that Charlie’s mom had been so gracious to gift to them when they first moved in to the television that was mounted on the wall. T’Challa seemed to be taking it all in for a moment before he turned around and looked to her.

“Do you live here alone?”

Amaya shook her head. “Nope. I have a roommate. Charlie. The girl you conned my number out of.”

“I conned her out of your number?” He placed a hand on his chest and had the audacity to look offended.

“That’s exactly what I said. Don’t think she didn’t tell me all about how charming you were so you could get my number. You knew exactly what you were doing. Probably flashed that smile of yours and it was a wrap from there. You’re not slick.”

“I can not believe I am being accused of such a thing. I have never used my smile to get what I want.”

“Never?”

“Not once in my life.” The smile in question started to take over his lips as she placed her hands on her hips.

“That sounds like a lie if I’ve ever heard one and I just wanna let you know that I don’t believe you.” She threw back at him as she shook her head a little. “Do you drink wine?”

“I do.” There was a bit of confusion that passed over his face.

“Good hold that thought please.” She held up one finger before disappearing into the kitchen.

She grabbed the bottle of wine from the fridge that she and Charlie had been saving for a special occasion--she didn’t see an occasion that would get any more special than this. She grabbed two wine glasses from the cabinet before filling them both half way. With both glasses in hand, she walked back out to the living room to find T’Challa standing front of the the few bookcases that were able to fit in the living room.

“Finding anything interesting?” He looked over his shoulder before turning to face her completely and taking the glass she was handing over to him.

“Have read all of these?” She was distracted for a second by the way his hand gripped the glass and she found herself watching his fingers drum against the side, reveling in how thick they were.

She cleared her throat, trying to push all of those thoughts out of her head. “Yeah, I was a big reader as a kid. If you’ve ever seen the movie Matilda, I was a lot like that growing up.”

“Cannot say that I have seen that movie before, but I will take your word for it,” he took a slow sip of the win as his eyes wandered the shelves of her bookcases before he stopped. “And have you read these three?”

Amaya squinted her eyes as she read the titles. Fifty Shades of Grey. Fifty Shades Darker. Fifty Shades Free. She nearly choked on her wine. She could have sworn that she had gotten rid of those books when she realized just how terrible they were.

“That’s a funny story actually. I remember when it came out and I was looking for a mother’s day present for my mom and some magazine recommended that it was a good present so I ordered the whole series online, right? Then I read the first book and was like there’s no way I can give this book to my mom…..so I kept them for myself and read them all.” She did her best to hide her embarrassment behind her wine glass, taking a large gulp of the bittersweet liquid.

“You kept them for yourself?”

“Listen, don’t you judge me. I was all of 14 and thinking this was the best thing I had ever read but I broadened my horizons and realized that this was not a great depiction of a healthy BDSM relationship and it was terribly written, but I will credit it to opening my eyes to a lot of things.”

There was something flickering in his eyes as he looked at her, something that she couldn’t exactly place her finger on, but she knew that she liked it. “No one is judging you, Amaya. The shift in the air between the two of them was so subtle that she almost didn’t realize it. “And what exactly were your eyes opened up to?”

“The kind of relationship that I do want and the kind that I don’t want.” She shrugged her shoulders and finished off what was left of her wine.

“I get this feeling that you give vague answers on purpose.” T’Challa licked his lips slowly and Amaya had to take a deep breath to calm herself.

“And so what if I do? What are you gonna do about it?” She knew very well that she was playing fire, and she was more than willing to get herself burned in the process if it meant she got what she wanted.

His only response was a small smirk before he turned back to the bookshelves. Feeling a little bolder, Amaya placed her empty glass down and moved herself between him and the shelves, forcing him to look at her. With the small distance that had been between him and the shelves, there was an even smaller distance between her body and his.

“You should know something about me, Sir…” her fingers toyed with the collar of his jacket, dangerously close to his neck. “I don’t like being ignored.”

His arm disappeared above her head and she heard the soft clink of the glass being placed down, but he eyes never left her face. Normally, the longer he stared at her, the more her bold nature would start to fade, but that was the furthest thing from the case. The wine mixing with how long it had been since she had seen him, there was no backing down as far as she was concerned.

“Is that so?” His hand wrapped around one of her wrists, holding it down by his side before yanking her forward quickly and without warning. Her body went crashing forward and closed the distance between the two of them.

Staring straight ahead of her she could only see just the barest amount of his chin and she craned her neck back a little to look him in the eye. Shivers worked down her spine as his thumb brushed against her bare thigh, tracing small circles that she could feel radiating through every part of her body with one part in particular. His other hand grabbed her other wrist and before she realized what was happening, both of her hands were pinned behind her back. The trapped feeling that washed over her body sent her heart racing, but she didn’t fight against it. There was a large part of her that embraced it, wanting to have more of it and wondering how she would feel if he had her exactly like this, but naked in her bed.

“That is exactly so.” If he could hear the want in her voice, he wasn’t acknowledging it which was only serving to frustrate her even more.

His grip tightened around her wrists, forcing her arms further behind her back and pulling a soft gasp from between her lips that borderlined on a moan.

“Well now you have my attention. What are you going to do with it?” She was unable to ignore the challenge that laced in his tone and the sharp edge in his voice. Maybe she had lit a fire that she hadn’t quite anticipated burning like this.

“What do you think I should do with it? Because I can think of a few things that I can do with it.” There was a voice in the back of her head that was telling her that she needed to chill out, but she was never one to listen to that voice anyway so why start now?

“I have had a few thoughts of my own now that you mention it. And I do recall that you said something about how you wanted to get into trouble.” His lips were dangerously close and she was dying to have him close the distance. She was seconds away from begging for it if she needed to.

Amaya opened her mouth to answer but she was cut off by the oven timer going off, signaling that the meatloaf was ready to be taken out. “You’ll never know now. Dinner is done.” She went to wiggle free from his grasp but it only resulted in him holder her even tighter, delicious pricks of pain coursing through her shoulder blades that had her chew on the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning out loud.

“You cannot keep using food to run away from me.” Her eyes were trained on his tongue, watching as it peeked out from between his full lips and moved across the bottom one, stealing every bit of her attention for a few seconds.

Just fucking kiss me.

The words were on the tip of her tongue but she held them back. Instead she chose to smile in response.

“If you would like to starve instead of eating the delicious dinner I made then be my guest, but do you know how hard it is to get the smell of burnt meat out of an apartment?” She lifted her brows.

T’Challa made a sound in the back of his throat as if he were thinking and there was a moment of silence before he finally released her wrists. She was both grateful and a little disappointed when he did. She grabbed both of their glasses on her way back to the kitchen. She made it just in time, turning the oven off and pulling the hot dish from inside. She grabbed the only two plates that matched and placed two slices on each plate. She quickly heated up the mashed potatoes and green beans before placing servings of each next to the meatloaf. She took T’Challa’s plate and now full glass back out the living room first and placed them on the coffee table, finding that he had made himself comfortable in the time that she had been gone, having stripped from his jacket to showcase the way the cotton material of his shirt stretched across his chest.

She had to tear her eyes away from him so that she could go get her own food. She could feel his eyes watching her every move. “Stop staring at my legs.”

Her words were met with his laughter, the sound following her as she grabbed her own plate and glass of wine. She settled on the couch, curling her legs underneath her body. She looked at him expectantly and waited for him to take the first bite. She watched him chew and go back for a second bite without saying a word.

“You’re staring.” He finally looked at her, another bite just inches away from his mouth.

“And you’re not telling me if you like it or not. I gotta tell my grandma something.”

“Did your grandmother make this?”

“No, it was her recipe and when I told her I was making it for you, she wanted me to report back so to speak.” She finally dug into her own food, cutting off a piece of meatloaf and popping it into her mouth.

“Well, you can tell her that I love it.” A little smile came to his lips. “So you told your grandmother about me?”

“Don’t let it go to your head or anything. My grandma is just nosy and wants to know about everyone in my life even if they don’t mean anything.” She pointed her fork in his direction, rolling her eyes playfully.

“I really am starting to get the impression that you’re just trying to hurt me tonight. Now I do not mean anything. I know when I am not wanted…” He started to rise from his seat, but Amaya quickly moved her legs from underneath her and placed them across his lap to keep from getting up.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that you can’t get up from the table until your plate is clean?” She kept her legs draped across his lap even after he sat back down. “Should I have a conversation with your mother so she can have a conversation with you?”

His gaze on her thighs was so intense that she could almost physically feel it, and it was a few long moments before his eyes were on hers again. “Why go through all the trouble when you could cut out the middle man and have the conversation right now?”

“You have a point, but did you ever think that maybe I just don’t want to?” She smirked at him from around her forkful of mashed potatoes.

“There’s something you should know about me, Amaya….” She found herself hanging on his last word as he took another bite of food, waiting for him to finish his statement. “I am very good at persuading people into doing things.”

“I really don’t doubt that, but I can be pretty stubborn when I want to be so I might not be as easy as the other women you’re use to dealing with.” She pulled in a sharp breath when his thumb brushed against her knee and the look in his eyes let her know that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Let the record show that I am currently not dealing with any other women. Just you.” All the playfulness had left his voice and he held her gaze until she was the one to look away.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from smiling too hard. She hadn’t really thought about if there would be other women that he was talking to, but to hear that there weren’t made her feel good. It had been a long time since she had felt secure enough to not have to worry about being played by someone. Hearing it from T’Challa made her believe it even if she had no way of proving it. He wasn’t Rod and he wasn’t going to run off and get someone pregnant after telling her all of the right things. He didn’t seem like that kind of man and he didn’t deserve the comparison to Rod even on his worse day.

“In case you were wondering, it’s just you too.” She cleared her throat and finally looked up at him only to find him smiling back at her.

“I do enjoy the sound of those words.”

“I just bet you do.” She was grateful the moment had shifted back to playful as it had grown a little too serious, giving her an odd feeling in her stomach.

“I would also really enjoy dessert if there is any.” She had been so focused on him that she hardly realized he was done with his food.

“So I’m gonna be straight up with you, I suck at baking…...like I can’t even make box pudding without messing it up somehow and I didn’t think it would be fair to just go out and buy something from the store.” She pulled her lips between her teeth and averted her eyes. She only looked up when she heard his laughter. “That’s not funny! Stop laughing!” She swatted at his arm a few times.

“I apologize. I’m not laughing because I think it’s funny. No one has ever put that much thought into making me dinner before.” T’Challa’s laughter faded into a soft chuckle before giving way completely. “If anything, I think it’s cute that you put so much thought into it.”

“If it helps, I have ice cream.” She was trying her best not to smile, but it wasn’t making it easy for her. He really was a charming bastard when he wanted to be and she hated how easy it was for her to fall right into it. She wasn’t even trying to fight it at this point. There was no need.

“What flavor?”

“Strawberry cheesecake.”

“I accept that flavor.” He leaned forward to place his plate down on the coffee table, coming back and resting his hand on her legs as if it was something they had done before. Amaya had to contain herself because she was very close to jumping all over him in response.

“You didn’t have a choice. It’s the only favor we eat in this house.” When she started to pull her legs from his lap, he fingers wrapped around them to keep her put. “You know, in order for me to actually get that ice cream, I have to go to the kitchen which means I have to get up and that means my legs have to leave your lap I’m afraid.”

“This is quite comfortable though.” He shrugged his shoulders, fingers trailing up and down her calf never once moving above the knee even if she wanted him to. She was actually dying for him to do it. It had crossed her mind more than just once.

“But think of how good the ice cream is gonna taste.” Now she was thinking about the ice cream and despite how good his fingers felt against her bare skin, she was craving the frozen treat now.

“You have a point…..” He lifted one hand to tug at the hairs of his beard gently before lifting his other hand from her leg.

She paused before swinging her legs from his lap and collected their plates to take to the sink. She rinsed them off as a way to try to buy herself a little more time. Even more time was bought when she went to the freezer and took a quick shot from the vodka bottle that lie within before she grabbed the pint of ice cream. This man was truly working a number on her and she wasn’t use to it. She picked up two spoons on the way back to the living room. When she sat down, her legs were being pulled back into his lap and she found herself being pulled closer to him, her hip right up against his and his hands now resting on her thighs.

“You really have gotten comfortable?” She teased him but didn’t pull away because she was also a little comfortable though she would never admit it out loud to him. “I figured this would make up for the fact that I ate our last dessert….completely…..by myself.” She pulled off the plastic that surrounded the top before peeling off the top and licking some of the ice cream that was there. She could feel him staring but she decided to ignore it and instead handed him his spoon, beating him to taking the first bite.

“I have realized something.” She was so focused on the way his tongue moved across the bottom of the spoon that she almost didn’t hear him.

“And what’s that? Because I’ve realized something myself, but you first.”

“You never did tell me why you wanted to become a lawyer.” His thumb moved across her bottom lip, catching a bit of ice cream that lingered at the corner of her mouth before she could lick it away, and sucking his thumb clean. He did it in such a fluid motion that it almost felt like a normal thing between them that she shouldn’t be so turned on by.

“A lot of things. I guess it started when I was younger. I use to be obsessed with Law and Order, you know the tv show, and I use to think being a lawyer was the coolest job in the world and then I went to college and I took a pre law class and I saw it was nothing like tv. Somehow that made me want to do it even more because it wasn’t about the glory of winning a case, it’s more about trying to help people and that’s the part I love.” She licked at her spoon and made a small face. “And there’s so many people, especially black people, that are falsely accused of all of these crimes and end up going to jail because they can’t afford a good lawyer. I don’t think the justice system to should only work for the people who have a few zeros attached to their bank account or look a certain way.” She looked up from the ice cream and saw him staring at her. “What?”

A hint of a smile started to pull at his lips. “Nothing. You just have a really good heart. I can admire that in a person.”

“You’re just saying that to make me smile.”

“I am saying it because I believe it. Your beautiful smile is just a nice bonus.” He reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She knew this move and she knew what would come next…..except it didn’t come next because T’Challa didn’t kiss her.

Amaya felt her stomach drop a little with disappointment. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted him to kiss until she thought it was going to happen and it didn’t. It was like a slight blow to the ego that he hadn’t kissed her yet. She didn’t care if it was technically the second date. She wasn’t one to fuck on the first date, but she wasn’t opposed to a little kissing by the second or the third. Hell, she would have fucked him on the first date if the opportunity arose so kissing definitely wouldn’t have been a problem in her opinion.

Changing the subject would be the best thing for her to do because no matter how much she wanted to ask him why she hadn’t kissed him yet, she didn’t really want to know the answer to that.

“So let’s say I wanted to become king of Wakanda, what would I have to do in order to do that?” She scooped up more ice cream to keep her mouth busy from asking the question that she really wanted to ask.

“Kill me.” He said it so nonchalantly that it took her off guard.

“Wait. Seriously?”

“It’s ritual combat. You either would have to kill me or get me to yield, and I never yield.” “What else?” All of this fascinated her, and she really did want to keep him talking because she enjoyed listening to him.

“Do you plan on taking me out to become king?” With his eyes searching her face, he shifted his body, bringing her even closer to him. Close enough that she could the faint amount of grey that was peppered throughout his beard.

“How old are you?” She blurted out and ignored the question she had been asked. It was something she did. When she got a question in her mind, she needed to know the answer immediately or else it would bother her until she found out. Sometimes she would even fixate on it, letting it consume on her.

“37.” His brows furrowed and sat low on his forehead in his confusion.

There was a 15 year age between the two of them that placed them in very different places in their lives. It wasn’t something that had crossed her mind before. The only thing that concerned her was how attracted to this man she was. She never thought to worry about how much older he was than her. In a very strange world, he was old enough to be her father, or at the very least her older brother…..maybe a distant uncle she only ever met at family reunions.

“Why do you look so horrified?” She hadn’t realized that a look had come to her face.

“You don’t have any kids, do you? None that are currently on the way?”

“No, definitely not.” He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “Is that what you are worried about?”

“No. I’m more worried that you might want different things than I do because you’re so old.” Now that it had come to her attention, it was all that she could focus on.

“I wasn’t aware that I was ‘so old’.”

“You know what I mean.”

He gently pulled the carton and spoon from her hands and placed them down on the coffee table before giving her his full attention. “And what do you think that I want?”

“I’m not sure.” She leaned one arm against the back of the couch and used the crook of her elbow to cradle her cheek.

“Alright. Then what is that you want?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Then how can you be sure that I might want different things than you do?” He lifted a brow.

“No one told you to poke holes in my theory like this.” She pushed at his chest and swung her legs from his lap so that she scoot away from him.

He caught her arm and pulled her back, wrapping an around her waist so she couldn’t get too far away. “I would not call it poking holes in your theory. I was simply showing you that you had no reason to worry.”

“I see your point.” With her hip pressed against him, she could feel the vibrations that came from his pocket. His arm released her waist and he reached into his pocket as she moved away from him a little so he could grab it. “Do you need to take that?”

“It’s not a phone call. It’s a reminder of my meeting in the morning.” His thumb slid across the screen before he was sliding it back into his pocket.

“Oh. I’m guessing you need to go then?” She did her best not to sound disappointed.

“Unfortunately. If I could cancel this meeting I would.” She narrowed her eyes a little at him. “What?”

“I thought you said you were coming for me?”

“I did come for you, but what kind of a king would I be if I didn’t get a little work done while I was here?” He teased and she found herself smiling a little.

“Probably a terrible one.” She tossed back as she stood up to her feet slowly, watching as he mirrored her actions as he grabbed his jacket from the arm of the couch. She tried to keep herself from acting like a little girl who was having her favorite toy taking away as she walked him to the front door. “I had a lot of fun tonight and I’ll make sure to tell my grandma you said her recipe was the best you’ve ever tasted.

“Somehow I do not remember saying all of that.”

“Humor the old woman and let her have this win. You wouldn’t deny and old woman that, would you?” She leaned against the doorframe after opening the door for him.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing that to your poor grandmother.” He pulled on his jacket and somehow made even that look like the sexiest thing Amaya had seen in her whole life. This man was a whole ass man.

“I think she’ll really appreciate that.” She smiled at him and found herself unwilling to let him leave even if she knew it needed to happen.

T’Challa leaned down and closed the distance between the two of them and once again she thought he was going to kiss, but instead she felt his lips brush against her cheek. She was about to take matters into her own hands if he didn’t get it together, but she would let him slide this time.

“I will call you tomorrow.” She nodded her head and he gave her one last smile before she watched him walk down the hall.

She let out a small sigh as she closed the door and locked it. She grabbed the melted ice cream from off the table and replaced the top before going to put back into the freezer. She started to load the dishwasher and clean up the kitchen when she was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Other than T’Challa she hadn’t been expecting anyone else so it was probably just Charlie who forgot her key once again. She tossed the dish towel down on the counter and went to answer the door. She peeped through the peep hole and was surprised to find T’Challa standing on the other side with a look of determination on his features. She immediately opened the door.

“Did you forget something?”

“Actually I did.”

He grabbed her arm and yanked her close until her chest was pressed right up against his. Before she had a chance to react, his lips were finally pressing against hers. There was nothing sweet about his kiss. He kissed her as if he had something to prove and she loved every second of it. Her arms came up to wrap around his neck as she stood on her toes trying to get closer and his arms wrapped around her waist.

Amaya let out a soft moan as he gripped her hips tightly. He was finally giving her exactly what she wanted and it was even better than she had thought it would be. She felt his tongue move across her bottom lip enough to make her part of her lips. She could taste the sweet taste of ice cream on his tongue and it sent sparks electrifying all over her body. Her fingers moved and she pulled at the short coils of hair as she felt her back hitting the wall near her door, trapping her between it and the hard planes of his muscular frame.

His hand crept down her body and his fingers curled around her thigh, lifting it off the ground and hooking it around his waist. The way he pressed into her allowed her to feel just how hard his body truly was and it pulled a needy whimper from somewhere deep in her chest. She took it upon herself to lift her other leg, wrapping it around his waist along with the first one, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck. He seemed to waste on time placing his hands underneath her ass, strong hands holding her up and gripping her ass tightly all in the same regard, pushing her even harder against him to allow her to feel just how much he also wanted this. If this was what she had been waiting for then it was well worth the wait.

By the time he pulled away from her lips, she was breathless, but craning her neck forward for more. She wasn’t ready for the moment to end just yet. She had to bite down on her tongue to keep from letting out a small sound of frustration as he placed her feet back down on the ground. Her hands moved from his neck down the front of his body, unabashedly feeling him in the process. She stared at his chest for a few moments before she looked up at him.

“Did you find what you forgot, Sir?”

“Some of it. The rest I think I should save for later if that is alright with you.” He cupped her chin gently, a far cry from the way he had just roughly kissed her.

“Depends on much later. I don’t think I have a whole lot of patience left.” She toyed with the zipper on his jacket.

“I am afraid you will need to find some. It could be a while...or it might not to be. You’ll have to be a good girl to find out.” The moan she let out was almost inaudible, but the ghost of a smile on his lips let her know that it wasn’t as quiet as she thought it had been. Those two words shouldn’t sound so good coming from him and yet there she was, with a heartbeat between her legs because of them. “Can you do that for me?”

She nodded her head once. “I think I can do that if the reward is worth it.”

“I would like to think it will be more than worth it.” There was a promise in his words that she was hoping like hell that he could keep.

“Then I can do that for you.”

“That’s what I like to hear. I will call you tomorrow. Goodnight, Amaya.” His lips brushed against her cheek once more and she found herself watching him disappear down the hall again.

“Well damn child. I can see why you didn’t want my grandsons.” Miss Catherine’s raspy voice brought Amaya back to reality. The older woman stood in her doorway with a black garbage in her hand and bright pink rollers in her hair. “If I was 20 years younger…..the things I would let that man do to me.”

“Goodnight Miss Catherine.” Amaya couldn’t help but laugh as she slipped back into her apartment and closed the door, her lips still tasting of T’Challa when she licked them.

#t'challa fanfiction #t'challa imagine #t'challa fanfic #t'challa smut #t'challa fluff #black panther fanfiction #black panther smut #black panther imagine #black panther fic #black panther fluff

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myouki · 5 years

Text

A Brewtiful Beginning: Chapter 3

Credits:

Goth: @nekophy

Palette: @angeutblogo

***

"Thank you, I'll be right back with your receipt," Palette stated, taking the credit card the customer handed him. He took it over to the register and slotted it into the reader to process the bill as Goth watched over him.

Once the order was processed, he took the receipt and the card back to the couple and wished them a good evening.

"That was good, your first successful service," Goth praised as he flipped the sign on the door into the 'closed' position once the couple was out the door.

"They didn't leave a tip, though," the taller skeleton noted glumly as he placed a plastic tub on the table to start loading dishes.

Goth shrugged as he went to get the spray bottle and paper towels, "I wouldn't worry about it, some people are just stingy and they seemed happy with the service. Trust me, most customers won't be shy about letting you know if they aren't happy."

Palette quirked his mouth skeptically, but shrugged it off, "You would know better than me. I have to admit I'm amazed at how easy you make this job look; even though you're so young, it's like you know the answer to everything."

Goth spritzed the table as he sheepishly corrected his coworker, "Thank you, but I'm not really that young... I'll be turning thirty-two next year."

"What?! Seriously?" Palette gawked, looking the smaller up and down as they nodded, "Wow, I never would have guessed you were eight years older than me. No wonder you're so smart!"

"I get that reaction more than I'd like due to my size, and it's all experience," Goth answered while fighting down a blush at the compliments, "You'll learn everything you need to know if you stick around long enough. I've been here the longest outside of Zeke and Melissa, two of our other co-workers you haven't met yet. And Mona, of course."

"It shows," Tamara added from where she was closing out the register and counting the drawer for the evening, "You're great at working under pressure and handling grumpy customers."

"The customers like you, though. You're better than me at working the register and advertising our specials," Goth countered as he tossed the dirty paper towel in the trash bin and pulled the broom from the storage closet, "Ah, Palette, could you clean the windows? The window cleaner and paper towel roll are in here."

"Sure," Palette smiled, retrieving the required cleaning supplies and wiping down the row of windows along the outer wall of the shop.

"You know, the customers would like you more if you were more social," Tamara teased, jotting down the register total in a small red notebook. Goth shrugged off the suggestion, he was fine with letting her have that niche.

"We made bank tonight," Claire whistled as she turned the tip jar over on the counter, sifting through the money, "Even splitting it four ways, it looks like we managed at least six bucks each... holy crap, someone left a ten!"

"Either someone really liked our service or they meant to put in a one," Tamara quipped, closing the book with a sharp snap.

"I prefer to think it was a testament to your skills," Mona shuffled through the doorway. Tamara handed over the earnings and the booklet in a practiced manner. Looking over the book, the corners of older woman's eyes crinkled as she smiled, "The numbers agree with me."

"Is there anything else we need to do for closing?" Palette trotted back over to his smaller coworker.

"Let's see...," Goth pondered, dumping out the dirt in the trash bin and leaning on the broom handle, "Closed sign's up. Tables, windows, and floors are cleaned. Cash register's closed out and tips are being counted. Other than storing away today's earnings, which Mona does, all that's left for us is making sure everything's powered down and put away, turning out the lights, securing the doors, and tossing the trash in the dumpster. I can show you where that is."

"Okay," the taller skeleton replied, following along as Goth walked him through the shutdown process. Heading into the breakroom afterward to switch out his apron for his bag, he dug into one of the pockets and pulled out his phone. As he unlocked it, his face fell and he groaned, "Oh no."

"What's wrong?" Tamara asked from where she'd been fixing her makeup in her compact.

"The apartment complex the movers were supposed to be taking my stuff to flooded," Palette relayed, reading through the message again, "The landlord estimated it'll take at least a month to get everything fixed, so the movers don't have anywhere to put my stuff other than a temporary storage locker."

"Ouch," Goth flinched, pocketing his name tag as he asked, "Do you have anywhere else to go?"

"Not on such short notice, not to mention the movers said they'll have to charge a daily storage fee for holding my stuff. I'm not going to be able to afford that," Palette sulked.

Across the room, Goth noticed Claire's amber eyes light up, "Hey Goth, didn't you say you had to kick out your old roomie when he flaked on the rent a few months ago?"

"He did," Tamara joined in, an impish smile on her face, "he complained about having to pick up the whole rent bill on his own because he couldn't find a replacement."

The hooded skeleton answered, "That's true... but I kind of gave up searching after the first three m-"

"Really?! How much is the rent?" Palette jumped on the conversation, his eye lights shining with hope.

"Six-fifty per person each month," Goth mumbled in mild surprise.

"Stars, that's cheaper than what I was going to pay for the apartment I was planning on moving into! Can I be your roommate, please? I promise I won't be any trouble and I'll even help with cooking and cleaning!" the taller begged, grasping Goth's hands.

The smaller stammered, "Uh... sure, that sounds alright. Do we need to go get your things tonight?"

Palette gasped, his eye lights shining, "Can we?"

"Yeah, we can head over so you don't need to deal with a storage fee," Goth confirmed, "Plus a bed would probably be comfier than the couch."

"Thank you, Goth! You're a life saver!" his co-worker cheered, bringing him into a spinning hug while the girls giggled at the scene.

"I wouldn't mind helping out," Claire added.

Tamara grinned, throwing an arm around Claire's shoulder, "Oh, it's becoming a party? You can count me in."

"It's not a party, we're just moving furniture," Goth wheezed in protest.

"Alright, simmer down," Mona chuckled as she locked up her office, "It sounds like there are plans afoot, so you all best be off."

Palette set Goth down with an apologetic blush that was matched by the smaller as they headed out to the lounge area. Claire picked up the trash bag sitting by the counter as Tamara hit the lights, dimming the shop to only the emergency light above the breakroom doorway.

As the door was locked, the trash was thrown out, everyone bid Mona goodnight, Palette led the way to the storage area while Goth tried to maintain a neutral expression.

***

Insert 'they shared an apartment' meme here. No 'there was only one bed' meme, though.

#Poth #Goth #Palette Roller #ABB #MyWriting #Coffee AU

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nachtgraves · 5 years

Text

KuzuHina Week - Day Four

Still the 17th for me so I’m not late. But here’s a continuation of dragon!fuyu, the dinner date! You can read the first part here or on ao3.

Title: Wine and Dine // AO3 Word Count: 2,333 Warnings/Tags: T. Alternate universe, dragon!fuyu, unresolved sexual tension, minato is now my default rando unimportant oc name apparently. Prompt: Alternate Universe

Hajime spends no less than an hour getting ready for his dinner with Fuyuhiko. An hour after a lengthy shower and his bed is covered in shirts and pants and ties. Fuyuhiko had sent him a text with a time and the name of the restaurant he made reservations for but that was all, so Hajime could do nothing more than look the place up. It’s a fancy steak place, four dollar signs and a dress code, reservations only. In the end, Hajime ends up calling Chiaki for advice and she tells him to go with the dark green shirt that brings out his eyes and black slacks and tie. The shirt is a bit tight, he’d filled out in his chest and shoulders since he’d bought it, but it’s nothing obscene. The pants will be hell to get off past his knees but they make his ass look admittedly good. He tames his hair as best he can and spritzes cologne he was gifted at some point but never used. Then he has to leave or he’s going to be late.

Fuyuhiko’s waiting for him out front. He’s in all charcoal grey and black save for a glossy gold tie with some sort of embroidered decoration in a burnt gold tone. Hajime jogs up to him, heart in his throat. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Did you wait long?”

“I just got here,” Fuyuhiko says. He looks Hajime up and down slowly, lingering at his chest and Hajime starts to regret not changing. But Fuyuhiko smirks and draws his bottom lip between his teeth, meeting Hajime’s eyes. “You look good.”

Hajime short-circuits but manages to stumble out a, “You too” voice cracking and going an octave too high.

Fuyuhiko leads the way inside, Hajime keeping to his side and feeling well and truly out of place. They go up to the host and Fuyuhiko gives his name. The host grabs two menus and leads the way to a table covered in a silk eggshell colored tablecloth and even though it’s only set for two, there are more plates and utensils than Hajime’s ever seen outside of movies.

The host says their waiter will be with them shortly and suggests some wines before leaving them to it. The wine menu is extensive, to say the least, and Hajime doesn’t want to image the cost per glass much less per bottle.

“Are you a red or white wine sort of person?” Fuyuhiko asks.

“White, usually. I haven’t really acquired the taste for red yet.”

With a snort, Fuyuhiko says, “If a taste needs to be ‘acquired’, it’s not worth it.” Knowing that Fuyuhiko has a huge sweet tooth, it doesn’t surprise Hajime that he doesn’t like red wine. He almost feels like he’s passed a test.

But then their waiter arrives. He introduces himself as Minato and asks what they’d like for drinks as he sets down a basket of assorted bread and pours them chilled water. Hajime must make some sort of panicked expression even though he tries to keep his face neutral because Fuyuhiko grins at him and takes over, saving Hajime from figuring out the wine menu. He rattles off some sort of wine that Minato commends and then they’re left alone to peruse the menu. Hajime tries his best to contain his reaction to the prices.

“Don’t worry about anything, it’s on me so order whatever sounds good,” Fuyuhiko says. He’s not looking at the menu, instead just watching Hajime with his whisky gold eyes.

“Uh, I don’t really know what most of these are,” Hajime admits, laughs a bit self-deprecatingly.

“If you want, we can go somewhere else,” Fuyuhiko offers. He comes across sincere, looks ready to tell the waiter to never mind, they won’t actually be dining with them tonight.

“No, no, this is fine, great! Just, outside of my comfort zone. I, uh, can’t exactly afford to go to places like this.”

“Then take full advantage,” Fuyuhiko says. “I don’t do this often so I will be.” His tone implies that there’s more to his words and Hajime has to look back down and carefully read through the salads because Fuyuhiko’s grin is filthy.

There are a lot of unfamiliar items listed and whole sections that are for paranormal specific diets in a variety of other languages. Hajime sticks to somewhat familiar items that are safe for mundanes. Fuyuhiko asks for his opinion on appetizers and everything either sounds good or completely unfamiliar and he doesn’t want to pick something that Fuyuhiko might not like.

“I’m good with anything that won’t kill me, so whatever you think is good,” he says. There’re too many choices and he’s already nervous enough as it is. “I’m not a picky eater.” Picking his entrée is more than enough for tonight.

By the time Hajime’s narrowed down his decision between two cuts of steak Minato returns with their wine and Fuyuhiko goes through the fancy wine tasting ritual before declaring it fine and two modest glasses are poured. The bottle is set at the edge of the table in an ice bucket.

“Would you like a few more minutes to decide?” the waiter asks.

“I’m set,” Fuyuhiko says. “Hajime?”

Hajime nods and Fuyuhiko takes the lead, Hajime only chipping in to order his main. The waiter repeats their order, takes their menus, and then goes off. Once he’s gone, Fuyuhiko raises his glass. Hajime clinks his against it gently and takes a sip. The wine is the lightest wine he’s ever had, crisp and a touch sweet.

“How is it?”

“Good.” Hajime eyes the bottle to see the name and make a mental note. It’s probably way out of his price range but for a special occasion, he might be able to make an exception. “Light and sweet.”

“It’s why I like it. Not the best for steak, I’ll admit, but it tastes good and doesn’t fill you up.”

Hajime helps himself to one of the rolls and tears it in half to slather it with the butter. It’s not regular butter and it’s one of the best things he’s ever had. He tries to sneakily coat probably more than the recommended amount on his roll but Fuyuhiko nudges the little bowl over to him and pick one of the sliced breads to eat plain.

“It’s champagne brie butter,” Fuyuhiko says. “My favorite thing about this place, after their filet.”

Hajime pushes the butter back towards the center. “I’m not going to hog it.” Especially if it’s one of Fuyuhiko’s favorite parts of the restaurant. Fuyuhiko just shakes his head at him but he butters his bread with liberal blob and licks his lips of all stray traces of butter.

“So,” he says, picking out another piece of bread, “you’re going to the local university, right? What’re you studying?”

“Mostly education and literature. I want to teach. And I’m minoring in paranormal studies.”

Fuyuhiko selects a roll and breaks off a piece, popping it in his mouth. “And what have you learned about dragons in your studies?”

Hajime feels warm, wants to shrink back at Fuyuhiko’s pointed gaze. If there’s one thing he’s learned from being a mundane in paranormal-centric classes, often the only mundane at that, it’s that he has to tread very carefully when talking about a race to their face.

Luckily, he can dodge this potential bullet for now. “I haven’t taken that class yet.”

“There’s a class just on dragons?” Fuyuhiko sounds intrigued, maybe a touch smug.

Hajime nods. “Unlike the region based classes, dragons are from essentially every corner of the globe. Even amongst the Eastern dragons there’s a lot of differences and variations so there’s actually an Eastern dragons class as well as a Western one. For one of my requirements I’ll have to do at least one of those.”

“If you take the Eastern class, I could tutor you,” Fuyuhiko offers and the images in Hajime’s head make him squirm in his seat and reach for his wine. He’s being ridiculous, taking every innocent comment and twisting it. But he chokes on his generous sip when Fuyuhiko reveals that his offer is not far from Hajime’s gutter-drenched thoughts. “Although I can’t say that what I could teach you would be something your professor would test you on. At least they shouldn’t be.”

Fuyuhiko licks bread crumbs and butter from his finger with one long lazy swipe of his tongue.

Hajime downs the rest of his wine and hopes it can excuse his flaming cheeks and ears. He doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not to Minato who returns with their entrée. It’s a shrimp dish, the shrimps large and glazed in a brown sauce that smells like spicy barbecue.

Minato tops up Hajime’s wine and Hajime makes a mental note to slow down. His tolerance isn’t terrible but he wants to keep as much of his wits about him as he can. It’s hard enough as it is, he doesn’t need to self-sabotage by drinking too much.

They go back to safer, innocuous topics. Hajime talks about his classes, his degree, what he’s planning on doing after. Fuyuhiko tells him about how his sister was an absolute terror until high school where she became a different sort of terror.

“She hated me growing up,” Fuyuhiko says and Hajime can’t imagine anyone hating the dragon before him. “Everyone wanted her to be the heir, but I just happened to be born first and take to my dragon form a lot quicker. I spent more time as a dragon than as a human when I was little.”

Hajime easily imagines a tiny gold dragon taking naps on windowsills and stealing cookies. He imagines a tiny Fuyuhiko, smaller than he already is but eyes big and round in the way of children. He wishes he could see pictures. Fuyuhiko must have been absolutely adorable.

They get through their entrée with minimal provocation and choking on behalf of Fuyuhiko and Hajime, respectively. Hajime’s still taking his wine slow though, but Fuyuhiko’s almost on his third glass. He doesn’t seem affected thanks to his dragon blood, quick metabolism and high tolerance. Their main course arrives, Hajime’s a simple 6oz steak and Fuyuhiko’s a 12oz with a lobster tail, and Hajime’s mouth waters. His is a perfect medium rare and from the ruby red, Fuyuhiko’s a good, bleeding rare. Fuyuhiko’s eyes flash, his pupils narrow into slits. When he opens his mouth to take a bite, his teeth are a touch more pointed than the dulled, flat edges of a human’s.

“How is it?” Fuyuhiko asks when Hajime takes his first bite.

“Amazing,” Hajime answers truthfully. “Probably the best steak I’ve ever had.”

Fuyuhiko’s smile is pleased. “Their swordfish is also really good. I’d recommend that for next time.”

Hajime manages to smile and nod, maybe a bit too widely and little too aggressively considering he’s not the biggest seafood. Next time echoes in his mind on loop. Fuyuhiko’s talking about a next time. A smile is fixed on Hajime face as they work on their meals and carry on conversing. Despite his awkwardness, conversation is easy with Fuyuhiko. They talk about movies and books, work and school, friends and family, and whatever else comes to their minds. There’s only minimal suggestive teasing from Fuyuhiko but Hajime has to force himself to keep his eyes from Fuyuhiko’s mouth wrapping around his fork. Just meeting Fuyuhiko’s molten gold eyes that spark and light with intention as if he can read Hajime’s mind does more than enough.

At one point, Hajime accidently nudges Fuyuhiko’s foot under the table. His apology is cut short when Fuyuhiko’s foot, slipped free from his shoe, slides up the side of Hajime’s leg while the devious, teasing dragon asks about Hajime’s favorite books he’s studied in his classes.

The dinner overall is a test of restraint and willpower but Hajime manages to get through without jumping Fuyuhiko right then and there. His pants are tight for two reasons. He’s never eaten so much in one sitting but the cost weighs on his mind and he makes sure to eat every bite, on that it’s much of a hardship when it comes to how great it all tastes.

“That was amazing,” Hajime says. His wine glass is still a few swallows from empty but he’s feeling that heady lightness from the alcohol fuzzes the edges of his senses. Fuyuhiko has his last few sips, throat working and tongue licking away a stray drop from his lips when he’s done. Hajime busies himself by emptying his glass, looking at the ceiling to gather his wits.

Minato comes by to take their cleared plates. “Would you like to look at the dessert menu? We also have coffee and some excellent cognac that just came in.”

There’s no doubt their dessert will be fantastic, but Hajime’s full to bursting and can’t imagine trying to eat anything more, much as he might want to. But he knows Fuyuhiko has a sweet tooth, dessert probably his favorite part of any meal and leaves the decision in Fuyuhiko’s hands. Fuyuhiko has a thoughtful expression that turns mischievous and bodes ill for Hajime’s self-restraint.

“Could you give us a minute?” he asks. When Minato’s back is to them, Fuyuhiko turns on Hajime with dark, promising eyes.

“I have a suggestion. We could sit here for dessert and coffee and I’ll savor their delicious chocolate and whiskey mousse.” The image alone has Hajime squirming. He’s barely survived as it is and he’s under no illusion that Fuyuhiko won’t try to break him with dessert. “Or. Or, we can get dessert to go and you can taste the mousse and cognac I have at home off of me. However you image that.”

Hajime imagines that a lot of ways, none of them fit for public without threat of arrest for public indecency. “To go,” he says, blushing furiously. Fuyuhiko grins and asks for one mousse and their check.

#kuzuhinaweek2019 #kuzuhina #kuzuryuu fuyuhiko #hinata hajime #sdr2 #danganronpa #my writing #tumblr fic

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junkercrush · 5 years

Text

“Wild Rat” Ch. 2

Stay With Me by junkercrush

Ch. 2 out of 3

Pairing: Wild!Junkrat x Gender-Neutral Zookeeper!Reader

Rating: SFW

Words: 1,451

Author’s Note: There are many Junkrats in this story. “Green” is your main Rat. ^_^

Chapter Two

You almost forgot how huge Overwatch zoo was. It made Blizzard World look like a small, local kiddie park. Zookeepers had to drive everywhere to tend to all the species in the park. If visitors didn’t feel like walking, there were free trolley rides, buses, and rental bikes.

Charlotte made sure each wild being felt like they were back in their natural habitat. For the Rats, it was acres of desert terrain like the Australian Outback.

You drove out with Rodney and Joey to the area. The sun was already beating down upon your head. You fanned yourself furiously with a cheap paper fan Joey had given you.

“What are you doing?” Rodney asked as he parked the range rover. Joey was smearing his face with sunblock.

“Getting ready!” He said.

Rodney sighed. “We’re only going to be here no more than 15 minutes. (Y/N), can you help me with the coolers?”

You nodded and followed Rodney to the back of the vehicle. “What’s inside?” You asked.

“Peace offerings. You’ll find out soon.”

You, Joey, and Rodney went out to a small area surrounded by bare trees, tire swings, rusty sheds (Junkrat houses?), and a swimming hole. Rodney opened the coolers. Chilled, boba tea bottles nestled inside.

You looked around. Not a Rat in sight yet. “Where are they?”

Joey and Rodney took out small, white poppers from their pockets and tossed them to the ground. They popped instantly. Maniacal laughter echoed in the distance. Joey gives you some poppers. “They’re coming. Pop these.” He tells you.

You made your popping noises, and more laughter filled the terrain. You squint your eyes and see a pack of mangy Junkrats running towards your group. All of them have the same mechanical arm and leg replacements. Some of them wore peculiar costumes, others wore shorts of different colors.

“(Y/N), you’d want to stay close to me.” Rodney recommended.

You huddled closer to Rodney and Joey as the Junkrats surrounded you. They were jabbering incoherent sentences, something about bombs and fire. One Rat pointed at the coolers and dove in for their beverage rewards. Another Rat, dressed like a scarecrow, tried to run away with one cooler. The other Rats hissed at him and tackled him into the ground. Scarecrow screamed as the other Rats attacked him with their legs and fists. You covered your mouth in horror. They were so ruthless!

“Geez, don’t kill each other.” Joe groaned and whipped out a spray bottle filled with water. The Rats calmed down in an instant. Scarecrow shoved the cooler back to Joey. He took one drink like everybody else.

Rodney counted the Rat pack. “Hmm, Joe? Have you seen Green?”

Both men pulled out their binoculars (you forgot yours) and searched the area. Rodney popped more little firecrackers. The Rats hopped excitedly in response.

“I don’t see him,” Rodney stated.

“Crap.” Joe sighed.

You stood close by the swimming hole and cautiously handed out bottles to the Rats. One wearing pink, patchy shorts wiggled its ears at you. Another Rat, dressed like a jester, sniffed you.

“H-Hi.” You said to the Jester. He snatched the bottle from you and ran to a tree, just to sit on a branch and stare down at you.

You turned to Joey. “Who’s Green?”

“One of our color-coded Rats. You can tell by their shorts.” Joey replied. He points to the pink shorts Rat happily sipping his drink by the swimming hole. “That’s Pinky.” And two others fighting over a bottle. Rodney sprays water at them. “That’s Yellow and Black. You get the drift.”

Jester yelps and points at the swimming hole. You follow his finger to a floating pair of green shorts. “Oh no.” You gasped.

Joey snatches the shorts out of the water. “Crap! Rodney, c’mere—”

A naked Rat springs out of the swimming hole and grabs you. “G’day, mate!” He yells.

You pushed him off of you and ran towards the range rover, screaming. He hops on your back cackling. The other Rats laugh and holler.

“Green!” Rodney shouts. “Off. Now.”

Green growls and hops off your back. He snatches his shorts from Joe and puts them on.

“You all right?” Joey asks.

“Yeah.” You chuckled. Although Green scared the shit out of you, you found the scenario quite hilarious. It’s better than stepping on a mine or a bear trap.

Later, you handed more tea bottles to the Rats. Joey and Rodney introduced you to all of them, 11 in total. The Rats were all calm now, swinging on their tire swings, chattering, chewing on sticks, and napping.

Pinky rested on your lap. He whined for you to scratch his back. Now, here you are stuck with him. The other Rats were jealous, especially Green. He kept pacing back and forth from afar, huffing and kicking dirt. Rodney observed him, writing notes down on a clipboard.

“Looks like you’re getting along with them well,” Rodney commented to you. “At this pace, you’ll do well with the Reapers.”

You glanced at Joe. He cringed and mouthed “no” to you.

“I’ll think about it. I’ll have to ask Charlotte first.” You suggested.

Pinky finally woke up and scurried off to play with a beach ball with Scarecrow and Orange. Orange was the bald one thanks to a severe case of lice. Jester and Yellow hobbled towards you, sniffing you and petting your hair. They squealed with excitement as you offered them their fourth round of boba tea.

“How many times you feed the Rats?” You asked Rodney.

“About two to three times a week. They don’t eat and drink much.”

“You’ll know when they’re starving. They start screaming.” Joe added.

Jester and Yellow started cuddling up against you. Suddenly, the two growled and chomped their teeth at each other. “Hey, cut that out!” You ordered.

Rodney and Joe were about to take out their spray bottles again until Green arrived. He threw you over his shoulder and let out a terrible screech at the other Rats. You couldn’t see, but you heard Jester and Yellow run away, cowering with fright.

You tapped on Green’s back. “You can put me down.”

“No,” Green responded.

Joe stood in front of Green. “Put. (Y/N). Down.” You heard him spritz water at Green. Some trickle down your legs. Green didn’t budge. You didn’t think it wouldn’t work on him since he’s been hiding in the swimming hole not too ago.

“Green, it’s okay.” You whispered. You scratched his back, a trick you learned from Pinky. The Rats apparently loved it.

Green made a little purr and placed you back on your feet. He nudged his head against your shoulder. The other Rats stared with yearning.

“I believe it’s time for us to go.” Rodney declared.

Back in the rover, you looked back as you rode away from the Junkrats’ terrain. Green ran after the car as fast as his two mismatched legs could take him. Rodney, driving, slowly increased the speed. Green moved down to the ground, running on fours. You stared at him, surprised. He was determined to get you. You never have seen a Junkrat do this, not even in all the wildlife documentaries you’ve watched about them.

You tapped the back of Rodney’s seat. “Hey, can we stop for a sec?” You asked.

“If we do, Green will never let you leave,” Joey said.

You looked at Rodney. He didn’t reply, his sights focused on returning to the main zoo grounds.

The determined Rat was still after the car, speeding through the rover’s dust. His persistence made your heart sink. You grabbed a boba bottle from a cooler next to you and grabbed the car door handle. You’d jump out of a vehicle for an animal in need.

Rodney caught on to your plan in the rearview mirror and slammed on the breaks. “Go.” He muttered. Joey eyed you like you were crazy.

“Thank you.” You smiled and ran out of the vehicle.

Green sat on the ground, covered in dust waiting for you with a wide, toothy grin. You chuckled at the sight of his dirty face and wiped it off with a towel.

“Here.” You offered the boba bottle to Green. He took it and drank it all in one, long sip.

“Mate,” Green said as he hugged your legs. You petted his head then he ran off to join his pack.

You watched on until Rodney blew his car horn. “(Y/N), we’re going to meet the Meis. You’ll love them too!” He shouted. You ran back to the rover and watched the Rat pack until you couldn’t see them no more.

<---Chapter 1 Chapter 3--->

#masterlist #stories #junkrat #junkrat x reader #overwatch #overwatch fic #jamison fawkes #jamison fawkes x reader #sfw

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sockdreams · 6 years

Photo

DIY: Spray Dye!

We've posted bunches of DIYs on dyeing your socks before, it's one of the most fun and easy ways to customize your sock drawer. But, we recently encountered a different way to dye, one that reminds us more of bleach stamping, thanks to it's stencil-ability: spray dye! It's way easier than vat or pot dyeing and super fun, so let's learn how to spray that dye!

Because we wanted to show the full range of possibility, I tried several different techniques: spraying on dry, spraying on damp, spraying on wet, and using smoothly textured stockings. What I learned is that there's a world of ways to mix and match techniques, so if you're interested in using spray dye, get ready to experiment! It's very fun but you'll want to test things out before working on that dream project. Luckily, I've tested some things for you, so you can go into your spray dye session with confidence!

First, here's what you'll need:

A work surface covered with newspaper (and I recommend laying down a plastic trash bag or something, THEN newspaper, for minimum mess). Be sure to really cover everything, you don't want any stray spray spattering things unwanted!

Simple designs to use as stencils. I used some printed-out clip art shapes—here's the sheet I used.

If your designs are on regular printer paper, you'll also want a sturdier piece of card, because it's gonna get soggy quick.

A craft blade to cut out your shapes and something safe to cut on.

Your spray dye, I'm using SEI Tumble Dye, picked up at a local craft store. Other dyes can be diluted and put into spray bottles as well, you'll want to read instructions on the dyes you use for best water-to-dye ratios.

Socks to dye! For science, I'm using a wide range: Extraordinary Thigh Highs, O Basics, Midcalf Woolies and the Opaque Nylon Stockings

Not shown: a place to lay out the socks to dry

Optional: a spray bottle of water

Optional: cardboard to put in the socks for less bleed-through

These spray dyes are pretty neat. I picked up a range of options, they were all under $5 each: two plain colours (Mint and Turquoise), two glitters (Silver and Gold) and a glow in the dark. The instructions are very clear on the packaging, you basically shake before using, spray and dye. They do also say "no gloves needed" but my fingertips ended up getting a bit dyed, so unless you're incredibly neat and way better at spritzing than I am, you may want gloves.

Spray dye on dry socks

I'll start with some Extraordinary Thigh Highs. To prevent excess bleed-through, I cut up an old shipping box into one long strip and slid the sock I was working on over it. It's a little tricky, but if you gather the sock up like you're putting it on a leg, you'll be good.

I cut out my stencil shapes, saving the cut out part to use as a reverse stencil. Simple shapes are good, both in making them easier to cut out and so the edges of the shape aren't lost from the texture of the sock or the dye bleeding.

Time to spray! The bottles were pretty easy to use, but some of the various types had a more stubborn spritzer. I found using both hands to squash the top down (and shaking the bottle regularly) helped a lot.

On a dry sock, the spray beads up a bit and is very "splashy" and airbrush-y, it's neat. I think it'd be really cool mixed with other surface design, like painting or stamping. Or . . . GLOW IN THE DARK DYE.

There's a faint colour to the glow in the dark dye (I'm pointing at it in the second half of the image above), but it's pretty subtle. It sort of blended into the Mint dye, so it's not very noticeable, which is rad. Surprise glow is the best glow. In later testing it seems like going super heavy on your spray by spraying close and several times makes for a better glowing shape.

Once I got one side looking how I wanted, it was time for the next! Having the cardboard inside made it very easy to flip and to hold by the edge so I could line up the splashes of colour. No matter what, you're going to have some "seams" on the sides of what you're spraying, but this helps break it up.

The end result isn't my favourite of the batch, but I am a fan of airbrushing and glow in the dark, so I still like 'em.

Wait, I take back what I said about which is my favourite. Because as soon as the lights are off, these socks ROCK. Please take this blurry, but vividly glowing image as proof of why. It's like proof of Bigfoot's existence, only way more exciting:

DANG! I'm sold.

Spray dye on damp socks

This spray dye says it's particularly good for tie dye, so I knotted and folded up a pair of O Basics and misted them heavily with water. I followed that up with some heavy sprays of Turquoise and hit them again with water, hoping to encourage some colour spread.

The results seem far more subtle than regular tie-dying, as the socks were damp, not wet, so the dye only spread minimally, though misting the water made the edges soften.

The end result is like drifts of clouds, but I personally would stick with a vat or pot for tie dyeing myself, because I prefer long dye times that are easier to achieve when the thing you're dyeing is sitting in the dye, rather than your dye sitting on the thing you're dyeing.

I did try something else rad on this pair, but you gotta wait to the end of the post to really see it.

Spray dye on wet socks

Well, socks, what if we go full-wet? I got a pair of Midcalf Woolies fully soaked and wrung them out thoroughly. I then learned two things.

First, if you're going to work with very wet socks, putting plastic under them will make things a little neater while you're working. I grabbed an old shopping bag, which ended up being perfect because I flipped it after I sprayed one side, so the socks weren't sitting in little puddles of dye.

Second, wet wool sure has a smell I forget about.

I loosely folded the socks sort of accordion-style, to get organic stripes and then liberally spritzed them all over with the Mint dye. Then, using the Turquoise dye I started at the toes, aiming towards the cuffs of the socks, for a sort of gradient.

With this pair I used a "reverse stencil" by laying down a cut out star shape and spraying around it. I super love how this looks and it's partially why this pair is my favourite of the lot.

Also: stripes are the best. And the natural-off white colour of the wool yarn adds a depth to the dye colours I really am digging. Plus, this pair has a little surprise you can probably catch in the images above.

Spray dye on dry nylon stockings

Socks are rad, but when it comes to fine detail their texture keeps things rough. Like RIT, SEI Tumble Dye works across different fibers—from the cotton Extraordinaries and O Basics to the wool Midcalf Woolies. So I knew it'd work great on nylon. Most dyes love nylon. And the super fine and smooth texture of the Opaque Nylon Stockings just begs to be drawn and dyed on!

I went a bit wild with the stencils on this one, but also experimented with drips, not quite by choice (the stencils were getting pretty soggy, but I went with it). The more detailed flower stencil worked like a champ on these stockings!

The finished result is like something a mermaid hippie would be into and that makes me love them.

Tips, treats and wrapping up

Since this has been a more free-form DIY, the various things I noticed trying out this technique get to go here. More than any other surface design technique, spray dye is something you want to keep fiddling with. I'm already eyeballing one pair to hit with the spray again once I've typed this all up.

Lay flat to dry, for real

The instructions on the dye mention that hanging what you've dyed will encourage the dye to bleed downward. If that's not your jam, then lay everything flat to dry on a fresh surface of newspaper. Once everything is nice and dry, put them in the dryer for 20 minutes to heat set the colour.

Sturdier stencils, seriously

I thought I was being all wise, using mid-weight card stock for my stencils. Well, dampness laughs at such hubris. I recommend not using anything less sturdy than a file folder and maybe having a couple of each stenciled shape, so you can swap when they get over-damp. This is a stencil only one pair of socks in, already buckling under the wet.

I also recommend having rags or paper towels on hand to blot your stencils and wipe your hands. Dye will pool and build up on your stencils, making things a little risky when you remove them from your socks.

Watch those wrinkles!

If you're going for a smooth or more patterned look, really use a piece of cardboard inside the sock and make sure everything is nice and flat before you start spraying. The overall look of spray dye is sort of free form; but getting slashes of the sock's colour in the middle of a dyed area, because you forgot to smooth things out, might not be something you want. I still think the stockings this happened to me on look awesome, luckily.

GLITTER!!!

Astute readers may have noticed I mentioned glitter spray dye in my list up at the top and then never mentioned it again. That's because it was 100% the best thing about the spray dyes and I wanted to show off the sparkles. Even as it was making an epic mess on my workspace (they spray much more enthusiastically than the regular dyes), it was beautiful and shimmery.

It's not a heavy sparkle, but what it does do is add a fairy dusting to whatever you're spraying. It took everything in me not to coat all the socks with glitter dye. I did happily get the stockings and the wool socks with it (silver and gold, respectively) and I'm thrilled.

Heads up: we did notice the be-glittered socks shed a little bit of their shimmer onto our hands, but we're not sure what the long term lifespan of the glitter is for these.

Go forth and spray dye!

Like a lot of more free-form dye techniques, spray dye offers a lot of possibility and rewards experimentation. If you've been wanting to play with dye but don't want to mess with the vats and buckets and dipping and dunking, spray dye is a fun and accessible way to spice things up with a little colour. Test and try and keep playing and you'll end up with a pair of socks you love that you made look that awesome!

#DIY #spray dye #tutorial #socks #dye #stars #hearts #so fancy #do it yourself

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wineanddinosaur · 3 years

Text

Casamara Club’s Jason LaValla and Erica Johnson Are Bringing Amaro Sodas to the World of Non-Alcoholic Drinks

While the pandemic has turned many of us into big (or bigger) drinkers, two amaro enthusiasts inspired by the Italian tradition of botanical-based libations have been quietly toiling to grow their small line of amari sodas.

Launched in 2018 by Jason LaValla, Casamara Club is a line of sparkling amaro soft drinks (or “leisure sodas” as the brand calls them) attractively designed for a discerning group of trend-seeking drinkers. The concept for the amari-based sodas came about when LaValla, a former corporate lawyer, sat down for a beer at his local watering hole in Brooklyn and the bartender shared his secret stash of astringent, alpine herb-driven Braulio, sending LaValla down a rabbit hole of Italian amari and bitters. From there, LaValla got the idea for “bitters & soda” and began tinkering in his kitchen, playing with botanicals to create a balanced, non-alcoholic riff on a Campari soda. These experiments with Italian chinotto extracts, macerated citrus peels, floral roots and Mediterranean sea salt grew to be a curated lineup, drawing on unique Italian classics from Chinotto sodas to Aperol Spritzes. “I did about 400 variations of [Chinotto & Juniper] heavy Alta over six months, trying to figure out not just the botanical profile, but how to strike a balance between tart, bitter, sweet, and salty,” LaValla tells me. “Once I figured all that out, the next three [flavors] came a bit quicker.”

Just after LaValla sold the first cases of Casamara Club, he decided he wanted to bring in someone with food production and sourcing experience, whom he could trust to run the business with him. Over coffee on New Year’s Day 2019, Erica Johnson, LaValla’s longtime friend and an Eataly communications alum, came on as a business partner and an integral part in propelling Casamara Club’s mission forward. “Erica was the first and only person I talked to since she was so supportive of the club soda idea from the start. … She was one of the first people to try my early amaro experimentations,” says LaValla.

LaValla and Johnson’s goal has always been to show their appreciation for Italy’s amaro and bitter liqueur culture with their thoughtful line of easy-drinking sodas. And while the concept didn’t initially catch on, the pair’s persistence and smart marketing has since landed Casamara Club in a number of specialty shops, restaurants, and bars around the country.

Read on to learn how these two are on the forefront of the new booze-free drinks movement and about the path they’re paving for the future of leisure soda.

1. What inspired you to create a line of alcohol-free drinks? What place do you think they occupy in the industry?

Jason LaValla: I was working an office job, and often found myself disappointed by around happy hour, since the non-alcoholic options were never as special as the alcoholic drinks. I don’t mean to be glib, but none of us should be drinking alcohol 100 percent of the time! That inspired me to start experimenting for myself in the kitchen, mixing plain soda water with bitters, lemon juice, and simple syrups so I could drink something that tasted just as good but without the alcohol.

What makes my favorite beer, wine, and spirits taste great is a combination of thoughtful sourcing and careful flavor balancing, but so few people were doing either of those things in the non-alcoholic space back then. I wanted my non-alcoholic drinks to taste as good as my alcoholic drinks, and got tired of having to mix them myself every day.

2. What is the mission of Casamara Club, and how are you achieving it?

Erica Johnson: We aim to make thoughtful non-alcoholic drinks with sophisticated profiles for the curious drinker. We are sticklers about sourcing, but at the end of the day, our main goal is to make sure that they taste great.

Sourcing real ingredients is incredibly hard in an industry built in the image of Coca-Cola. So much of what is available are “natural flavors,” which are constructed in a lab from a blend of mystery extracts to taste like someone’s idea of a particular botanical.

Unlike most non-alcoholic beverage producers, we source and extract every single one of our ingredients separately, and list each one on the bottle.

3. What challenges or setbacks have you faced in running your business and how did you get past them?

JL: Being one of the first premium soft adult beverages to market was really hard. The first year especially it was difficult to show grocery buyers and bar managers that there was already a need for high-quality non-alcoholic drinks. It had hardly been done, and nearly all of the early producers in the space were trying to replicate existing flavor profiles from the world of alcohol. But we were doing something a bit different, leaning into the unique benefits of making something alcohol-free and trying to make something brand new.

4. What’s a significant shift your business has made in the last six months that you had never considered before or never thought possible?

JL: Our initial focus for the business was to be in every bar and restaurant that we might ever want to eat or drink in. Although we continued to work really hard to keep a consistent supply of our drinks to the restaurants and bars that changed their business models to stay open, we also had time to start figuring out how to sell our drinks online once the pandemic hit.

There are so many factors that make selling online hard for us. First of all, bottles are super heavy and expensive to ship. Not only do we need special packaging, we also have to compete with online stores like Amazon that offer “free” two-day shipping.

We were very lucky that when the pandemic hit, we’d just moved into a new fulfillment center, one that was willing to work with a business as small as ours, but still established enough to grow with us.

There’s also the issue of, how do you actually find people to sell to? Before the pandemic, if I wanted to reach people in a certain place, I’d stop by a few grocery stores, bars, and restaurants with samples, and have a conversation with the buyer. When you’re selling online, all of that goes out the window. We had to learn how to do social media, we needed a ton of support from our wonderful PR team, and we needed to always have enough inventory in stock to get people their orders on time.

To put it simply, the pandemic didn’t translate into a successful online presence — it was simply our only option for survival.

EJ: As a new company, we’re constantly coming up against things that we never thought were possible. Every new milestone we hit is a surprise, whether it is the sheer volume of orders we received in January, which led us to sell out way ahead of our next scheduled production date, or the number of people that actually read our Friday newsletter that mostly details the dumb action movies we’ve seen that week.

In the spring, we changed the name of one of our most popular flavors in response to a trademark dispute, and it was a complete surprise. Who knew we were big enough to be threatened with frivolous litigation? Behind the scenes, we were pretty nervous about how the new name would be received, but our community blew us away with their support, and took the change in stride. We’ve started to adjust our thinking on what “possible” means.

5. How are you using your unique position in the drinks space to push forward on racial equity in the industry?

EJ: Racial equity has been on our minds since the moment we started working together. We’re doing our best to reflect that in how we source and who we collaborate with.

Our corner of the industry is small but growing, and it’s been heartening to see so many of our peers committing to change the status quo. But to be honest, it has been somewhat frustrating that the industry for the most part has not been having these sorts of conversations all along.

At the start of our working relationship, we were trying to figure out what kind of company we wanted to be and baked racial equity into our mission, with the plan to incorporate and reflect those values from the start. We knew that once we grew big enough to build a team that we would hire equitably, and that we would try to source and collaborate with Black growers where we could. It’s an ongoing conversation for us, tied to ideas of food sovereignty and justice, and the visibility of these issues.

6. In your opinion, what is the best and worst thing that has come out of the pandemic for your business? For the drinks industry as a whole?

EJ: I’m not sure we can separate our business from the industry as a whole. Everything that’s made running the business hard has also made us more resilient and more adaptable. It’s showed us we can lean on our community, and put us in a position to be supportive in return.

7. What opportunities are there for up-and-coming talent in your area of the industry?

JL: With more alcohol-free beverage producers working on smaller-scale production models and trying to get away from the Big Soda model of year-round availability, I see a lot more opportunity for unique collaborations between producers and local bars and restaurants. We just finished working with a local brewery to build out a “microbrew” production line specifically for non-alcoholic drinks, and are super excited about how that will allow us to bring in smaller, more interesting suppliers from our community.

8. What’s your long-term vision for Casamara Club?

EJ: The same thing as our short-term vision. To remind people that everything they eat and drink was grown somewhere. For right now, that means everything from highlighting the real ingredients that go into the sodas to working with small vendors and collaborators, to sourcing from local farms for our micro-batch products. We’re already working on new ways to extend all of this out, creating drinks that both support and are evocative of local food economies across the country.

The article Casamara Club’s Jason LaValla and Erica Johnson Are Bringing Amaro Sodas to the World of Non-Alcoholic Drinks appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/jason-lavalla-erica-johnson-casamara-club-amaro-sodas/

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