#also editing to add I typed all this on my phone without glasses while in bed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tempobrucera · 4 years ago

Text

The sea will crowd us with lovers at night - Part 3

Pairing: Thomas x Fem!Reader x Victoria Summary: Threesomes are fun. Doing it a second time as well. It's true, when you don't consider the consequences, but maybe you should. Word Count: 8500 Warnings: Threesome, oral sex (fxf), voyeurism/exhibitionism, struggling to cum, sleepy sex, talking boundaries. A/N: Only took me 6 months to edit and proofread this. Other parts where uploaded beginning of July and 26th of July (and can someone please tell me this wasn't that long ago), or consider that I had this in my head beginning of February first.

PART I / PART II (It could be read without them, does it make more sense with them? Maybe a bit. These are shorter by a lot as well) II Add yourself to the taglist

If you use anything out of my writing or feel inspired by it, you ask or you link back to the fic. Thank you. If you don't, you're blocked from now on.

***

How you ended up squeezed inbetween Thomas and Victoria in this tiny roman wine bar, you can't really tell anymore. Noises and voices all around, glasses clinking together, chatter going on at the table. Thomas' knee pressing against yours, conversations you don't pay attention to, Vic's thigh pressed against yours. He's laughing but you aren't sure what's so funny to laugh like that. Drunken people at your table, people dancing next to it making the best of the space they have. Thomas who puts his arm around your waist.

You drink your wine, you try to listen to the stories Damiano and one of his friends are telling, the ones that get Thomas to laugh gleefully turning his nose a rosy shade of pink. But you can't, you just can't concentrate with both of them next to you. On your other side Victoria places her hand on your thigh, leaning into your space a little bit. Another person toasts with you, Salut. Autopilot. And Thomas merely raises an eyebrow while Victoria leans even more against you.

"God Vic, leave them alone and stop thirdwheeling." Ethan laughs, and that's the first thing that brings you somewhat back to reality.

Victoria's hand on your thigh wanders up higher, Thomas is still watching on but also doing that small disapproving sound in the back of his throat that you know by now. You're just frozen in place.

"They can say something themselves?", Victoria looks at Ethan, her hand still on your thigh, "If I annoy them? I'm just trying to have fun here."

Damiano slightly rolls his eyes. Thomas just looks at her, taking her hand under the table, trying to gently push it off you, failing. Other people on the table got back to their conversations and their drinks, Ethan is still watching on but saying nothing anymore.

With a sigh, Thomas wiggles a little next to you, getting his phone out. You can see what he's typing, leaning your head against his shoulder.

not here. get your hands of my girlfriend. NOW vic!

You can feel Vic's phone vibrating against your thigh, she's pulling it out of her pocket and now she's the one who's sighing: "You're no fucking fun at all, Raggi!"

Ethan is looking on interested, looking at all three of you. Victoria takes her hand of your thigh, but not before letting them linger there for another moment, slightly stroking. Thomas on your other side, is moving closer to you. Damiano just looks confused, trying to change the topic a few seconds later and you're happy that it works.

***

The night ends hours and hours later when it's past midnight, almost the crack of dawn. Only almost, it's still dark outside. You're standing in front of the bar, people saying their goodbye's. Thomas and Damiano smoking, Damiano and Ethan both still having their last drink in hand.

"Are we leaving?", Thomas asks next to you and you just nod. You're tired and now that you're outside breathing fresh air, you can feel how drunk you really are.

"No!" Victoria next to you waves the beer bottle she took from Ethan at the both of you. "You can't go yet, you should stay a bit longer."

"Vic, we're all going in a bit. Just let them leave", Damiano says.

"But we have to go in the same direction."

She gives Ethan his beer back, who takes a sip, interrupted by another friend, who says bye, before he speaks up: "Vic, Dami and I are bringing you home, okay? And these two here are free to go home without you."

Victoria doesn't look happy but she says nothing against it, just tries to stare Ethan down which doesn't work in her favour. Damiano is already hugging you and then Thomas before anyone else can say anything about it anymore. Ethan and even Vic is following suit and you're finally on your way home.

***

You don't come far, just walking across the street and a tiny bit further down, before Thomas' phone indicates that he got a message and not even 5 seconds later your phone is doing the same.

"Thanks for leaving me with the grandpa's, asshole!", he reads out loud and looks at you, "Nice! What did you get?"

"You're a menace", you answer him.

He laughs, lightening himself another cigarette, further skipping down the cobbled street: "Well, she's right with that one, you are."

Now it's on you to laugh. You quicken your steps to keep up with him. "No, Thomas. It said: Your boyfriend is a fucking menace, not me."

He stops walking abruptly, you're almost crashing into him but Thomas holds you back before it can happen. Leaning against the wall of the next building, he pulls you with him. It feels nice, leaning against him, to hear his drunken laugh.

"Sorry, I just want to go to bed, watch whatever thing you're watching on Netflix at the moment in the morning and nothing else." He pulls you closer, he smells like white wine, the tequila sunrise he was drinking and like cigarette smoke and when he kisses you, you think that he also tastes like he smells. "I'm gonna take tea before going to bed as well."

"You sound like Damiano." Thomas playfully slaps your arm for the comment but then bends down a little to give you another kiss. "It's okay though, you don't have to apologise."

He just holds you, stubbing out his cigarette against the wall, rests his chin on your head: "Tell that to Vic, she's probably pissed at me and I feel awful. I just wanna cuddle though, just with you."

"She is drunk, she'll get over it", you try to reassure him but you're not sure about it working.

***

It's four days since you all went out together. Thomas is stretched out on your couch as you hang up your laundry.

"How's Vic?", you ask him over the music coming from his phone. She did talk to you, but the last time it was so short that you don't really know what to do.

"She's still not over being left behind", he puts the last three words in air quotes. Staring at his phone, not saying anything else. Okay then.

Only when he starts coughing, almost spitting out his water, you look up from your laundry again: "You okay?"

There's no answer, just more coughing. When you go over to him, standing behind him, he notices you and the What? and the Yeah, yeah is almost drowned in another coughing fit. From where you're standing, you can see his phone though and the group chat he has open. It's a photo of Thomas, Victoria and you that Damiano sent. What draws your attention is the Thomas & his girls!💘 caption and the answers from Vic and Ethan.

Thomas' girls indeed 😇 - Victoria.

not everyone can be a damiano girl. - Ethan.

"Sure you ok?", you ask again but you don't really expect an answer. Staring at his phone, still, he pulls your arms around him. Kissing the palm of your hand, nuzzling it slightly, you laugh and he finally looks up to you. "Really, you sure you okay? We talked about this but we never really talked with Vic about it."

"She's my best friend, I just don't want that to change just because I got myself into something stupid." Still lightly nuzzling one of your hands.

"We all got ourselves into this, it's not your fault." You kiss the top of his head, trying once again with reassurance, not sure if you're failing with it as well. "Or did it change anything between you, the sex?"

"No? No, actually not really. Just sometimes ...", he drifts off - shaking his head, "when I have one of these days and she notices and she says things and ... there's only so much I can do without ... uhm, you know?"

"Oh." Somehow you don't know whatelse to say about this.

"Yeah, oh. Sorry." Thomas just sinks deeper into the couch, slouching over even more.

"No need to apologise."

"She just says things like Oh, look at Thomas, being so good at this being such a good boy, I know someone who would love this. It's embarrassing, really." He's starting to ramble, so you decide to reposition yourself as you can't stand hunched over for much longer without getting terrible back pain the next day. Just sitting in front of the couch, leaning your head back and Thomas puts his arm around you again. "Everyone sees me blush and it's really hard to concentrate playing with a fucking boner during band practice. At least I can hide behind the guitar though."

"Thomas, I told you, you don't have to apologise. Neither do you have to explain, I got it and I'm not angry." Looking up at him, you see that he's looking down at you. "Just tell her to stop, honey."

"Hmmmm."

That's the problem, you think, talking about it. It would make it really real, realer than it is right now. He makes an attempt to you pull up on the couch, it doesn't work out as he wants to and you just sink down to the floor again. "You and your long legs are already taking up all the space up there anyways", you tell him.

"Here's enough space." This time you actually help him with his second attempt, getting up and letting him pull you down on him. "See, enough space on the couch and on me."

Before you pick up the conversation again, you kiss his jaw, under his chin. "We have to talk about it at one point, Thomas. With her as well, might as well get over with it."

"Just talk about what we all want out of it and what's not okay to do?", he asks and he waits until you nod, "I can invite her for dinner at some point."

***

Two weeks later and Victoria still hasn't been over for dinner or just a chat. The first half of the first week, you still asked him about it. By the second half of that week, you gave up with your efforts. It didn't help, that it made it so weird between all of you to the point that Damiano and even Ethan commented on the strange behaviour. All you do, is hope that Thomas is getting himself together, before you have to ask Vic over yourself, probably not making him too happy.

You try not to think about it, when he comes over later in the evening, try not to ask. It's easy not to think about it when you both have a glass of wine in the kitchen, just talking about your days for what feels like hours but in reality is only twenty minutes. Even easier when he draws you in closer and closer, as close as he can, when he's leaning against the kitchen counter.

Kissing Thomas is always easy. You don't think anything about it, don't particulary want it to lead to anything but Thomas seems to have other plans when he spins you both around, so you instead of him are pinned against the counter. Feeling his fingertips moving up under your skirt, lightly caressing your inner thighs. Lightly but you can still feel how rough his fingertips are. You sigh as he draws swirly lines on your thigh with his fingertips, which go further and further up and reach your panties.

Thomas takes them off and lets them slide from your legs to the floor. Silently moaning against your lips, getting your right leg up to place it around his waist. Standing between your legs, he let's his head sink to rest on your shoulder, breathing against your neck. His hand is between your legs, pleasuring you with feather-light touches before your breath catches and you push yourself more towards him. With one hand you open the button and the zipper of his jeans, with the other you pull him even closer to you by his waist. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see him eyeing the clock that hangs in your kitchen. You don't think anything of it first and you don't think anything at all when one of his fingers slides into you deeper. But when you look back at him after having closed your eyes and opened them again, he looks at the clock again.

He moves and sees you looking at him, then at the clock, back at him: "Uhm, I don't think ... that I mentioned it but Vic is coming over, like today."

All you can do is moan when he brushes your clit with his thumb. The When? almost going under because of it, he still hears you and he mumbles Like ... Now!? against your shoulder.

"Can you maybe joke after we're done?", you laugh but you see him guiltily looking at you, "Thomas, are you serious?"

Just when the question leaves your mouth, the doorbell is ringing and you can't help but swear, curse Thomas. Curse him even more when he steps away from you, losing his warmth and also taking his hand away from between your legs.

"I hate you", that's what you tell him, "Right now, I hate you."

You hear him say so many Sorry's in a row when he stumbles to the door, you almost worry and want to apologize for what you just said but it's his own fault to start something he knew he wouldn't be able to finish in time, you think. Trying to look presentable again is difficult, at least you're dressed when you go to meet them. Victoria passes you a bottle of wine which you just leave on the bookshelf in your corridor. She just looks from you to Thomas back to you back to him. You two really must look like quite something.

Thomas looks dishevelled, hair a mess, there's no doubt that you don't look any better right now. His clothes are crumpled, your skirt isn't quite how it should be worn normally, Thomas' zipper isn't even closed. It's obvious that she disturbed something here.

"Am I interrupting, or is this why you wanted me to come over?", she asks looking at Thomas, "Because go on then."

Any protest you might have had dies the second Thomas kisses you again, this time grabbing you by the waist. Victoria leaning against the wall, just watching every move you two make. He's pulling you into the direction of the living room, Vic trailing behind you. You can feel her eyes burning into your back. Thomas is tugging at your skirt and you're tugging at his shirt until he shows you some kind of mercy and takes it off, pulling it over his head just letting it fall down the floor. On the way somewhere you lose your skirt and shirt and your panties as well. Before you can get to his jeans, he sits down on the couch pulling you with him, you ending up sitting in his lap. Victoria is sitting down in the armchair on the right, close to the couch but still far away.

Thomas doesn't hesitate to pick up again where he stopped in the kitchen earlier. Unclasping your bra first, letting it slide down your shoulders and then down the sofa. He moves you both around, so you can lay down on the couch, your groin still in his lap. His fingers on your body, in you - slowly thrusting in and out. At first you don't realise that the noises are coming from you, it sounds too far away, and when you do you minutes later you can just quietly whimper.

"Shhh", he whispers close to your ear when he pulls his fingers out slowly, you clenching around him, "Shhh."

Kissing you, he pulls you up with him. Still having you on his lap, still kissing you then. One of your hands is wandering down to the hem of his jeans, because you sure as hell want him now. He grabs your wrist before you can do anything. "Go over to Vic", he says against your ear. You know that you sound frustrated when you breath against his skin. "Come on, don't have me ask twice."

"It's going this way as well? I see." That's what Victoria says when you give in, stand up and go over to the armchair Vic is sitting in. Sitting there in her bralette, just pushing off her trousers and her underwear off her feet. "I'm not complaining, nice to know that I have two people to play around with, if I wanted to."

You're not sure what to do when you stop in front of her. Victoria on the other hand seems to know exactly what she wants. She pulls one of your legs onto the armrest of the chair. All of a sudden you feel exposed but looking at her face you realise that that's probably what she wanted to achieve with this. Behind you, you can hear Thomas groan on the couch.

"Let me have a look if Thomas did a good job with this, hmm?" Surprisingly you can't tell if the whimper coming from him or your own is louder. Her slender fingers just slide into you, two at once. It's easy for her because of him, you know that he did a good job. Her fingers can't go as deep but it still feels good. "Oh, he definitely got you wet."

Thomas moans again, you tell yourself not to look at him however you lose that battle with yourself, not that you had much chances to win in the first place. He's still sitting on the couch, touching himself, having one hand down his jeans. Head thrown back, slightly bucking his hips. With the next thrust of his hips, he looks at you and as much as you want to look at him, you have to look away.

"Thomas."

Victoria pushes her fingers into you a little harder at that: "That's quite rude, you know? Moaning his name when you have my fingers in you."

"Vic", you're trying - you even want to apologise to her. You can't though, all you want this moment is him, badly. Or maybe you just want them both, both of them close to you. "Thomas, please!"

You hear movement, you hear the quiet fuck coming from him, you hear footsteps and you hear Victoria saying something. Only when he's behind you, kissing your shoulders, you are aware that he really came over. Vic is still moving her fingers in you, slowlier now. Thomas puts his arm around your hip, reaching for Vic's wrist. The change of angle is only minimal but it has you going from moaning to desperately whimpering. For a few minutes they keep up with it, Thomas guiding her hand, exactly how you like it. Out of your half lidded eyes you can see him lightly pushing her hand in all the right directions, how he slowly pulls her fingers out, Vic kissing right next to your navel.

"Bed", Thomas murmurs against your skin, "Why did we start this here again?"

Thomas is holding you up, when your legs are giving in. You're not sure if you're even going to make it to the hallway, let alone to your bed, like this. "It's okay, I can carry you", you hear him say. Not sure if you just said it out loud or if he knows you and your body this good by now. Victoria is helping you, getting your leg down from the armrest and he's turning you around in his arms before picking you up.

Pressing yourself against his stomach, you moan again. His jeans are so low on his hips by now that you're skin to skin, no denim between you. Something tells you, you probably shouldn't do it but it feels too good to stop when you slightly hump against his happy trail and navel. Not only does it make you moan, Thomas groans as well and you can hear Victoria inhaling sharply. Somewhere between the armchair and half way down the corridor, you decide that you really like this. Getting more friction, moving up and down his belly while he's carrying you further down the hall.

"So desperate for that cock, can't wait to watch", Vic is saying somewhere next to you.

Thomas is flexing his stomach muscles just a little bit, you can still feel it. It's drawing a sob out of you. You're so sure that you can come like this, if you really want to. If you really concentrate on his breathing, on your own, anything really. "Cazzo, you like this", he whispers against your ear, "One day, I'm going to draw this out, make you cum like this, I promise."

He's still whispering when he lays you down on the bed, Victoria is settling against the headrest, once again away from both of you. Thomas is getting lube and a condom out of the drawer of your nightstand, settling between your legs afterwards.

"Look at Vic", he tells you when he's getting out of his jeans half way before he looks at you again. Seeing that you still look at him, he grabs your chin making you look at her, holding you in place. You can hear his clothes rustle, you want to watch him undress but instead you see how Victoria is getting rid of her bralette. Realising that this is the first time all three of you are going to be completely naked, you moan again.

Holding you by the waist, he's standing between your legs at the edge of the bed. Pushing his cock into you steadily, it's not slow but it's not too fast either, it's a nice pace. He gives you time to get used to him before he thrusts into you a little bit harder. He's still holding your chin with one hand, the other one on your waist, you still can't look at him. As he loosens his grip, you think you're in luck. But you rejoiced too soon.

"Sit on her face, Vic."

To your surprise she's doing what he asked her to do without objections. She moves and in the next moment, there's only Vic again, no chance of seeing him, only your nose against her clit. You try concentrating on licking her, but both of them are making it hard. Thomas still fucking into you, getting a bit more careless and both of them talking.

"Nice of you to show me your back." You can make out Thomas' voice. Still you're just trying to pleasure Victoria on top of you. Pushing your tongue into her pussy a tiny bit, then licking around her clit. You're more than aware of the noises you make. Tiny whimpers and louder moans when Thomas thrusts into you just right. But all of them muffled because of Victoria on top of you.

"Who said I wanna see your dick", Vic says, pressing herself against your face, "I'm just here to enjoy your girlfriend."

"You said can't wait to watch." She starts laughing at the imitation he does of her, you can hear it, you can feel it as well. Vic slightly shaking on top of you, making you loose your rhythm, pulling your head back. You're louder now, trying not to make so much sound, you kiss Victoria's stomach.

She is turning around in the end, doing him yet another favour, you think but she proves you wrong with her next words: "I only did this to see if you're really this good. God, the noises she makes."

"I know." He sounds as breathless as you feel. "She does."

"I'm still here you two", you whimper.

"Also you could have just said that you want to see more tits."

Maybe they are ignoring your words on purpose, maybe they're just too invested in their little fight. You can't really tell, and you don't even care that much. They're not ignoring you in all the other ways they could. Thomas still pushing into you, Victoria - moaning when you lick her clit another time - placing her hands on your ribcage, just a bit higher up than Thomas' hands on your waist. Scratches on your skin from Vic, Thomas digging his nails into your skin. It's like a silent bet between them, who can get more noise out of you. Fighting for dominance, but not with you. It's between them, fighting who's better.

"Honey, I know he fucks you good but can you concentrate on me?"

You are trying, you are trying to just concentrate on her. To just. But Thomas is pulling out and thrusting in deeper, probably the opposite of what she wanted. You moan against her warm skin, your thighs shaking when he repeats the movement, you're almost certain that he's smirking.

"Thomas, stop this!" Victoria tells him, her voice stern. "Fucking stop. I'm real close."

One of her fingers is joining your tongue, touching herself. Your hands are useless, except for holding her thighs in place when she moves so much that you can't keep up with her anymore. Thomas actually does slow down, isn't going as fast anymore, not as deep. Changing his rhythm, but he knows what he's doing, it still feels as good. Vic is getting her other hand in your hair, pressing herself closer against your tongue, pulling your hair. She's getting louder as well, bucking more against your face and when you flick your tongue against her clit quickly a few times, you can feel her thighs tensing before she slows down, moaning loudly. Getting slower and slower, stopping completely after a few more licks from your tongue. Vaguely you notice that Thomas tells her to get off you and not even a few seconds later, his lips are on yours, kissing you passionately.

"I'm close as well, fuck", he whispers against your face. Somewhere against your cheekbone, somewhere between your eye and your ear.

You want to say something, but finally seeing his face, seeing his sweaty fringe clinging to his forehead, is short circuiting all your senses and your brain. In the end you say nothing, digging your nails into his shoulder blades, letting him kiss you another time. You can feel how he looses his rhythm for mere seconds, moaning against your lips, then against your neck.

You're so close but it's not enough, he's thumbing at your clit but it isn't helping and when Thomas pulls out completely after thrusting into you a few more times, you mewl at the loss.

"Shhh." He get's rid of the condom, lying down, pressing his face against your neck again. Lightly using his teeth.

There's no need to ask, before you can even think about it, he already pushes two of his narrow fingers into you. His mouth and his tongue are moving down your neck, down your shoulder, until he kisses your nipple. He's gently sucking on it, you tangle your own fingers in his messy hair. Knowing that you're whimpering, you try to to hide your face in the sheets but Vic is there, holding your face in her hands: "Having these long fingers in you feels good?"

You can't do more than nod. Thomas is moving his head up again, up your shoulders, up your neck until he reaches your ear.

"My hand's getting tired", he whispers so Victoria can't hear him but you still see her raising her eyebrows when she kisses your forehead.

"Just a bit longer", with the hand that's not tangled in his hair, you grab his wrist, so he doesn't even has a chance to pull them out. "Please."

There's another kiss on your forehead, Thomas breathing against your ear. It's a lot, you just don't know why it isn't enough. You're bucking your hips to meet his movements, he's still thumbing your clit now and then and it feels so good but it's still not enough.

"I can finger you as well", you hear Vic say, pressing a kiss to your lips, brushing your chin with her nose.

You just shake your head. It's not what you want, definitely not what you need, you know that much. You want him.

"Tell me what you need", first he's kissing right under your ear, then your chin, pressing his face against your neck once again, "Come on."

"I - I don't know." It's coming out as a whine. You really don't know, you wish you would. Nothing is enough, you need more. You're still pulling on his hair with one hand, grabbing his wrist with the other. When he notices that something isn't working either, he changes his angle and his rhythm slightly, leaving more kisses all over your neck.

"Oh cara!" You're so close to let him stop, to just give up on it, so close to telling him to stop. You're sobbing, you want to tell him but then there's a third finger, he's only pushing it into you until the first knuckle. Waiting for your reaction but you're just trying to get more of him. "More?"

"Please." That's the more you wanted, needed. You're clenching down on his fingers, feeling the tingling going through your whole body. It feels so good. You want to tell him that it was worth it to keep going, you want to say thank you, but the next wave of pleasure is hitting you and you forget that you even had the thought a second ago. A painful little yelp is coming from him, when you scratch his scalp. Your grip around his wrist is so loose by now, that he could easily pull away, he isn't doing anything like it, just keeps his hand in place, so you can ride your orgasm out.

"Good?", he asks. Only pulling his hand away when you stop moving completely and you can feel him stretching his fingers against your legs.

"God, yes."

Cuddling closer to him, you want to pull Victoria closer as well but she's already half way out of the bed when you reach for her. You are too blissed out, rubbing your nose against his neck. Just clinging to his sweaty body, letting him carress you, to say or to question anything.

"What are you doing, Vic?" Even with how blissed out you are, you can still hear the slight worry in his voice.

"Shower", she isn't saying anything else and leaves the room with her bralette in her hands.

Thomas next to you inhales deeply, kissing your forehead, drawing abstract things on your stomach. If he wouldn't tell you, to get up, you could have fallen asleep like this. There's noise coming from the front door as well, which has him furrowing his eyebrows together.

***

When you both get into your hallway, you can see how Victoria is putting on her shoes, not saying anything.

"What are you doing?", Thomas asks again. Like he did earlier already. "You just gonna leave?"

"Well, I guess you two got what you wanted, so yes, I'm just gonna leave", she isn't looking at him. Neither is she looking at you.

Hurt is one way to describe the expression on Thomas' face. "We invited you for dinner."

"Yeah sure, but let's be honest here. You invited me for dinner because of this", this time she is looking at him, already looking like she's half way out of the door she just opened, "but I can go now, because it happend already anyways."

"Vic!" The tone of his voice is so painful it almost makes you flinch "Vic, please!"

"It's ok, don't worry your pretty head", even though she doesn't look like she is believing what she just said, she repeats herself: "It's okay."

"Vic", you try, "We didn't invite you because of that, we wanted you over because of you."

"Can we please talk about this?" His voice is barely audible but Victoria looks at him now. "That's why I asked you to come over. Vic, please."

She closes the door again and you can hear Thomas sharply exhale, apparently he had been holding his breath.

"Can you order food?", you ask her and she nods, "Whatever you want to go for. Just going to shower and then we can sit down."

***

Thomas and you are both in the bathroom, both of you getting dressed. Worry is still clearly visible in his eyes.

"Hey!"

"I want to throw up", he's pulling you into a hug. And you have to admit that he does look a bit sick, more anxious than you have seen him in a while. "I'm going to fuck it up for real."

"It's Vic, it's going to be fine, you'll see."

***

"I ordered pizza." Victoria is sitting on the armchair again, but she pushed it so it's opposite the couch on which Thomas and you are sitting down again. "You know that you don't have to sit me down to tell me what I already know?"

"What do you think is going on?", he asks her.

"Well you kind of ignored me for the past two weeks even though we see eachother every day, and it made it really hard", and akward you think but you don't say anything, "what should I think about that, you tell me, Thomas!?"

You're almost happy that the doorbell is interrupting the conversation. Getting up so fast that you almost fall over a stack of guitar magazines Thomas left next to the couch and some art utensils you left almost right next to them. I got it, I got it is what you're mumbling. More to yourself than to them. It's just that you have the feeling this part of the conversation should be between them. Thomas is the one who tried to avoid her the last weeks, you didn't, still talking to her, texting her and she deserves an explanation without you hanging around.

"Vic, you're my best friend, I don't want anything to change that and I don't want it to be awkward."

You drop the food on the small table between them and go to the kitchen to grab some plates and glasses for all of you.

"I'm sorry. I just needed time to think because I don't want to fuck things up between us just because of sex, that's just not worth it for me."

That's what you can hear of the conversation. Otherwise there's silence, Victoria isn't saying anything.

"Even though it's good, don't get me wrong."

You decide to go back in the living room, even if it's just to interrupt the silence for a bit. Placing the plates and glasses on the table.

"Did you think about it?", you ask him. It's the same thing he told you, when you asked about it. That he wants to think about him.

"Yeah."

"Before you say something, can I?", he just nods and Victoria goes on, "I know Dami and Ethan are making a lot of fun of me thirdwheeling and I guess, they are right. I don't mean this thing here. I mean ... I was feeling really lonely after my break up, I never really said that that happened but I guess you figured it out with all my whiny I'm feeling shit texts and ... well we fucked, and you two always let me come over and took Chili and me for walks and you let me sleep in your bed with your girlfriend when we were drunk, sleeping on the couch yourself and you never complained and it made me feel better about myself. And the sex was a nice extra but I'm happy to just go back to before or leave you alone for a bit if you need ... if you want that."

"We ...", you can see the blush on his cheeks, "we can do this again if we all want to but I thought of some things, if that's okay?"

Victoria nods, you can see that she can't quite believe what she heard.

"Sure." There's nothing else you have to say, you know.

"Only sometimes?", he looks at you before he looks back at Vic, "I'm always happy to see you and everything but when I ... we say no for whatever reason, I don't want you to be pissed with me like when we went out the last time. I don't want to feel bad about it, I don't want you to tell me that I abandoned you or that you think that, because I didn't do that."

"I was a real pain that evening and I should apologise", avoiding eye contact apparently isn't only a Thomas thing to do anymore when talking stuff out, "I don't want you to feel like this, neither of you two and I'm sorry that I was such a dick, I should have said how I felt without blaming it all on you only."

"Hmm, apology accepted. Just ... please don't do it again." If the topic would be something different, you would laugh. Looking at both of them, fixating areas at the walls instead of looking at eachother. "No hard feelings if anyone of us wants to end this, in whatever combination or for whatever reason, ok?"

Victoria and you both nod and you smile at him when he stops staring at the wall, looking at you instead.

"Only when we three are all together." He's nervously picking at his nails, at his nail polish, his cuticles. You know that he's short of biting them as well, everything just radiates anxiety from him, still. Even with the conversation going into a good direction for all of you.

"I don't want to steal your girlfriend for real, I want this because I get you both together and I don't want you to think anything like that, so whatever you want really." This time they're both looking at eachother before looking at you.

You brush one of the strands of hair that has fallen into his face behind his ear, when he closes his eyes: "And I don't want to have sex without you."

"Good", he looks at you again for a milisecond, "No teasing during band practice, please. It's embarrassing, a lot actually and i don't mind them knowing ... I guess, but I don't want to be made fun off 24/7 either and like ... can we keep it in the bedroom."

"I get that", Victoria starts - avoiding looking at both of you again, "I'm not going to do it again. Just - just, Ethan knows."

"What?" Thomas and you almost say in unison.

"I had to talk to someone, I needed advice and ... well I kind of couldn't come up with a believable excuse why I knew some things", Victoria isn't as anxious as Thomas earlier but it's clear that she would have liked to avoid this part a little bit longer. "Getting you so drunk that you broke and spilled didn't make the cut with Ethan."

"Next one", he says and you can see the blush that never went away completely deepening again, "Stop betting on my sex life, for fucks sake."

Maybe you should feel at least a little bit bad that you would have laughed, if you wouldn't have bitten your lip. Victoria is just nodding, Thomas not the only person in the room who's afraid of fucking things up.

"No touching", he gestures between them, it's the rule he already had the first time, "Like ... I took your hand earlier, that's okay with me. Move me around, if you have to, just not ... Not ... I ... it ... I would feel weird? I don't want that, I think, sorry."

"Thomas, stop apologising." So many times you told him already and still he's apologising for expressing his boundaries.

"It's okay", you can feel her eyes on you and this time you chuckle when you hear what she has to say, "You know, you can just say that I shouldn't touch you like other people in the room are allowed to, I'm ok with this. Honestly you could say that I'm just allowed to watch and I'll just watch you two doing it missionary."

"You really do like to watch, huh?"

"You get off on being watched. Win-win, it's what I call that." It's nice to see them going back to being more normal, not threating that lightly anymore, "But for real that would be fine with me, whatever you want to share of whatever you have going on here, except for the obvious."

"I really don't know what you think. It's really not interesting Vic. Mostly it's I'm busy." He starts.

"I'm tired." You continue.

"What do you want to eat."

"Let's just cuddle."

"My hand is cramping, because I would only admit that I'm hurt and tired from practice when someone is about to shoot me", he admits, "And well it's ... it's far from sexy, I guess."

"Sometimes one just isn't coming when we do have sex."

"Or neither."

"Or we just go on a walk with Chili and you, watching something stupid, literally anything else."

"I see what you're doing here, you're doing this to get custody of my dog." Finally it's back to joking in the middle of an honest conversation, back to some of your shared normality.

"That's the end goal, yes!" If there's one thing, you always like to hear, it's his laugh and it makes you happy to hear it right now. "Sorry for ... whatever this rant was but probably better to tell you that now and I'm fine with just spending time like this."

"Uhm ......" It's easy to see that Victoria is avoiding his gaze again, even when he assures her that she can just spit it out, "Yes, probably. Just ... I thought of something. I- I still get hugs and everything from you, right?"

"Come here."

Like a cat, you curl up into his side a little bit more. He pulls Vic down on the couch, putting one arm around you, one around her.

"I love you", he looks at you before he kisses you right under your left eye. Then he buries his nose in Vic's hair, kissing her head. "I love you too. Just differently."

There's movement, then there's a kiss on his cheekbone: "Sorry, is that okay?"

"Hmmm, yeah." His eyes are closed and you smile at Vic who kisses your forehead.

"I guess our food is cold now?"

Thomas and you both laugh.

***

"I can really go home, Thomas."

You're brushing your teeth but you can still hear them through the door.

"It's the middle of the night. I don't care that you only need 10 minutes to walk home from here." He's right, you think. "If you want to sleep on the couch, be my guest, there's really no need for that though, just sleep in a bed with us."

"Sorry, it's just ..."

"Vic, just be like you normally are. If something isn't working or wrong or whatever, she's gonna say something, or you, or I, we just going to talk it out again. We shared so many beds together, that's the last thing we should make a problem now."

"You think, she's really ok with this?"

She's surprised when you hug her from behind: "I had plenty of chances to say something earlier. Yes, I'm okay with this and you're not sleeping on the couch."

"Just don't touch my dick and you're fine." Just when he's passing her to go into the bathroom himself, he yelps. "What the fuck?"

"You didn't say, I'm not allowed to slap your ass anymore."

It's hard not to laugh at the face he's pulling before he closes the door behind him, so you aren't pretending to try.

"There's a spare toothbrush in the mirror cabinet, it's yours."

"Good that I left Chili with my family", she says while she turns in your arms.

You kiss her temple: "Just bring her over as well next time."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot, that's your plan here, you two want to steal Chili. He admitted it even." Both of you are still laughing when Thomas comes out of the bathroom again. "Dog thief."

***

Thomas and you are already in bed when Vic is still in the bathroom.

"I love you", hair is tickling you when you kiss his chin, "And see, everything is okay."

"Sorry for putting it off for so long", he sounds tired, "I was scared it wouldn't be."

Before you can answer properly, Vic comes in, getting into bed herself. Choosing Thomas' other side, cuddling closer.

"Thank you!", you hear Vic mumble before you fall asleep.

When you wake up, it's still dark outside, your phone shows that it's 3:30, meaning that you only slept about an hour. There is Vic's voice as well, slowly realising that Victoria talking is what woke you up in the first place.

You can hear Thomas murmur, then you hear Vic speaking to him: "Sorry, I just woke you up because you said no touching like this. I know how much you hate being woken up when you fell asleep without any trouble."

"What's going on?" God, you sound tired.

"Just humping the wrong leg here."

"Vic", he whines, "I'm sorry."

"Thomas, I already told you, don't apologise for everything." Not that you think, that telling him once again, is changing much but you still have hope.

To get out of bed, he tries to roll over you but before he can get out you stop him, holding him by his hips. "I'm just going to the bathroom, it's okay, I'm just going to get myself off."

"Yeah, or you can show me that really boring sex you have?"

From his eyes you can see how he asks the question without saying anything. Can we?

You're tired but you can feel his cock twitch against your thigh and you pull him in for a kiss, hoping that answers his question without you having to talk.

Vic throws the lube and a condom next to you, obviously having already learned where you keep things like these, while you two are getting undressed.

You grab his hand: "You fucked me a few hours ago, it's okay. Just use more lube."

Yawning against your shoulder, he reaches for the condom. For his cock, then for the lube. Then for you. He's so slow, gentle, pushing into you, so so slow. Any other time you would have said it's painfully slow. But you're both tired and it feels surprisingly good, so does the slight stretch. Lazily he's kissing every inch of skin, he can reach. Sleepy, he's so sleepy - you can see it, he has his eyes half closed.

You grab his hand before he can push it further down your body. There's no need for you to cum, not like earlier, you just want to enjoy this for whatever it is. In the dim light, which Vic must have turned on, you can see her. She's fingering herself lazily but as you, she doesn't seem like she has the need to achieve anything.

Thomas on the other hand is. His voice sounds softer as usual, his moans quieter, tongue poking out slightly, all his movements delicate and just a little bit delayed. He's not trying to drag it out as he sometimes does, just giving into both your motions. His hips stutter against you, he's quietly moaning against your collarbone and you can feel him quivering. All his movements stop after, his breathing evening out again.

"Hey, sleepyhead", you laugh, "can you at least pull out before you fall asleep on me."

He groans but he still rolls off your body, almost falling out of the bed when he rolls a bit too far. There's a snapping sound of latex and Thomas groaning before he rolls back on top of you, already almost asleep again like a dead starfish.

"Yep, I like this as well."

***

You did hear Thomas coming into the kitchen but it's better like this. When he hugs you from you behind, saying Good Morning against your ear and kissing your temple.

He whispers: "Thank you for -"

"Don't." There's no need for it. "I'm making coffee before you both have to leave."

"Good, breakfast in bed." He's still behind you, only in his briefs and a bandshirt that looks like it lived longer than him by now. "Perfect."

"Band practice?" You are a tiny bit confused but you laugh at the fact that he probably forgot, not for the first time.

Now it's on him to laugh: "Cancelled!"

"How come?"

"Ethan isn't feeling well." It makes sense, you think, you have never seen them giving up on practice except they really had to but you still are suspicious. Just because one isn't feeling too well, doesn't mean anything. "I told them, I'm also not 100% fit."

"You are a liar", you laugh again, "you mean, you're just tired."

"Whatever. Damiano agreed with both of us there's no sense in going through with it for today."

There's something that he said, that get's your ears peaking up. Both of us. It doesn't sound like Ethan to talk his way out of band practice, not even when sick. "You got Ethan to lie for you, didn't you?"

"Well", he starts, stealing one of the strawberries you wanted to have with your yoghurt for breakfast, "He owes me at least 50 favours for this sex betting business, no?"

You shake your head in disbelieve but kiss him nonetheless. "Go tell Vic then, or wake her up, I'm making breakfast."

***

When you go back to your bedroom, you don't hear them, but you can hear something. Vic has her head laying on his stomach, both looking at Thomas' laptop which is balanced on his legs. You can see that they're watching some nonsense guitar video and all you can do is sigh: "I got myself another one of these, hmm?"

Thomas mouths something that looks like Sorry into your direction. It probably must have sounded like a complaint, but it's not. He doesn't complain about your job or your hobbies you love and that he's spending hours with you on these things as well, so you wouldn't complain for real about anything like this.

"Food!" Victoria almost screams when she sees you, having you almost drop the tray before you can safely drop it onto the nightstand. "Sorry, I'm hungry."

You eat in comfortable silence. The video playing in the background, getting you into an endless loop of more guitar videos. Telling Thomas not to leave crumbs all over the place now and then, who only grumbles in response.

When you take something from his plate the first time, he doesn't say anything. Victoria stealing a blueberry from his plate has him raise one of his eyebrows. You taking a sip from his coffee instead of your orange juice, gets you a funny look. Vic stealing yet more blueberries, gets to him: "What are you doing?"

"What?", Victoria and you ask at the same time.

"That's my food."

"Communism, Thomas", you say and Vic is quick to agree with you. He gives you a pout and he's still pouting after you give him a kiss on the lips. "You have to share."

He sighs.

"And here I was thinking that I already share enough."

***

Taglist: @teatrodellavita, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @findoutwhoyougonnacall, @little-moonbeam-666, @its-afucking-mess, @maneskinbrainrot, @writingmaneskin, @ethaneskin, @maneskin-dimensione, @l0standn0tf0und, @butkutee

#thomas raggi x reader #victoria de angelis x reader #maneskin x reader #maneskin fiction #maneskin imagine #vic de angelis x reader #my writing #fanfic #maneskin smut #maneskin #måneskin #thomas raggi #victoria de angelis #if only a few people don't find this completely bad i'm already happy. i guess.#i'm going back to my blurbs and to the idiots to lovers that i did start #:writing.#:all.

122 notes · View notes

incorrectbatfam · 4 years ago

Note

Got any more batfam dreams?

I'm at a gay bar, and at the time I had this dream, I was underaged and using a fake ID. I'm sitting at the bar with my girlfriend and an empty seat beside me. Jason walks in with a Daft Punk type of helmet tucked under his arm and wearing a NASCAR driver uniform. He orders a beer, takes a sip, complains it's too cold, and asks the bartender to microwave it for him. At this point, I'm like "what the f—" but he stops me and checks over his shoulder before whispering, "It's to degrade the microchips. They're after us." He then distracts my girlfriend so she walks away and takes me behind the building, where he pulls up a map of my city and points to one of my university's lecture halls. At some point I change out of my clubbing dress into an all-black spy uniform but I don't remember the details. We somehow end up there, where, despite it being nighttime, a philosophy lecture is being held by a panel of 5-6 funeral directors. Jason sits me down in the back row and hands me a loaded crossbow. He tells me to watch the second guy and shoot when the guy takes a sip of his water. After a whole debate about the validity of evolution, the second guy picks up his water and I shoot. The arrow goes straight through the glass and into the guy's hand and all hell breaks loose. Me and a classmate that I recognize corral the students out while Jason starts gunning down those funeral directors, and I discover a bunch of cocaine bricks and chewed gum in the desk drawer.

Tim drops his fried egg on the road and starts crying.

Tim, Bruce, and I are at one of the Kitchen Nightmares restaurants pre-renovations. I order a chocolate cake while Tim orders some kind of shrimp dish and Bruce gets a burger. When we get our food, it turns out the kitchen combines the entire table's orders into one dish as the restaurant's signature gimmick or whatever, so it's a chocolate cake with shrimps baked into it and frosted with pulverized hamburger patties and cheese.

Dick's chilling on top of my apartment building as Nightwing, eating a tomato like an apple. I ask him where he got the tomato and he reveals this whole tote bag of produce that he confiscated from a robber.

Not batfam, but there's a dream where I'm doing one-on-one tutoring with Jon, who's struggling with multiplication tables, and he keeps insisting that 13 is a multiple of 3.

Jason offers me pot brownies at a Rise Against concert.

I'm having dinner at Wayne Manor with Bruce and somehow we get onto the topic of serial killers, and I rant about how there are people out there seriously making pastel flower crown edits of Ted Bundy just because he was good-looking. Bruce then reveals that he is Ted Bundy.

My friends and I are watching Interstellar in theaters. Steph is in the front row on her phone live-tweeting spoilers. My friend throws a piece of popcorn at her to get her to stop, because her screen is lighting up the whole room. Without looking up from her phone, she gives him the middle finger.

Barbara adds me on Facebook (note: I don't even have a Facebook), tags me in a bunch of pictures that I'm not in, and then sends me a private message asking if I'm interested in buying a couch.

(Also not batfam.) Hal Jordan and Jaime Reyes crash-land in the quad of my school. They then ask me and my study group for directions to the nanotechnology lab, so we lead them to the building that is absolutely not the nanotechnology lab. We then navigate the maze of basement hallways until we reach a small room holding multiple vending machines. Hal opens his lantern, which is filled to the brim with dollar coins, and puts one into the vending machine. He gets multiple bags of chips, and gives me a chili cheese Fritos, saying, "The fate of the solar system now rests in your hands." I can't figure out what that means, but literally nothing dramatic happens for the rest of the dream.

(Again, not batfam.) Bart Allen enrolls in my sophomore physics class the day before the last midterm. He asks me how he can get caught up on everything, so I show him to the library, where he speed-reads everything on the shelves. Then he tells me he's hungry so we go to a Mediterranean restaurant, where the only thing on the menu is hummus. As we're waiting for the food, he twiddles with the corner of his napkin and says, "You know what's sad? When you die, there will be people who mourn the person they thought you were instead of who you really are, and they'll take their idea of you with them into their graves." After that, we get our food and, among other things, he's served a whole bell pepper that he cuts with the butter knife and puts in his ice water.

#ask #anonymous #personal #batfamily #batfam #batclan #batman family #dc comics #tw violence mention #tw food mention #tw alcohol mention #tw death mention #tw drug mention

88 notes · View notes

imfiguringitoutlovely · 4 years ago

Text

you've got bad eyesight||tomura shigaraki bf hcs

pairing: tomura shigaraki x gn!reader

type: fluff, angst

warnings: reader feels insecure abt eyesight :((

author's note: um. more writing for me 😳 as someone with irreparable bad eyesight, like...really really bad eyesight, i just need the person reassurance but i don't talk about it much bc i feel annoying... so here's this!! reader is NOT blind and nearsightedness/farsightedness is not specified. also reader is said to be 23 but it was just for a lil joke

ALSO i intended for this to be much longer but ironically my eyes started not focusing and i didn't wanna push it 😅 im editing rn and yIkes

you don't remember the last time you were able to get through a couple waking hours without glasses. over the years, your eyes had just gotten worse and worse until it was almost impossible to keep up with your constantly strengthening prescription

being with a villain didn't make it much easier. it wasn't his fault that it was so difficult, and you knew that. optometrists were very very rare underground and those that were accessible were often very shady

the last thing shiggy wanted was for your eyes to be completely destroyed

so often times it took about a month to find a new doctor to help bc going to the same doctor every time could be fatal if there were to be any leaks of info

this meant, unfortunately, that for long periods of time your eyesight was off.

your eyes strain, and you have headaches. action/fast movement is hard to visually process and can make you dizzy. you miss things that could seem really obviously right in front of you because your eyes can only focus on so much and your depth perception isn't the best. it causes a lot of daily issues, and you've often been teased or scolded because of it. people see you as clumsy, careless, a liar...

but not shiggy. no, he would NEVER

shiggy loves you. he accepts you. and that meand accepting the fact that you were gonna need some support snd reassurance, not pity.

he treated you like his equal AND made sure you got the support you needed the same way you did for him. however... well... you weren't always honest.

right now, the LOV was working on a big operation. tomura was dealing with a lot of meetings, a lot of planning, and a lot of stress. he'd grown so much since the start of the league, and you were so proud of him, but the pressure still got to him. you couldn't add to that...right?

so your eyes had been getting worse and worse. days passed. then weeks. and then it was months with your eyes refusing to do their job. headaches, dizziness, small accidents now and again. slowly it got stronger. it started consuming your life.

it was breaking you down inside. and one day the glasses just stopped cutting it. your eyes were focusing in and out, your head was throbbing, you could barely make out your surroundings, and you were dizzy everytime you turned. shigaraki had texted you because he left for work early, but you took a while to even find a way to read it right.

in fact it took so long that he texted you again because he was concerned about how long it was taking you to respond.

"i had another meeting today. twice is going to drop me off by lunch. do you need me to pick anything up?"

yeah, he texted in complete sentences. but only with you-

"are you sleeping in?"

he wasn't controlling. you just normally woke up around the same time and it was rare for you to not respond asap. he was paranoid, and why wouldn't he be? you were the same way with him. but you couldn't type out the text right and speech to text wasn't working very well, so you sent him a voice message.

the problem was that you had gotten so frustrated that now you had the post-cry voice. you'd bumped your shoulder and leg on your way to the bathroom, nearly tripped over your own slippers, and it was just all too much. how could you barely read texts? how could you not type on your own phone? how could you be such a mess?

"h-hey shiggy. sorry, it took me a while to actually respond...um... just some advil maybe? if you can. um. if not it's ok... thank you, shiggy."

he was giving his potential ally time to think through the offers he'd put front when he heard your message.

immediately, he stepped out and talked to both twice and toga. he sent them to be with you, to pick up the advil on the way, and to wait with you until he was done.

toga and jin were there so fast. you were part of the family, afterall. you'd been there since the start, even if you had stepped down from your role as a fighter when a particular fight worsened your eyesight. they got you your advil, though, and quickly let tomura know you were safe.

when tomura got home, you were curled up in bed, not really wanting to talk to either one of your friends. they were in the living room, watching tv very quietly but their thoughts on you.

"in the room." toga smiled slightly to tomura, but it came off as a bit uneasy. upset, but she was never really one to like showing that part of her. still, shiggy picked up on it and walked past the duo to get to the bedroom. they hadn't even talked about how the meeting ended becausr they knew it was second priority here.

"[Y/nn]?" he took in how the lights were all off and the blinds were more drawn than usual. he noticed how you were all curled up, facing away from the door with your glasses pushed to a corner of the bed out of your immediate reach.

then he noticed how quickly you sat up when you realized it was him, how you tossed the blankets aside a bit and reached for your lenses. he took in how you stumbled over his name and sniffled right after before turning away briefly to wipe your face.

"Crying?" he sighed. not out of annoyance, but your insecurities took over and you stumbled to explain yourself.

"No, no. Crying? I- No. Come on, I'm a big kid now," you tried to joke. "Level 23 human right here, remember?"

"Well you're treating me like a toddler again. You asked for Advil. I'll ask Toga to find another doctor."

"How was your meeting?"

"Are your glasses even working at all?"

"Did they say yes? What did they think about the training deal?"

"You need to talk to me about this." he started scratching and you immediately felt guilty. you couldn't even see his hand moving all too clearly.

"They're just glasses, Tomura."

"You're frustrated. You're locking yourself away from everyone."

"I can handle myself-"

"It's ok to ask us for help-"

"I WAS A VILLAIN, TOO, YOU KNOW?! AND I WAS DAMN GOOD AT FIGHTING AND-AND LOOKING OUT FOR MYSELF!" washed up and bitter at 23. tears started spilling. you were on your feet and your frustration just spilled out. "I don't need to be babied or cradled and-and I don't need to go crying at your feet whenever I've got a little owie, so stop being so patro-!"

between your tears and your fucked up vision, you tripped over a leg on the bed rounding towards your boyfriend across the room. you stubbed your toe and stepped back only to lose your balance and lean forward harshly. of course, guess who was there to catch you? no, shigaraki wasn't a fantastic person. but he did his best to be an ok boyfriend.

after the initial shock, you pushed yourself away from him and stumbled back. "N-No! No, I don't need protecting! I'm fine, I'm ok! I'm ok! I'm-I'm... I already put enough...enough on..." he tears took over. the agony of not even being able to fight for yourself was...beyond words and you were starting to wonder why the hell you were trying. then he hugged you.

then your boyfriend wrapped his cold, deadly arms around you and made you feel so damn warm and safe from the world that you let it out. he wasn't good for words with this, and was cautious with his fingers which made it a bit awkward for him, but he was there. and he wasn't even mad.

from then on out, getting eye exams becomes a consistent part of your monthly routine. and if you missed a month, it was only because it was absolutely vital you stay as hidden as possible. you ended up having to return to several doctors, but tomura made sure none of them even THOUGHT about leaking info about you or the rest of the league :)

you're really hesitant to accept the help for a while, but you notice it helps relieve some stress from both of you, and with everything going on, you figured it was the bare minimum for what you could do to help.

no, your eyes don't magically heal... but as bad as they get, tomura supports you

you start getting called the "crusty couple" because of his lips and your dry eyes-

better eye care means you can engage a bit more with tomuras gaming habits. it gives you two some really nice bonding time together.

no eyelid kisses bc he's a bit insecure abt his lips, but he will gently give you head massages to help with the eye strain headaches when you need to rest them after long days. with gloves, of course, he can't trust himself-

dabi says it's best that your eyes don't work so you don't have to experience the horror of the hands or cracking lips before you kiss him. you have to reassure tomura that it doesn't bug you but you do find it kind of funny-

eventually, you get a dog to help. it just gets too bad for you to go day to day on your own, so you get a trained dog that shiggy pretends to hate. but he loves that dog because you end up with tons of less bruising and trouble taking care of yourself.

overall, tomura is really supportive. at times, he may come off as annoyed or insensitive but he's just worried and frustrated that he can't do more. he'll still throw an occasional lil fit abt how you deserve better than those problems, but you always assure him that he helps plenty. :)

#bnha tomura #x male reader #xmale!readerblog #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #mha hcs #bnha #tomura headcanons #tomura shigaraki #my hero x reader #headcanon #bad eyesight #read with me lovelies

123 notes · View notes

tatertotthethot · 5 years ago

Text

The Doms Next Door 2.0

THIS IS A TEMPORARY REUPLOAD FOR THIS CHAPTER CUZ TUMBLR IS RAN BY A BUNCH OF BOTS. 2.1 HERE

Warnings/AN: frequent, casually cursing; comical, gay Jimin; insecure reader; steamy flirting; tattoo/sexualized Tae 🙃. Enjoy~ (TAEKOOK EDIT ABOVE IS ARTKOOK DONE BY NONCONMAN ON INSTAGRAM)

_________________________________

Your tires came to a stop outside of the tattoo shop you've seen online— a brick building, covered in spray paint and street-style art. A sign buzzed over the awning of the entrance doors, with the built-in UV lights and graffiti-styled font displaying the name of the place in neon-red letters. Kink For Ink! The name alone was what first caught your attention last week, when you Googled "Tattoo shops near me" and it pulled up a list, with "Kink For Ink" being the first option. It just seemed so uncanny and fitting at the time, considering the previous run-in you just had with the sex-crazed neighbors a couple nights before. You couldn't help but to click the link to their Instagram.

A profile came up with 53.4k followers, which immediately blew your mind... but you quickly saw why. Every tattoo and piercing, no matter the body-placement, skin-type, or quirky design, was vividly appealing— certainly done by the articulate hands of certified experts. Even in the comments of the piercings that were posted, people were praising them for the "minimal" amount of pain they experienced, despite the fact that some of piercings were done in places you couldn't even fathom the thought of having a needle jammed through.

It said in the bio that the shop is owned by the two artists that work there— Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. You couldn't find out much about them, all their pictures showed was their work. You even went back to search for a personal account of their own, but nothing came up. You then went back to the bio and clicked a link to the official website, hoping to find out something, but you were met with a disclaimer rule at the top that automatically deemed your chances of even getting your piece done by them, slim-to-none.

• No walk-ins allowed.

• Every request/idea must be sent in through the DMs of our Instagram page. You will only be accepted only if it spikes our personal interests.

Yikes; You were instantly discouraged by this. The piece you wanted was something so common and cliché, that you actually got the image out of a child's coloring book.... It was the cartoon layout of the glass vase and enchanted rose, from the Beauty and the Beast movie. Cheesy, yes. But it was something of personal, nostalgic value. You remember when you were little— roughly around 3 or 4 years of age— when your parents started fighting and would spend all day screaming and throwing things at each other, putting you in a constant state of anxiety. But then you'd go to bed at night and pop the VHS tape, and the movie never failed to put you in a peaceful state of mind— a hopeful one. It's remained as your all-time favorite love story throughout the years. Which, is ironic, considering that the relationship itself was different, but almost as dysfunctional as your parent's. However, the fact that even the Beast was capable of change, and everything wound up so perfect and happy in the end, makes your heart happy. And even now, at age 19, it still puts you in your feelings. The previous remake of a movie is what actually inspired you to get the enchanted rose as a tattoo, after seeing it in 3D not too long ago. But you're only willing to shell out up to $200 for it, at most. You've just started college, and even though Jimin's parents own the house and let the two of you live there, rent free, you're still responsible for half the utility bills from month to month. Blowing every bit of money you have saved up, right at the start of the semester, would just be irresponsible. But $200 was manageable, and you're looking for anything that'll give you a little extra "oomph" to break you out of this introverted shell you've always known. Pushing it off would just delay it, and you were ready for change. The nose piercing you want is just a small little thing that'll hopefully add a bit of flare to the features of your face. These two guys could probably do the piercing/tattoo with a blindfold on and a hand tied behind their back. So, if it meant that you'd be able to get these things done in confidence, without having to worry about the outcome, you figured it wouldn't hurt for you to at least ask, even if they straight-up ignore you. So, after spending an unnecessary amount of time overthinking the wording of your text, you finally constructed a message in your notes and DM'd it to business page, after sending them a small, simple outline of the cartoony rose, and pressed send.

• You: Hello! I've been wanting to get this tattoo done for a very while now, and was hoping one of you will be willing to do it for me... along with piercing my nose? I know it's a very mediocre and cliché piece, and a nose piercing can be done anywhere. But I'm new to the area and I've never gotten a tattoo/piercing done before and I haven't really checked out any other places either because I found this page first. And from what I can see, you guys are pretty efficient and CRAZY talented. So, I trust it'll get done right.... only if you want to! I'm willing to pay $200 for this, but if it costs that much for just the outline I've sent then that's fine as well. But I understand if neither of you want to do it cuz that is really cheap compared to the ones I've seen lol. But either way, thx for ur time 😁

A few minutes went by and you had just unlocked your phone to check the message again, when the word "seen" popped below the message. You held your breath for a second— but seconds turned to minutes, and time went by with no reply, what-so-ever. You figured maybe you sounded a little too immature to take seriously; kind of like a prepubescent 12-year-old asking someone out for a dance... and you blew it. Which was disappointing, but predictable. So fuck it. Maybe it's a sign; you shouldn't get it after all.

11pm rolled around, many hours later. You were now hiding beneath your covers, beginning your "amateur threesome" exploration on PornHub. You were ready to see what this whole "2 guys, 1 girl" thing was all about. But just when you were about to type it into the search bar, you were interrupted by an Instagram notification dropping down from the top of your screen.

"KinkForInk sent you a message."

You audibly gasped, eyes turning to saucers as you clicked on the notif and switched over to the Instagram app.

• KinkForInk: Hi (Y/N). This is Tae, one of the artists of the shop. The tattoo you sent in is worth roughly $100... but I want to run an offer by you in hopes that you'll be interested.

— Your brows scrunched in oddity, stomach fluttering. An offer? For you?

• You: Okay, sure. What's that?

• KinkForInk: I've been looking for someone willing to showcase the custom design I've come up with, specifically for a much more... exclusive version of the Beauty and the Beast tattoo you sent. And if you'd be down for letting me and my partner put it on you, it'll be free. No charge. BUT you'll also have to sign a contract saying that you'll do a little bit of modeling for us once it's done. You think you'd be in to doing something like that, even if you get it?

— Your head spun for a second, reading the message over and over again until you could fully wrap your mind around what he was saying.

• You: Hold on... YOU wanna put a tattoo on ME so that I model for you? And it's FREE? Are you sure about this? I'm not even model material lol.

• KinkForInk: Yes, yes, and yes, you are. You'd be perfect for this.

• You: How do know that? Is it a face tattoo? Cuz I only have 6 selfies on here and you can't see anything past my shoulders.

—"Seen" came up as soon as you hit send, but a couple of minutes rolled by with no reply to the message, nor was he even typing. Maybe you came off a little rude. But it was already sketchy and it was a logical question.

— An image suddenly popped up: a screenshot of your Facebook profile. Then another— and much to your horror, it was the photo Jimin tagged you in last week, when the two of you were swimming at a local community pool. You were wearing a simple two piece, sitting at the foot of the lawn chair Jimin was also sitting in, as his legs were visible on either side of you and his lap was practically framing your ass. The photo was at an upward angle and looked so scandalous— but really, you had just asked Jimin to put sun screen on your back and he didn't want to stand up because the pavement was too hot against his bare feet. But you actually liked the picture at the time; it was just a silly joke and your ass actually looked quite nice from that angle. Plus, everyone knows nothing sexual actually goes on between the two of you, for obvious reasons. But Taehyung doesn't, so you couldn't help but dreadfully cringe when you saw the caption of the screen shot.

"Babymama 💦🍆"

• KinkForInk: Is this you??

• You: Yes, that's me. The caption is a joke tho... pay no mind to that. But this is like, really happening? You really think it'd look good on me?

— Why that picture though? You couldn't help but wonder.

• KinkForInk: Yes. Like I said, you're perfect for this piece. Are you down to at least see what the tattoo will look like? We don't expect you to be experienced with modeling or anything, but if you listen to us and cooperate, you'll do just fine.

• You: Yes I wanna see, and I'll do the best I can if I decide to get it... I'm just a bit shy, is all.

• KinkForInk: You'll be in good hands. I promise.

• You: Okay... are you going to show me??

• KinkForInk: Can't send it over a message, I don't want it plagiarized or the concept stolen. But the piece itself isn't necessarily crazy or anything, just more creative. I'd be more than happy to show you at my shop some day this week, if you'd be willing to swing by.

• You: Yeah, I can do that. When should I come?

• KinkForInk: Are you available after 5 tomorrow?

• You: I am, I get off at 4:30.

• KinkForInk: Great. Be here by 5:30, and make sure you've eaten in case you like the piece and wanna get started. It's pretty big for a first timer and gonna take a lot of time and patience. It'll have to be done in sessions but I hope you have a fair enough pain tolerance to at least get the outline of it done first.

— It can't be any worse than a bikini wax, you thought, shivering at the memory. That a story for another time. You decided on an alternative scenario.

• You: I give blood from time to time... but that's easy and doesn't really hurt that much. I think I can handle it though... maybe. I honestly don't know lol, I'm sorry 😣. But I can try my best. Can I ask where it's supposed to go?

• KinkForInk: That's okay, I'll work with you. It's supposed to go down the middle of your back. Starts between the center of your shoulder blades, and trails down the length of your spine to your lower lumbar. You'll see how it looks once we transfer a template on your back. But if you don't like it, there will be no hard feelings from my end. I can still do the tattoo you want if that's the case, free of charge just for your time.

• You: Oh no, you don't have to do that! I'd still pay!

• KinkForInk: Not if I don't accept your money. Trust me, I'm not worried about it. The nose piercing is gonna be $30 regardless, though. JK isn't so lenient.

• You: Of course. Will I have to take my shirt and bra off for the tattoo?

• KinkForInk: Yes, and for the pictures once it's done.

— Your mind blanked at that; thumbs froze over the keypad. He was typing again.

• KinkForInk: Don't let that discourage you. Again, you're in good hands. You can bring something to cover your chest. And the pics will be if your back as well.

• You: Okay, I can handle that. So 5:30 tomorrow?

• KinkForInk: Yes, please don't flake on us!

• You: Lol, I won't. I'll be there.

"They're gonna knock us the fuck out and sell our organs to the black market," Jimin declared. He had parked next to you outside of the shop, and was now sitting in the driver seat of his car with his door locked and windows all the way up, refusing to get out. You were standing right outside his door, still having to talk on the phone. "And is this Tae-guy an AllState representative or something?"

Jimin is petty. You wanted him here for moral support— which he's usually reliable for— but this time, he's just plain salty right and doing everything he can to remind you of that. Reason is, he's been begging you to get a matching tattoo with him ever since your 18th birthday, and you've always refused because of what he wanted to get.

Cupcakes. Jimin wanted to get matching cupcake tattoos... in honor of Cupcakke the legend. Sorry, but H E L L no.

You rolled your eyes, growing frustrated. He only has enough time to pop in and confirm that these two aren't gonna kill you, and then he's gotta head home to get ready for work. You were already supposed to be in there. It was 5:33pm, 3 minutes past the time.

"Jimin, you're the one that insisted on coming along! And now you're making me late!" you ranted. "I'm going in without you."

"Hold your horses, hoe! I'm finishing my blueberry slushie," He retorted, sassily bringing the straw to his mouth and loudly slurping it into the phone. He then abruptly flinched away from the straw with a disgusted expression, nostrils flared, body locking up; lips drawing into an air-tight knot that was so extreme and unnatural, it caused an ugly snort to break out of your nose.

He smacked his lips in exaggeration to the taste, face falling back into stone as an eyebrow arched over the top of his aviators; unamused and saltier than before... Like you were at fault for that, too.

"Or... Blueberry-ass, I should say."

That forced another giggle out of you as Jimin stiffly rolled his window down, phone still pressed to his ear and eyes still scowling at you behind the inspector shades. He bit down on the straw and withdrew it with his teeth before dumping the dark-blue contents of the drink out of the window, making it a point to shake the styrofoam cup empty of every drop before tossing it over his shoulder and into back seat. He then spat the straw out of his mouth with an audible "PLUUUUH!" of a French accent, and waited until the window rolled all the way up again, just so he could hang up the phone. You scoffed at this as you shoved your phone back into your pocket, scornfully watching Jimin exit the car and slam the door behind him. He snatched his glasses off his face as his cotton-candy hair swayed in the breeze, revealing his scornful eyes right back at you as he gestured for you to lead the way in exasperated manner— as if you were the one wasting his time now.

"Go on, lead us to the grave," He shooed, a snippy little shit. You sauntered away, walking up the side of the shop, then paused just before reaching the glass entrance door, when you remembered how much of a coward you are. You've never even stepped into a parlor before, and supposedly, this was a famous one. Which makes it more and more surreal when you think about it.

"Are we doing the mannequin challenge now? Is that what we're doing?" Jimin sardonically inquired.

"You go first, I'm nervous!" You whisper-hissed.

"You don't want me to go in there first— I'll show out," he reasoned, simply stating a fact.

"Please don't," you whined.

"Then, again, I'll show out?" He reiterated, as if to say duh. "How else am I supposed to break the ice? I look like Timmy Turner's Fairy-Gay- Parent."

You gave him a wary look... he's right. You sighed, slightly kicking your foot in distracted defeat. Fuck, you hated making an entrance to new places—

"Hold up— is that Drake?" Jimin suddenly blurted, holding his hand up to silence you. You honed in on the muffled track playing from behind the glass door, and Jimin's face soon light up like a Christmas tree before he spun around you, unstoppable.

"Jimin, NO—!"

"KIKI, DO YOU LOVE ME—?!"

It was already too late. The door was flying back behind him as he Milly-Rocked his way into the shop, leaving you no choice but the chase in behind him.

"—ARE YOU RIDING? SAY YOU'LL NEVA-EVA LEAVE FROM BESIDE ME— hello there."

You were panting, coming to a stop right behind Jimin, where you instantly latched on to the back of his shirt as you met the face of the man behind the studio counter. And, as corny as this is gonna sound: the world actually stilled for a solid beat... or maybe you were in the verge of cardiac arrest.

A pair of glossy-Black eyes looked up at the two of you; A series of silver-studded earrings trailed along the outer cartilages, peaking out beneath a head of soft, layer-swept hair. It was a Carmel-tinted blonde in color— thick and shaggy, and neatly spilling in waves around a headband that proudly sported a high-dollar brand-name you've never seen anyone wear in person before. G U C C I, it read— Meaning that the headband alone was probably worth more than some of your college text books, put together. It sat just a few inches above a pair of dark brows, that oddly brought out the shape of his cat-like eyes— irises like polished marbles. His ample lips had a sharp, well-defined Cupid's-bow, and a natural shade of pink that fit the porcelain appearance of his melanin-kissed complexion, to the finest degree.

And here you are, looking like an actual bum. You had just enough time to clock out of work and head straight over here to make it in time. You didn't even have any makeup on, and the only thing hiding your raggedy hair from those captivating eyes is your old baseball cap from high school. It took a second for him to take the bold presence that was Park Jimin— who was also frozen to the spot as he openly checked the guy out. He was hunched over the counter, a v-neck hoodie covering the rest of him with a thin, loose-fitting material. It was Black and allowed a full visual of his tan neck, and prominent collar bones. And it certainly didn't hide the fact that he had a pair of wide-set shoulders, either. A pencil sat in his hand— one that was laced with masculine veins, and lot of decorative ink. There was a silver ring on his thumb.. and a very heavy-looking Rolex watch.

The man cracked a grin at Jimin— a boxy one that dimpled in at the corners.

"Love the hair," he humorously began, twisting a quirky eyebrow at Jimin. You subconsciously snagged the bill of your hat as your eyes went a little wide at how mature the man's voice was.

"Love the watch," Jimin retorted, then reached around and gripped you by the wrist before pulling you into full view beside him. "You wouldn't happen to be Taehyung...?"

"Mhm," the man hummed, absentmindedly moving his wrist at the mention of his watch. His eyes cut over to you, and you swore you could see a minuscule reflection of yourself in his eyes, before they flashed back at Jimin and blinked. "You must be the babydaddy?"

Blood rushes to your ears. It's really him... a guy who looks like a high-dollar model himself, asking you to be his canvas model. Your own conscious didn't even know what to say right now. So you stayed quiet and still as Jimin took charge... which was a mistake.

"She wishes, but no. I'm the best-friend— and a gay one, at that," Jimin replied, and you knew he did that for his benefit. Thot. "I'm just here to make sure you're not gonna sacrifice her to Satan, or anything of that nature. I need her around in case I ever forget the Netflix password."

Taehyung chuckled at that, mouth opening to reveal a row of teeth shinier than Chip Skylark's. But then, you caught something behind his teeth that caused your gut to leap. A silver ball... a tongue ring. Your thoughts clouded over for a second.

"Well, I can assure you, she's safe with me," he said, looking over at you again. You blinked, nothing more. His brow arched at your lack of response, but this time, it was done more handsomely as he was still smirking at you. "Still, you don't look too thrilled to be here... You sure you wanna do this?"

"She's just nervous because you're really fucking hot," Jimin announced, unyielding. "You should feel how sweaty her hand is."

"Don't listen to him— I'm gay too," You lied in panic, trying to defend yourself from the absolute truth Jimin spoke just then. You snatched your hand away from him and jutted a finger at the door, eyes beading and lid twitching as your nerves ran amuck. "Goodbye, Jimin."

"She's a lonesome hetero," Jimin told Taehyung, assuring him with a face that showed no bluff. "One look at her camera roll, and you'd see for yourself—" You were yanking him away by the arm now, in a tug-of-war game that Jimin obviously could've won if he really wanted to. But he figured you suffered enough and eventually let you drag him out of the shop, waving bye to Taehyung before turning to look at you with beading eyes.

"I think he wants to fuck you— text me as soon as you can," Jimin uttered with unmoving lips as before he walked to his car. You stopped for a second, noticing he was actually being serious. How could he possibly think that he wants to fuck you, just from that small encounter? And what is the odd sensation currently coiling in your stomach? Things grew awkward again when you re-entered the shop, coming to a stand at the same spot... only alone now. He was still amused, it seemed. And so calm and cool despite this odd, intense look in his eyes. It gave him a Casanova effect, where all he had to do was give you that look and it'd instantly make you blush.

"He seems like a fun person to be around," he noted, somewhat honestly, but more so making fun of the red-hot appearance of your face.

"He's a pain in the ass," you muttered, trying to conjure up a smirk but hardly even able to speak properly from how dry your mouth was. It felt like there was a white-hot iron expanding in your throat. "I'm really sorry about him."

"Don't be. I'm just glad you're here— thought you'd chicken out." You nervously wiped your clammy palms over the back pockets of your jeans as Taehyung got up from the barstool behind the counter and approached you on the other side of it, a whole head-and-a-half taller than you. He was wearing black cardigan jeans and matching combat boots.. his headband and jewelry the only thing not black on him. And oddly enough, he made it look fucking fantastic.

"Mh-mm," You hummed, not trusting your voice. You've never needed a sip of water so bad in your life— he even smelled expensive.

"Well, It's very nice to meet you," he formerly began, and you mustered up the normality of placing your (dried) hand into his much larger one, as he held his out to you in greeting. And boy, was he close. So close that the heels of your spine itches to lean back from the proximity.

"It's nice to meet you, too. I'm really sorry if I'm acting weird. I'm just nervous." — Your mind struggled to stay focused on your words, arm tensing at the skin-to-skin contact. You were extra-effected by the firmness in his grip. You really wanted to look down at all the bold ink you saw dashing across the veiny surface of his tanned hand, or see if those were images or scripted letters on the knuckles of lengthy fingers... But you were held captive by those God-blessed eyes... And that fucking tongue ring. It was infecting your head in ways that weren't necessarily healthy for your current state of mind, as you saw it peering in and out at certain words.

"And physically shaking," Taehyung pointed out, brows twitching down at your trembling hand in his as if he was concerned for it. But his smirk gave off an odd sense of fascination to the involuntary symptom, like it was cute or something? Hm. He glanced back up at you, causing your dehydrated throat to bob as his other hand came to clasp over the rest of yours, swallowing it completely from the wrist down. "Intimidated?"

"V-Very," you spluttered, a small slither of saliva copulating down your throat as you looked back up at him. He absentmindedly rolled his tongue ring over the button row of his teeth as he watched you with tainted eyes— undoubtably getting cocky with that damn grin of his and proudly teasing you about your reaction to him. It gratified the effortless sex-appeal he had. You were even beginning to imagine that tongue ring elsewhere, and you literally just met him. Then, as you felt the band of a ring move along with the pad of his thumb as gently ran it across your trembly knuckles, chills shot up all the way to your shoulder. Oh... oh wow. You glanced down at his knuckles on reflex this time, and saw a four-letter word scripted in black ink across the bottom row of his knuckles, and another word scripted on the middle section of his fingers. A silver band on his naked thumb. STAY TRUE, it said.

"And why's that?"

"I.. feel like you're a celebrity," you sheepishly admitted, your other hand wedging into your back pocket as you had to stop yourself from reaching for the bill of your hat again. Is he flirting? The words seem too innocent for the way he was making you feel. It was getting so hot in the oven of his massive palms, and he wasn't even squeezing you hard enough to cut off any circulation, but yet your fingers were beginning to tingle.

"Mm, no. Just a little popular, really," he granted, teetering his head a little as he pondered the thought. You could see his vocal chords contract in his sleek neck as they project his smooth, pungent voice. "You still trust me?"

"Mhm," was all you could muster. He'd gotten even closer, to where his hand had gone into a prayer stance around yours. You were aware of how wide your eyes had gone from the awe you... you knew this was just the beginning. He was going to be very handsy throughout this whole process. But in a very twisted way, you were more than okay with that. Even if it meant you were at risk of fainting from actual dehydration. Maybe you were in over your head. But you couldn't will yourself away from this now. And then, just as a wide, heart-stopping smile edged out on that mind-numbingly handsome face, the door at that back of the room swung open, and heavy-metal rock blasted through the quiet vibe of the scenery and caused you to jump a little at the disturbance. Taehyung shot a wicked smile over his shoulder, and his next words nearly knocked you out right then and there as you beheld yet another, breathtaking sight.

"Oh, there you are," Tae eagerly acknowledged, one hand still holding yours as he walked around to grab your with the other, presenting you to the.. hulking presence in the room. "This is (Y/N), our next little experiment."

939 notes · View notes

the-fixation-zone · 5 years ago

Text

a drink from hell

okay so i haven’t written fanfic in literal years (and even then, it was only one, unpublished) and my writing in general is rusty, but i saw this answer by @hurricanezukka and i just. i had to write something. so here it is! it doesn’t follow the prompt exactly, the plot got a little away from me, and if i didn’t just write something i was going to take a billion years on it/not finish it at all so! anyway! the Work!

~5k words

“Your change is three dollars.” Zuko hands over the bills, trying not to wrinkle his nose as yet another person purchases his Uncle’s…concoction. The customer smiles and walks down to the end of the counter, awaiting what Zuko believes can only loosely be considered a drink. He sighs through his nose, turns, and begins crafting. A Thai tea with…boba. He tries not to gag as he finishes it and hands it over with its obnoxiously large straw. The customer’s eyes light up when she sees it, her “thank you!” almost lost in the loud popping of the drink’s seal. Zuko does not say you’re welcome. Instead, he tries to keep his eyes from rolling and goes back to the register. Another day, another delusional person. When Uncle Iroh had said he wanted to try something new in his tea shop, Zuko hadn’t questioned it. It was his shop, after all, and Zuko was only there because of his Uncle’s love. Uncle obviously knew how to run a business without outside influence. But when Uncle had shown him the little…black…balls he intended to put into the most finely brewed tea in the city, Zuko had nearly put his foot down.

“Uncle. What…what are those.”

“They are tapioca balls, nephew! Don’t they look delicious? It will add a bit of fun to drinking tea, if I say so myself!”

Right. Fun. As if drinking hot (or, in this case, cold) leaf juice needed to be a diverting activity. Zuko had said nothing and had dutifully tried one. And then he had just as dutifully spit it out when Uncle wasn’t looking. Honestly, what the fuck was he thinking?

So now Zuko stands behind the counter of the Jasmine Dragon and waits for people to come in and order the monstrosity, forcing him to relive his waking nightmare. Cold tea. And tapioca balls. It isn’t enough to make him rethink working here, but it’s damn close.

“Gooooood afternoon! I hear you guys have something called boba tea?”

Zuko’s eyes clench close reflexively before he remembers the customer service etiquette Iroh tried to drill in him. He opens his eyes and says, through clenched teeth, “Yes. We do. Only place in the city.”

“Wooooow.” The customer is flashing him a bright smile, one that takes Zuko off-guard for a moment. Sure, sometimes customer’s smile at him. It’s usually because they want something. A bit knocked off the price of their drink; to be able to use an expired coupon. But this customer doesn’t seem to want anything. Just the boba. “Is it good?”

Zuko raises his eyes from the smile to the man’s eyes, intending on telling him the honest truth, but he’s arrested by how bright blue they are. Zuko forgets how to form sentences. The customer’s tanned skin makes his eyes look even bluer, the little blue beads in the single braid that comes down into his face tying the whole package together. He has laugh lines.

“Uh—what?”

The customer’s smile falters, just a bit. “The boba? Is it good? I mean, my sister says it’s great, but who can trust a little sister’s taste?” He winks, bringing Zuko into the joke. Zuko thinks about Azula’s taste in, well, anything, and finds himself nodding along.

“Yeah. Yeah, I understand. Uh, a lot of people say it’s good. Like, uh, it’s ordered a lot? Instead of regular tea?” Zuko does not know why he’s asking his customer these statements, but Zuko also doesn’t know why he isn’t just telling him that the boba fucking sucks and to try something else. Maybe it’s because the customer is still smiling, even though by now he’s sure to have gotten a proper look at Zuko’s marred face. Maybe it’s because his hair, the rest of it that’s not in the little braid but is instead in a wolftail, looks so soft…

Maybe Zuko is a bit preoccupied.

“Well, that’s good enough for me! How about I get a small black milk boba tea and let you know what I think?”

Zuko nods numbly, tells him how much it is, and exchanges currency. He’s fairly certain he doesn’t look at the till to do it, but the customer doesn’t say anything about incorrect change so maybe he’s done it right. Zuko makes the tea with shaking fingers. When he finishes, he turns and sees the customer leaning against the counter, looking down at his phone. He looks up, as if he knew Zuko was looking at him, and flashes that smile again. Zuko passes over the tea and their fingers brush.

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.”

Zuko watches as the customer walks to a table near the windows, pulls out a laptop (how long had he been wearing a messenger bag?) and gets to work. Zuko, unfortunately, finds it hard to get back to work for the rest of his shift.

***

Zuko’s off the next few days and he spends his free time reading. Mostly Wikipedia articles, but if pressed Zuko would defend his habits as educational to the last breath. Besides, it isn’t as if he is just reading them for fun, not that anyone asked. He’s editing. The nature of Wikipedia is such that anyone, even idiots, can create a page. It is a beautiful idea in theory, but in practice it gives Zuko a headache. He doesn’t edit every inaccurate page that he comes across (he’d get nothing else done) but he does look through pages he considers himself an expert on. Species of turtle, types of candle wax, the furnace manufacturing industry—well. There are plenty of things to keep him occupied until his next shift. He very pointedly does not think about the blue-eyed bombshell from the other day who stayed in the shop for several hours, long after he had finished his tea. He also doesn’t think about how, after finishing the tea, the blue-eyed customer had looked up and unerringly found Zuko’s eyes to give him a big, hammy thumbs up with another grin. He doesn’t think about how he’d fumbled the teacup that had been in his hand and blushed furiously, thanking the gods the cup had been empty. He doesn’t think about how, though he didn’t look back at the customer’s table ever again, he could feel the man’s eyes on him. He really doesn’t think about that.

Instead, he thinks about how someone has changed all the mentions of “tortoises” to “turtles” as he viciously changes them back. Honestly, if there weren’t a difference why would there be two separate words?

His next shift is an early one. 7am. Zuko doesn’t mind; he tends to rise early anyway. He comes in a few minutes before his shift starts, unlocking the door and bringing down chairs from their upside-down position on tables. He can hear Uncle in the back, counting change.

“Zuko, is that you?”

Zuko sighs. “Yes Uncle. Were you expecting someone else?”

Uncle Iroh’s chuckle can be heard clearly in the front room. “No, no, just glad you are here. Today is going to be a great day!” Uncle comes through the door to the back, tying his apron around his generous belly. Zuko still doesn’t understand why Uncle, the owner of this shop, insists on working when he could easily just hire someone to take his place. He’s asked a few times, wondering why his uncle doesn’t take an early (or, honestly, past due) retirement, but Uncle always gives him the same answer. He grins, slaps Zuko on the back, and says, “Can’t leave all the fun to the young!” before busying himself with some part of the tea process. Zuko doesn’t understand it, but he’s long learned not to question it. He grabs his own apron and gets behind the counter, taking the glass jars of tea out from the cabinets to display them next to the till. Uncle is insistent that people see the tea before it’s brewed, so they know exactly what they are getting. Zuko doesn’t get it. He looks in the jars and sees different shades of dried leaf, which doesn’t help him choose which one he’ll hate least. But Uncle is the boss, so.

The morning goes quickly, a rush hitting a half hour after they open and holding steady until around nine. Perks of being located near the college campus, the best of which being that students in the early morning are dead-eyed and silent. They take their caffeine and go, without much small talk. Zuko decides to take his break after the rush, knowing another one will start up again in an hour or so. Uncle had decided pretty early on that tea was much better with a snack, and so had added café food to the menu. Oatmeal, avocado toast, and smoothie bowls are part of the Jasmine Dragon’s repertoire, among other tasty things, which brings more people in for lunch than they’d get just serving tea. A blessing and a curse, Zuko thinks. A blessing, because more customers mean more tips. A curse because…well, customers. Zuko throws together a sandwich and starts to head to the back. Uncle always says he’s welcome to eat in the dining room, where the seats are more comfortable, but Zuko prefers not to be seen while he eats. Usually, Uncle leaves it just at that. Today, however, he pushes Zuko a little more.

“Are you sure, nephew? I chose these couches myself for their comfort! I think you will enjoy your lunch a bit better if you sit out here today.” Uncle has an odd twinkle in his eye as he says this, one Zuko doesn’t have the energy to parse through. He looks at the clock, then back at Uncle, and realizes if he wants to have any food at all it’s better to just give in now. Zuko shrugs and heads to the dining room instead, taking an armchair close to the back. The room is, thankfully, empty for now. Not knowing how long that will last, Zuko starts to take a bite of his sandwich when the bell over the door rings. He sighs, moving to get up, but Uncle waves him off and heads towards the till to take care of the customer. Grateful, Zuko sinks back into the armchair, eyes drifting to the newcomer in case they try to give Uncle any trouble. As his eyes find him, Zuko freezes. It’s. The blue-eyed man.

Zuko does not drop his sandwich.

The man walks to the counter, familiar grin on his face, and greets Uncle like they’re old friends. Zuko watches, confused, as they immediately launch into a hushed conversation too quiet for him to make out. He does catch Uncle attempting to subtly point in his direction, though, and feels his ears go red. Better not to worry about it, Zuko thinks, and hunches deeper into his armchair to nibble on his sandwich. Not worrying about it, he keeps his eye on the customer.

Eventually, after it seems the man has finally ordered, the customer moves down the counter away from Uncle, and Iroh starts his tea. Instead of looking at his phone like he did last time, the man looks directly at Zuko and makes a beeline for his corner. Zuko eats a bit faster.

“Hey! You on break?”

Zuko wishes he hadn’t eaten so fast. “Mmph? Uhk, er—”

The other man’s eyes fill with concern and he puts his hands up, palms out. “Whoa, whoa sorry! I should’ve waited, take your time!” He watches Zuko swallow with a soft smile, getting comfortable in a nearby armchair. Zuko tries to tone down his impression of a human tomato.

“I—fuck—hi. Hello. Again.”

The customer’s smile stays soft, but a light comes into his eyes. “Hello. Again. Name’s Sokka,” and he reaches a hand out to shake, “what’s yours?”

Zuko definitely drops his sandwich now (onto the table, thank fuck) and quickly meets the man’s—Sokka’s—hand with his own. Sokka’s hand is pleasantly cool. “Uh, I’m Zuko.”

“Zuko. Cool.” Sokka keeps looking at him, and smiling at him, and should Zuko let go now? Or is it okay, since Sokka hasn’t let go either? Zuko wracks his brain for the last time he shook anyone’s hand and how long the shake lasted and comes up maddeningly blank. Has Zuko shaken anyone else’s hand before?

Sokka’s smile grows. He slowly removes his hand from Zuko’s grip, fingers lingering. Zuko has just enough presence of mind to bring his hand back to his lap, and not leave it dangling in midair like an idiot. It’s a near thing, though.

“Uh, so. What were you and Uncle talking about?” Zuko asks, the first thing that comes to mind.

“Oh! That’s your uncle?” Sokka looks over his shoulder for a second, then looks back. “Oh, uh, nothing? Would you believe nothing? We were just shooting the breeze, you know, real casual small talk.” Sokka does not sound very convincing, but he also doesn’t sound like he’s going to change his story so Zuko doesn’t push it.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, he’s, uh, he’s good at that. Small talk.” Unlike me oh gods strike me down now.

“He seems like a good guy!” The nervous look leaves Sokka’s eyes, which is just as well because that means they’re not shifting all over the place and are firmly planted on Zuko’s face. “Must be nice to have such a nice uncle to work for. All the free boba you want! What a dream.”

Zuko’s eyes widen and he coughs. “Uh yeah. All the…the free b-boba…I’d want. Because it’s so good. Who doesn’t like boba? You like it, right?”

Before Sokka can answer, Uncle comes to their little corner with Sokka’s order: same as the other day, black milk tea with boba. This time, though, it’s a much bigger serving. Sokka’s eyes light up when he sees it, and he thanks Uncle profusely as he stabs into the drink’s seal. Zuko tries to hide his grimace, his question thoroughly answered. He looks at Uncle, intending on asking if he should get back to work, but Uncle just gives him a wink and walks off without saying anything. Flustered, Zuko stays put. Between slurps of tea, Sokka begins to ask him about himself and, helpless, Zuko answers. He makes sure to keep his eyes on Sokka’s face, rather than the abomination he’s inhaling, but really that’s not much better. Looking at Sokka makes Zuko feel like he’s on fire. Every time Sokka asks him something his tongue trips over itself trying to provide the best, most accurate answer. He’s sure he looks like a buffoon but Sokka never comments, just keeps smiling at him and encouraging him to answer. He just wants to know and Zuko doesn’t get it.

“Uh, so. What about you? You were working on something the other day…what was it?” Immediately Zuko wants to take it back, sure he’s asked something too personal, maybe the guy doesn’t want to talk about his work, honestly Zuko just think sometimes—

“Oh! I’m glad you asked, I’ve been meaning to bounce some ideas off someone!” Sokka’s eyes light up like he’s been given another boba as he launches into an explanation of his work. He’s a PhD student apparently, trying to hammer out a decent thesis proposal for his dissertation on medieval war tactics. War isn’t really Zuko’s interest, but he does know a bit about medieval history so he offers advice when he can. He’s sure it’s not very helpful, but Sokka seems to take it all very seriously, even pausing for a moment to bring his laptop out and take some notes. Zuko doesn’t have the heart to tell him most of his information was collected from his Wikipedia hunts. Before Zuko knows it, the lunch rush has come and gone and evening is swiftly approaching. When he finally notices a clock he swears, standing up quickly.

“Oh shit, I should go back to work! Oh man, I left Uncle all alone, I—” He looks around frantically hoping to catch his uncle’s eye.

Sokka stands too, seemingly also unconscious of the time. “Oh wow, yeah it’s later than I thought. I’ve got to go, Katara’s gonna kill me…” He quickly packs up his things, having over time brought out papers and folders along with his laptop, haphazardly shoving things back into his messenger bag. “This was good, though! I really liked talking to you. Until next time?” Sokka shoots Zuko a hopeful look as he puts his items away. Zuko blinks a few times, still in Red Alert mode, but takes a second to look back at Sokka. And nods.

“Yeah. Next time.”

***

Next time is apparently the very next day. Zuko isn’t scheduled but Uncle calls him in last minute, as Jin, one of the other employees of the Jasmine Dragon, apparently called in sick. Zuko isn’t planning on doing anything but sweep through Wikipedia so he agrees, taking a quick shower before heading over and arriving with his hair still a bit damp. Uncle gives him a wide smile when he sees him arrive, which Zuko returns, albeit in a more subdued manner, before he spots Jin behind him. His eyes narrow.

“Uncle. I thought you said Jin called in sick.”

“Ah, nephew, you see….” His uncle has the good grace to blush. “She had called in sick, but it seems she felt a bit better and decided to come in anyway!”

“Uncle, you called me twenty minutes ago. Did she get sick and better within the span of half an hour?”

Uncle shrugs, unperturbed by being called out in an obvious lie. “Who is to say, nephew? Illnesses come and go, sometimes. Since you are here already, why don’t I make it up to you? You go sit in your corner and I’ll bring you some tea!” Uncle has that look in his eye, the one Zuko knows means he’s been caught in something he can’t see yet, which doesn’t make any sense….

It’s then that Zuko looks to “his” corner. And sees Sokka sitting in the same chair as yesterday, tapping away on his laptop.

“Uncle! Did you--?” Zuko doesn’t even know how to finish the sentence, but one look at the conniving old man tells him all he needs to know. Zuko groans. “I’m going home, Uncle.”

“No, no! Why go home if you are already here? You may as well relax your poor feet and have some good conversation while you are at it. Go, go sit and I will bring you and your…companion some tea and pastries.” Uncle makes a shooing motion and Zuko finds his feet have decided to make their own decisions, choosing to carry him over to Sokka. Sokka seems to know he’s there because when he gets close, Sokka turns to greet him.

“Zuko! I didn’t know you were working today! Good to see you.” He indicates the chair opposite him, snug in the corner. “Join me?”

Zuko nods numbly and goes to sit. “I wasn’t working today. Uncle called me in, said Jin called out sick…but she’s not sick. She’s right over there.” He points to where Jin is laughing with Uncle about something. He hopes to the gods it’s not him.

“Hmm. Sick but not sick huh? Well, I guess it’s my lucky day then,” Sokka says, beaming a smile at Zuko. Zuko feels warm down to his toes and musters a small smile back.

“Yeah, I guess.” Zuko scratches the back of his neck, feeling the weight of conversation-making drop onto his shoulders. How do people do this?

Thankfully, Sokka seems to feel no such weight and launches right into a story about his sister and their roommate, a blind girl named Toph who sounds like a handful. Sokka doesn’t look like Zuko’s one-word answers bother him, seemingly content to talk about whatever, switching topics on a whim. It’s…comforting. When Sokka wants something from Zuko, he asks. He doesn’t push and doesn’t stray into awkward territory. He doesn’t’ ask about the scar. At one point, Zuko looks down and sees there’s tea in front of both of them, the usual for Sokka and a smaller version of the same for him along with two croissants. He didn’t even notice Uncle coming by. He doesn’t say anything about the cup of boba in front of him, choosing to pretend he doesn’t see it.

“Oh! Can I get your opinion on something?” Sokka asks, his laptop now out. He looks a little nervous, typing at some keys.

“Yeah, sure, I guess. What is it?” Zuko doesn’t know what Sokka could possibly want his opinion on, but he can’t possibly say no.

“Well, it’s this paragraph. I think I’m describing the reign of this king right, but the way you said it yesterday made so much more sense…” Sokka lifts his laptop to hand it over to Zuko, and Zuko doesn’t understand because he could just slide it over and—oh. Sokka’s fingers brush against Zuko’s in the handoff, and Zuko has no more complaints. He takes the laptop, feeling his face heat up, and tries not to fumble it as he turns it around.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, let me read it.” He does, half his mind on the highlighted paragraph and the other half on how nice Sokka’s fingers had felt on his. “This seems right. If anything I’d just, well…” He turns on track changes and does a few minor edits, hands it back. Hopes Sokka’s fingers will touch his again and is not disappointed. Sokka’s ears seem a bit red but otherwise he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, great! Yeah, see that’s what I meant, you just are so good at that. The words, I mean.”

Zuko looks at him like there’s worms coming out of his eyes. Him? Good with words? What planet is Sokka from? He doesn’t say anything though, just shrugging.

The day passes the same as the one before, Sokka alternating between asking Zuko questions and working on his thesis proposal. Zuko tells him about his love of turtles, and his Wikipedia obsession, though he refrains from calling it an “obsession” and refers to it as “an academic obligation.” Sokka nods as if this makes sense. Zuko finds the courage to ask Sokka a bit too, about his sister (Katara, a bit of a pain but the way Sokka talks about her Zuko knows he loves her), his roommate Toph (exactly as much of a handful as that story made her sound like), his parents (dead mom, Zuko regrets asking, and great dad, Zuko really regrets asking) and his school program. Occasionally Zuko will catch Sokka looking at him in a way he can’t read, like Sokka is puzzling something out. When Zuko catches him, he raises his one eyebrow in question but Sokka shakes his head and goes back to his laptop. Zuko leaves it at that.

When it’s time for the Jasmine Dragon to close, neither are ready for it.

“Time sure flies, huh?” Sokka asks, looking genuinely bewildered at the position of the sun. “I should be getting back.”

“Yeah, me too.” Zuko stands, instinctively clearing the table. “This was. Nice. I’m…glad I came in today.”

Sokka gives him a soft smile, pausing in putting his laptop and papers away. “I’m glad too.”

***

For the next week, Zuko is working every day. When asked why he signed up for seven days in a row, Zuko shrugs.

“Rent is coming up.”

His Uncle, who is very familiar with his nephew’s finances, smiles and says nothing.

And if Zuko’s breaks are spent in the corner of the dining room with a certain blue-eyed regular, well. It’s nobody’s business but his.

He makes sure he doesn’t go over time, feeling guilty about the work he skipped last time, but when he goes back behind the till Sokka doesn’t leave. In fact, he just moves tables, sitting in a chair closer to the counter, angled towards Zuko. Zuko doesn’t know why, but he isn’t complaining. It’s much easier to watch Sokka this way.

The man really was beautiful. Zuko’s never been very good at describing people, wrinkling his nose at the labels people use for body parts. All he knew was that something about Sokka called to him, somewhere deep down, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Or if there was anything to do. Sokka was a customer, after all! He came for his (disgusting) tea and a quiet place to work. And, apparently, to talk to Zuko, sometimes. But that didn’t mean anything. Still. For seven days, Sokka came in and ordered his boba, they chatted during Zuko’s breaks, and Zuko watched him work when he had to go back behind the till. He might have dropped a mug or two. But who was counting? Apparently not Uncle, who only gives him mysterious looks whenever it happens and sweeps up the glass without comment. He also seems to be oddly occupied in the back of the shop, leaving Zuko at the front. Alone. On days when Uncle is not in the shop, but Jin or Piandao are working instead, they also seem to make themselves…scarce, unless there’s a rush. Zuko doesn’t question it, as it leaves him more chances to watch Sokka unobserved.

Somewhere in the middle of the week, Sokka starts coming up to the counter after the lunch rush to ask Zuko some more questions. Mostly about his proposal, but sometimes not. He always goes back to his chair when a customer comes in, ever courteous of Zuko’s job, but Zuko kind of wishes he wouldn’t. Zuko would much rather explain to Sokka his disinterest in organized sports than watch a customer stare at the menu above Zuko’s head for five minutes, just to give a fake laugh and ask what Zuko thinks they should get. Zuko really wishes they would stop asking his opinion on tea.

By the end of the week, Zuko desperately needs a break. All his clothes, even his non-work ones, reek of tea. He doesn’t know how, but they do, and he’s tired. His feet hurt. He thinks he’ll do something violent if he has to make small talk with another customer. But he looks over at Sokka and thinking about the prospect of not seeing him for a few days fills him with panic. Maybe he could come in anyway? But, surely that’d be obvious, right? Maybe he can ask Uncle to loudly call him on the phone…

It’s nearing closing time and Zuko is still thinking about what to do. Sokka’s still there, which isn’t unusual. He hasn’t left before closing time all week. He gets up, stretches, and starts packing his things away. Also not unusual. What is unusual is that, instead of giving Zuko a wave and heading out, he walks up to the counter.

“Hey.”

“…hey?” Zuko’s mind switches from thinking about how to see Sokka in the next few days to how to deal with the Sokka in front of him. “Want a tea for the road?”

“Well, actually…” Sokka brings a hand up to tug at his braid, biting his bottom lip. Zuko tries not to track this motion and utterly fails. “I was wondering. You, uh. You’ve been working a lot this week, haven’t you?”

Zuko blinks. Sokka had noticed? “Uh, yeah. I’m supposed to be off a couple days soon.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, that makes sense, cool. Would…would tomorrow be one of those days?”

“Maybe? It, uh, could be? Why?”

Sokka tugs a final time at his braid before planting both hands on the counter. “Wellyousaidyoulikedturtlesright?”

Zuko frowns. “What?”

Sokka takes a deep breath. “Well. You said you liked. Turtles, right?”

Zuko nods slowly. “Yeah…?”

“Okay. Okay, so, I’m planning on going to the aquarium tomorrow. I have a free day from—” he gestures to the messenger bag on his shoulder, as if that explains anything at all, “—and was wondering if you wanted to join me?”

Zuko’s eyes widen. “Oh, like. You and me? At the aquarium?”

Sokka seems to gain his equilibrium in the face of Zuko’s awkwardness and grins. “Yeah, you and me. Like a date?” As confident as Sokka suddenly looks, Zuko can tell he’s a little nervous. Zuko rushes to reassure him.

“Yes! Yes. I would. I would like that. A date.”

“Great! Meet here at 2?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

Sokka leaves and Zuko allows himself a solitary fist pump.

***

The next day, Zuko comes in to find Sokka already out front, holding two cups.

“I thought I’d get us some boba for the trip over! Here,” and he hands one to Zuko. Zuko looks at it like it’s going to bite him. Sokka doesn’t notice, having already popped the seal on his and taking a big slurp. Zuko watches the boba balls go up the straw with dread.

“Come on, man, no need to be shy. Don’t even think you have to pay me back, just go ahead and enjoy!”

Zuko’s eye twitches but, as if on autopilot, he stabs into his drink. Takes a few sips. He tries his best, but a ball of boba gets stuck in his straw and he has no choice but to bring it all the way up. The moment it touches his tongue he makes the loudest retching sound, dropping his drink onto the pavement and launching the ball from his mouth to land on Sokka’s shirt.

Sokka, for his part, is in hysterics.

He laughs at him the whole way to the aquarium, and a bit more while they’re there for good measure. In fact, he doesn’t stop laughing until Zuko kisses him, right next to the turtle tank.

fin

#zukka #zuko #sokka #atla #fanfic #my work #AAAAAAAAAA i barely read over this so i hope it's okay??#im not gonna berate myself in the tags but that's only due to sheer force of will ok #also thank u hurricanezukka for ur really nice messages on the snippet i posts i freaked the heck out when i read them #and was thinking about ur comments when i kept writing #so thanks

176 notes · View notes

samanthadalton · 5 years ago

Text

Star crossed lovers (au) part 4

pairings: poppy x mc (bea)

warnings: throughout this fic there will be mentions of substance abuse, homophobia, sexual abuse, violence, NSFW, mentions of abandonment, depression and death including suicide

in this chapter specifically there are mentions of guns too

reader discretion is advised

taglist: @somewillwin @save-me-the-last-dance @baexpoppy @cloud9in @stanzoeywade @ognenniyvolk @thepotatobleh @crazzyplays @rxssians @helpconfusedpersonhere @dopeyouth

(i just wanted to thank you guys for your patience with this fic because i know im not the most consistent with my posting so thank you for reading, also i’ll fix any errors later on)

word count: 4.9k

part 1: part 2: part 3:

Never bring a knife to a gun fight

Rumours of Poppy’s outburst at volleyball practice began to spread like wildfire, students all around Belvoire gossiped about the intentions behind the strawberry blonde’s confrontation.

Some of the stories fabricated insinuated that Bea threatened Poppy to counter her friends’ behaviour, while others believed that Poppy was simply doing some charity work by helping Belvoire’s least fortunate. Not one of the rumours came close to the truth, that the girls were just simply in love.

Saturday rolls over quickly and Poppy’s in her bedroom with Veronica sprawled out on her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest, while Poppy lays on the other side of her. Chloe however, awkwardly sits on the edge of the bed, ostensibly feeling apprehensive about being in the same room as Poppy as she reels in from her last one on one confrontation with the strawberry blonde.

The two girls laying down, engage in idle chit chat until they’re pulled out of their conversation when the dumb blonde lets out a small cough capturing their attention.

“So.. are you sure you can’t ditch your dinner plans and come to the party?” She anxiously places some of her hair behind her ear, as she meets Poppy’s gaze but the blue-eyed girl holds the eye contact, determined to mitigate some of the awkwardness from the room since she’s barely spoken more than 10 words to the strawberry blonde since Thursday.

Poppy and Veronica share a look, the unspoken words covertly communicating their plan to go to the party in the south, but the two girls remain silent, avoiding the question. Chloe stares at the two girls, oblivious to what the shared look actually means, and when her question remains unanswered she opens her mouth to ask again until Poppy clears her throat slightly and sighs, “I told you Chlo, it’s a work dinner, we don’t have a choice, our parents are forcing us to be there.”

“Yeah but you could I dont know, speak to your dad? I’m sure he would understand”

‘I’m a Min Sinclair, I can’t pick and choose what dinners I can and can’t go to, it doesn’t work like that,” Poppy adds a bit of sterness to her tone hoping the dumb blonde would get the point and leave it alone but Chloe’s infuriating relentlessness compels her to keep cracking down on the strawberry blonde, inclined to make her change her mind. She drags her body from the edge of the bed to the middle, and perches herself on her knees as she faces the two girls, “the party won’t be as fun without you guys there”.

Poppy lips move to an imperceptible frown as her mind and heart begin to battle over whose party she should go to tonight. While she promised Bea she would go to the party tonight, Chloe was acting suspiciously clingy and things between the two girls were still fragile. Warily watching the strawberry blonde lost in speculation, Veronica intercepts before Poppy can come up with an answer, “have you met her dad Chloe? There’s no way Mr Min Sinclair will let us miss the dinner for a party, don’t be stupid”

Veronica’s cutthroat tone is enough for the dumb blonde to stop pushing and she purses her lips in retort. Veronica almost feels bad so she adds, “but I agree, the party is gonna be dead without the two of us there” she smiles and slightly nudges Poppy with her shoulder hoping to alleviate some of the awkwardness. However to her dismay, the atmosphere slips back to being awkward and the girls reside in the uncomfortable silence that follows until Poppy’s phone begins to chirp with messages. She apprehensively picks up her phone but can’t help the smile on her face when she sees Bea’s name pop up on her screen.

B 💖

Hey beautiful, can’t wait to see you at the party tonight

Zoey’s looking forward to seeing Veronica tonight but don’t tell her I told you that otherwise she’ll kill me

Also can’t wait to see what you’re gonna wear tonight 👀🥵

After reading the series of texts from Bea, Poppy’s practically grinning like a Cheshire cat as she types out her response, her attention shifts solely focusing on the brunette and she mentally reprimands herself for doubting which party she should go to, since the choice is undoubtedly clear.

Past memories of her going to parties with Bea surges through her mind and she revels in the memory of her first ever southside party. She recollects how nervous Bea was as the 15 year old girls made their way to the drinks table and Bea accidentally spilled her drink on Poppy’s top, after having a couple of beers beforehand, and Poppy teased what a lightweight she was. Bea’s face practically reddened with embarrassment as she offered her girlfriend to wear her hoodie to cover the drink stain, while she walked around the party in her tank top and caught a cold the next day. It was the small moments like that that made Poppy appreciative of Bea’s kindness and thoughtfulness and reminded the strawberry blonde exactly why she loves her. While reminiscing about the past, Poppy’s practically pulled from her thoughts when Chloe taps her leg, frowning.

‘Who are you uh talking to Poppy?”

Poppy visibly stiffens and turns off her phone, her mouth begins to feel dry as her brain goes into overdrive trying to come up with an authentic lie. “Just uhh going through my insta dms, the amount of creativity these creeps have is hilarious”

Chloe gawks at Poppy, not entirely convinced but she nods in response, not wanting to press the matter further. Veronica quickly sits up, a soft gasp leaving her lips as she stares at the time on her phone, “Crap, I gotta go and edit my video so I can upload it tonight”, she gets up to grab her bag and Chloe uses the opportunity to leave with Veronica as she knows that her and Poppy are yet to still be on normal speaking terms. After a few goodbye hugs and a promise from Veronica that she’ll see the strawberry blonde tonight, Poppy walks them down to the front door and watches the girls leave.

Just as she’s about to head about to her room, a voice booms out from the living room, Poppy freezes mid-step on the stairs and internally sighs, ‘crap’ she thinks to herself, her dad’s home.

“Poppy, come over here for a second”, Poppy mentally braces herself and holds her head up high, keeps her posture straight and walks into the living room to see her father sitting on his favourite chair and a stack of documents on the table beside him.

“Hi daddy”, she places a sweet kiss on his cheek and he makes a gesture for her to sit opposite him on the sofa. He places his hand on the frame of his glasses and takes it off and begins rubbing at the glass with the hem of his shirt before placing it back on his face.

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you this week princess, how was your first week as a senior?”

Poppy usually gets nervous when speaking with her father about any aspect of her life really, because he isn’t always the most affectionate or warming person. She purses her lips together in thought before answering, “It was good daddy, I’m in a lot of the AP classes so I’ve been making sure I stay on track for what’s expected for the classes”.

Her father beams at her response and slaps his hand against his knee, “that’s my girl”, but his expression quickly sobers as he fixates his gaze on the blonde, “so, you didn’t run into any problems this week?” His tone is almost intimidating and suggestive as Poppy subtly sinks into the sofa a little, her thoughts beginning to run wild as she struggles to grasp at her father’s implication.

“Uh no, not really dad”

“Huh, I heard that friend of yours, Chloe? She had a fight with that Hughes girl on the first day back. You wouldn’t be foolish enough to indulge in something so trivial would you now?”

Poppy clings to the edge of the sofa with a deathly drip, knuckles turning white at the mention of Bea but she lifts her body slightly in an attempt to show her father she isn’t fazed by her name and clears her throat slightly, “no dad, Chloe thought it would be a funny joke but I ended up getting detention for just being in the courtyard.” She begins to shake her head a little, “I would never involve myself in something so ludacris” she exaggeratingly rolls her eyes and fidgets with her perfectly manicured nails, soliciting her lack of interest in the topic.

Her father gleams at her with a hint of satisfaction, and curtly nods his head at her before swiftly changing the subject. “Rita, tells me you’re planning to go to a party tonight?”

“Umm, yeah, just a celebration party at Ford’s house, his parents know about it and- ”

Hayden Min Sinclair raises his hand in the air and the words die out of Poppy’s mouth as she awaits for her dad to speak, “just be safe, and make sure you’re home before 12, just call Carter if you find yourself in need of a ride home”. Of course, Mr Min Sinclair would never offer to pick up his daughter himself, he knows that his daughter should be less dependent on him and should be able to fare for herself. Poppy briskly nods and moves to stand, “Well daddy, I should let you get back to your work”, she gives him a polite smile and moves towards her room, letting out a huge exhale as she closes her bedroom door. She hates hiding things from her father, but he makes it impossible for her to confide in him at all, it’s times like these where she wishes her mother was still here.

……

Bea spends her afternoon alone after dropping her sister off at her friend’s house for the weekend and worries about her mom being AWOL and has concerns when she doesn’t pick up her phone. It isn’t until the late afternoon her mom casually strolls through the front door, her makeup has practically vanished, with only a few remnants of it smudged across her face. She moves towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water until Bea’s stomps towards the kitchen with a scowl etched onto her face as she pulls Isabella away from the sink to face her.

“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been calling and texting non-stop” Bea raises her voice and points accusatively at her mother who in response blanky rolls her eyes at Bea and moves towards the cupboards scrounging for some food. Bea’s blood begins to boil as she balls her hands up into fists, her knuckles turning white, she pushes her mom against the counter and lifts her face up to look into her eyes, “You’re fucking high aren’t you?”. She takes in her mom’s features, seeing her incredibly red eyes and her chapped lips, and her slightly slanted demeanour.

“Get the fuck off me” Isabella pushes Bea away from her, “last I remembered I’m the fucking parent here”

“Then act like it!” Bea screams at the top of her lungs, her breaths heavy, her tone enraged as she stares down at her mother, “I have better things to do than to worry about where you are or whether you’re laying dead in a ditch somewhere”

Isabella just places her hands on her head, trying to dull the noise sprouting from Bea’s mouth, “God, you’re hurting my head” she sniffles and simply grabs a packet of chips from the cupboard and a bottle of vodka from under the sink and retreats to her room without saying another word.

Bea chest heaves heavily, she has no idea what to do about her mother, sometimes she wishes that she wasn’t there, then maybe she would have less to worry about. She could be a normal teenager with normal problems, instead of constantly babying her mother and being a second mom to her sister, but she remembers that she should be lucky to have a mom, no matter how shitty she might be. Her phone in her pocket buzzes and she grimaces a little when she sees the text from Poppy

P💋

hey babe

V and I decided to go to Ford’s party just for a little bit

Just to make a few quick introductions but we’ll be in and out of the party

Can’t wait to see you 🥺

Bea feels a tiny pang in her heart but at least Poppy wasn’t going to completely ditch her for the night. She hoped that tonight would be just about them, that for once Poppy would let go off all expectations and just focus on herself. But Bea knew Poppy carried the world on her shoulders, that being a Min Sinclair meant that she had to sacrifice a lot, but sometimes Bea felt like she was the only thing being sacrificed, that she was the only thing that could easily be cut off. She types out a half-hearted reply to Poppy, something along the lines of ‘can’t wait to see you too’ and with that she grabs her jacket, turns around to catch a quick glance at her mother’s closed bedroom door and leaves for the party.

……

Poppy and Veronica are walking towards Ford’s house, the faint thumping of bass music echoes throughout the neighbourhood while the girls are fixated on their hair and outfits as they walk towards the front yard. Both of the girls are wearing smart suits, to make their lie about going to a company dinner more compelling. They leave their real party outfits in the back of Veronica’s car which is parked a couple of blocks away from the house and before they enter the house Poppy grabs Veronica’s hand.

“I told Bea that we will be in and out of the house, so let’s not waste any time. We just say a few hellos and then we go” she flips her hair throwing it back over her shoulder while Veronica rolls her eyes.

“Hey you’re the one who decided to stop by Ford’s party, I would rather be in the southside partying it up there.”

Poppy piercingly shushes Veronica, and in one swift move places her hand over the ombre-haired girl’s mouth, “Are you trying to expose us or something? Don’t mention the” she conspicuously u looks around and whispers, “don’t mention the southside here”

Veronica pulls Poppy’s hand from her mouth and exaggeratingly shudders while shaking her hands, “Oh no, I forgot the southside is like Voldemort we don’t speak of it” sarcasm dripping off every word she says.

Before Poppy can answer, a series of screams reverberates from inside the house and a few seconds later, Poppy and Veronica are engulfed in a huge bear hug from Chloe, “Oh my god, you guys made it”, she screams enthusiastically while jumping up and down in her spot clapping her hands together.

Veronica sticks her fingers in her ears are glares at Chloe, “chill Chloe, you’re gonna burst my eardrums”

Poppy laughs and playfully slaps Veronica on the arm and turns back to face the dumb blonde, “We’re just passing by, just because we have to go to a stuffy work dinner doesn’t mean we have to show up on time”

Chloe grabs the two girls by the arms and pulls them into the foyer where they’re greeted by more of their peers. Ford is already half naked with a red solo cup in his hand and he waves the girls over before offering them a drink which the two girls politely decline.

“Oh come on, one drink won’t kill you”

“We said we’re good” Veronica’s tone is cutthroat causing Ford to back off and resume his strip pong game.

“Ayyyyyy there are my two favourite girls” Carter slurs his words slightly and slinks an arm over each girl’s shoulders and migrates the girl’s to the back of the living room where the speakers are playing. “I thought Chloe said you guys aren’t coming? You change your mind Pops?” he flirtatiously raises an eyebrow at Poppy who playfully pushes him back in return.

“No we still have to go to the dinner” she gestures at her suit, “we just wanted to say hi real quick”

Chloe ambles towards the girl’s and grabs Veronica’s hand and pulls her to the dance floor without waiting for the ombre-haired girl to refuse, leaving Poppy and Carter alone.

“So… do you really have to go? I mean you could have a lot more fun if you stayed” he takes a careful step towards the strawberry blonde, closing the distance between the two as he leans in to whisper in her ear, “we could play strip pong”, he leans back a little to stare into Poppy’s eyes.

Poppy lets out a small awkward laugh, “um, as much fun as that sounds, Veronica and I really should get going. I don’t wanna piss off my dad” she takes a step back from the quarterback and wraps her arms around herself.

Carter gives Poppy a long unwavering look, one she fully couldn’t dissect and understand, but he breaks the silence, “well, I hope you have fun, Chloe was worried you were ditching us for someone else”

“Yeah, my dad’s business partners. Because work talk is absolutely riveting and exactly how I wanna spend my saturday nights” her voice brimming with sarcasm as she gives Carter a quick hug goodbye and grabs Veronica and pulls her out of the house after making a few more rounds with the rest of the students of Belvoire.

…….

“This is a party, loosen up a little” Zoey rolls her eyes and hands Bea a red plastic cup, before taking a small sip from hers, “don’t tell me the princess of Greensburg decided to not show up”

Bea lighthearted rolls her eyes and takes a huge swig of her cup, “she said she’s coming, okay? She’s just saying a quick hi to her friends”

“Yeah sure, because she would rather hang out with the people at the bottom of the food chain than preppy rich kids who can probably afford a better sound system and drinks than this”

“Oh hush, you’re just in a sour mood because Veronica isn’t here yet” Zoey pinches Bea on her arm, “ow ow, okay, it doesn’t make it any less true though. I mean you practically begged me to invite her”

“Shut up. I don’t care if she’s here or not. But let's just say I’ve been doing a lot of wishful thinking and I’m wearing my best bra tonight” she gives Bea a sly wink who just laughs. “So,, I still can’t believe you let Poppy off that easily after the shit that happened on monday”

Bea stiffens a little, her expression quickly sobering as she turns to face Zoey, “look, we spoke about it and we’re moving past it. I told her she isn’t exactly out of the dog house but I’m not gonna sit here and wallow about it. What’s done is done” she gives Zoey a fixed look, meaning that she was done talking about it and Zoey raises her hands in defence

“Maybe if you let me beat Chloe’s ass then I would let Poppy off” Bea playfully shoves Zoey with her shoulder, “only if I can join you”, the two girls laugh until Zoey catches Bea staring into the inside of her cup, her eyes barren. “Hey, I’m sorry for bringing it up. It just pisses me off that those entitled bitches think they can do shit like that”

Bea solemnly shakes her head, “well, it’s Isabella’s fault to be honest. Everywhere I go, it’s like I’m haunted by her past and all the shit she’s done. Like they all expect me to become a deadbeat like her”

Zoey empathetically rubs Bea’s back, as the brunette clenches her jaw slightly to stop her lips from quivering, and she blinks back the tears forming in her eyes before letting out a sad laugh, “God, you just told me to lighten up and I just made this entire atmosphere depressing”

“Bitch, who cares? You’re my best friend, you know you can talk to me about anything, anytime” she gives Bea a one armed hug while balancing her drink and when the hug breaks off she drains the rest of her cup. “Do you want another drink?” Bea shakes her head and Zoey flounces off to grab another drink. Bea bops her head along to the music until a pair of hands cover her eyes from behind her, and a soft voice whispers in her ear, “guess who?”

Bea grins and delicately removes the hands from her eyes and turns around to see Poppy in her skin tight pink dress and moves in to give a long lingering kiss. “You finally made it” she kisses the strawberry blonde again before realising Veronica is standing behind Poppy with her arms crossed waiting as her eyes move to scan the backyard. “Hey Veronica, if you’re looking for Zoey she went inside a few minutes ago to get a drink” Veronica nonchalantly raises an eyebrow and looks towards the house, “well, I’m suddenly feeling parched, I’ll see you girls later” she gives them a wink and struts towards the house.

Poppy laughs while shaking her head but stops when she sees Bea appraising her, looking at her up and down with lust in her eyes. Poppy gives Bea her signature smirk and does a small twirl for the brunette, “so you like what you see?”

Bea moves towards the girl, hugging her curves while staring into the blonde’s eyes with undisguised desire, “mmhmm, you look gorgeous”, she nods towards the group of people who are dancing along to the music, “dance with me?”

Poppy grabs Bea’s hand and manoeuvres her to the middle of the makeshift dance floor and the girls laugh, drink and dance for a couple of songs until Bea whispers into Poppy’s ear, “let’s get out of here”

She takes the blonde’s hand and moves towards the inside of the house and they stumble towards the bedrooms, and when they open the first door they simultaneously gasp when they see Veronica and Zoey making out on the bed, both girls half naked.

“Oh my god Bea get out” Zoey throws a pillow towards the door and in response Bea throws her head back laughing, “sorry, sorry, but the bra is kinda cute Zo”. Zoey gives Bea the finger as they leave the room and eventually, they find an empty bedroom and are already locked in a passionate embrace before the door even closes.

Bea roughly shoves Poppy against the door pressing her lips to Poppy’s, devouring her as her tongue slips into the blonde’s as her moans set the brunette alight. Bea caresses her tongue with Poppy’s and breaks the kiss to start kissing down her neck and then her jawline until she reaches the sensitive spot behind her ear and begins to suck at it. A moan escapes Poppy’s lips as her hands wrapped around the taller girl’s neck as her eyes roll back begging for more.

Bea pulls back and the two girls begin shredding off their clothes before jumping into the strangers bed, their lips locked once again, reigniting the very same passion. Bea sits up and leads Poppy onto her lap, she grabs the blonde’s hips and presses her down onto her thigh before whispering into her ear, “ride” and without missing a beat, Poppy does. She unrelentlessly presses her sensitive spot down on Bea’s thigh and rocks her hips, as she buries her face into the crook of Bea’s neck, muffling her moans. Bea feels the heat emitting from the blonde’s legs and lets out a groan as her hands grip Poppy’s hips even more and she begins alternating between kissing and sucking at the blonde’s chest.

“Please Bea” Poppy’s breaths come in hot and heavy as she begs for release, so Bea decides to give into the desire and flips the blonde over, pressing her deeper into the mattress while her fingers play with the waistband of her panties. She slips her hand inside and uses her thumb to encircle her clit, before slipping a finger inside her, and she begins pumping. Poppy’s back arches off the bed, groans echoing in the room as Bea slips another finger in, letting the blonde’s moans guide her as she brings the girl to the edge and lets her ride in the orgasm not stopping until she slumps back into the bed.

….

A little while later the girls get dressed and make their way back to the party where they see Zoey and Veronica in the corner whispering sweet nothings to each other and giggling. “They should just date already don’t you think?” Poppy leans on Bea’s shoulder, humming peacefully as she looks at the two girls.

“They should but they won’t. They’re both terrible with commitment”, Bea places a sweet kiss on Poppy’s forehead, “drink?”

“Yes please”

Bea squeezes Poppy’s hand and strolls into the house to grab the drinks. While waiting for Bea, Poppy stands in the front yard staring up at the sky until a unfamiliar hand, cups her ass and whispers into her ear, “what’s a girl like you doing alone here”, Poppy jerks away form the stranger, her nostrils flaring as she gives the guy a deathly stare.

“Don’t fucking touch me”

“Wow, I like my girls rowdy” he tries to touch a stray piece of the blonde’s hair that sticks out but she grabs his wrist and pushes him back, her eyes scanning the front yard hoping Bea will be back.

“Hey! What the hell is going on here?” AJ sidles up to Poppy as he begins to stare down the young man who just demeaningly laughs in AJ’s face.

“Get outta here kid, can’t you see I’m talking to someone”

“Well she has a girlfriend so get lost”. The stranger stares at Poppy, an unsettling glint in his eyes before he steps forward and puts two of his fingers under Poppy’s chin lifting her face a little, “so you’re a lesbo? Well we can change that”. Before Poppy can step back AJ shoves the boy back who in retort takes out a knife holding it out against AJ. “fuck off now”.

After catching up with a few friends, Bea hears about a commotion in the front yard and rushes out to see AJ barricading Poppy with his body while someone holds out a knife to his chest. Poppy’s eyes flash when she realises Bea is here and Bea moves behind the figure and takes out a small pocket knife from her jeans and lightly presses it against the stranger’s neck. Poppy lets out a small gasp, her body trembles slightly as she takes in the fact that Bea is holding a knife.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are but you better back the fuck off right now unless you want to get your throat slit” her voice is quiet but her tone is challenging. The stranger raises his hands in the air and Bea warily puts the knife down, avoiding any eye contact with Poppy. In a swift move, the stranger throws Bea’s knife out of her hand, puts her in a headlock and presses the knife against her throat, creating a small cut as blood lightly begins to trickle down her neck.

“No!” Poppy moves forward but AJ steps in front of her and in a flash he grabs an object from the waistband of trousers and holds it up to the stranger. Everyone in the front yard begins to panic and move out of the way as they all segregate themselves from the confrontation.

“AJ stop” Bea pleads with the young boy when she realises he has a gun in his hand as he points it to the stranger.

“Move away from her now or I’ll shoot” his voice trembles slightly as his hand shakes but he grips the gun tighter as his gaze pierces into the stranger.

“You won’t do it” he presses his knife into Bea’s throat a little more, who just winces at the pain while Poppy painfully watches the ordeal unfold, her heart hammering into her eardrums.

AJ places his hand on the trigger, his stance unwavering, “try me”. The stranger grimaces at AJ before removing his knife and pushing Bea forward, “you better watch your back kid” and with that he runs from the party. Poppy moves towards Bea, her hand cups the part of Bea’s neck with the cut and she turns to look at AJ, whose eyes are blank like he’s just seen a ghost.

“AJ, I-” Bea steps towards AJ who just looks at Bea with grief and embarrassment, “I’m sorry Bea” he puts the gun back in his waistband and runs off without looking back.

“What the fuck, Bea are you okay?” Poppy begins to examine the wound but Bea’s thoughts are enveloped in everything that just happened, her body trembles slightly as she takes in the fact that AJ now has a gun. In the background of the commotion, the fireworks are set off, colouring the sky in an array of colours but the girls can barely focus on them since they knew they were in deep shit.

read part 5 here

#playchoices #queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #star crossed lovers

95 notes · View notes

radiantroope · 5 years ago

Text

Ruins || Pope Heyward

pairing: pope x reader

mentions: john b x reader if you squint, jj, kiara

requested: no

summary: pope forces you to come clean about your feelings and his reaction isn’t what you hoped.

warnings: angst, a swear word or two, underage drinking

word count: 2.4k+

author’s note: don’t ask where this came from, i was in an angsty mood. there’s a lil fluff but it’s mostly angst. finally felt the urge to write and this was the result <3 i also haven’t edited this yet so sorry for any grammatical errors

masterlist | add yourself to my tag list

Pope Heyward was your best friend in the whole world. Sure, you had Kiara, JJ, and John B — but Pope was your person. He was a breath of fresh air when you broke the surface of the ocean’s waves. He was a cold glass of water on a hot Summer's day. He was your anchor when you felt like the weight of growing up was going to crush you.

The two of you had grown up together thanks to the close friendship of your mothers. You realized your feelings for him ran deeper when you were thirteen.

It had been a day of surfing for the Pogues. Your board glided through the water effortlessly and you tried out some tricks you'd learned over the years. Though, the end of your board tipped a little too far and you were sent tumbling into the water. Everyone had laughed seeing you wipe out, until you didn't immediately resurface.

"Y/N!" Pope screamed, only seeing your board floating on the water.

The Pogues laid on their boards and paddled as quick as they could towards the lonesome object in the water. You would've thought Pope was in the Olympics with how quickly he moved through the saltwater, as if his life depended on it. Just as he reached the board, you broke the surface, desperately gasping for air.

"Y/N," Pope breathed, sliding off his board and helping you back into your own. The sea water momentarily blinded you and you were slapping the water trying to find it. "Breathe, you're okay," he muttered as you straddled your board and coughed harshly.

Once you had finally caught your breath and your coughing had subsided, you looked at your best friend. He was wading the water with one hand on your board, the other rubbing over your back in a soothing fashion. The utter fear in his eyes made your breath hitch as he stared up at you.

"You scared the hell out of me," Pope said through a small laugh but the concerned look never left his face. His hand lingered on your lower back and made goosebumps rise on your skin. He removed it only to grab your hand and squeeze it gently.

You smiled softly at him and returned the squeeze, whispering, "I'm sorry. I'm okay."

Pope gave you a small smile and brought your hand to his lips, placing a quick kiss on the top of it. After that, everyone decided to call it a day. You're incident had given them all a scare and they weren't going to risk something happening again.

That was three years ago. You'd gone three years harboring these feelings for your best friend that you couldn't shake. John B and JJ were no strangers to your feelings. They saw the way you looked at Pope, longing and desperate. A look that was never returned — instead given to the other girl of the group.

That's where you were now, sitting on the edge of the HMS Pogue as John B drove it through the marsh. The sun had started to set and you all decided to head back for the Chateau for some much needed dinner. You'd managed to scrounge up some money picking up shifts with Heyward and decided to order pizza.

Your sunglasses were pulled down over your eyes and you couldn't tear them away from the scene in front of you. Pope and Kiara sat at the back of the boat, shoulder to shoulder. The stunning brunette girl kept giggling at whatever Pope said, playfully slapping at his chest. Pope's eyes were fixated on her, a shining smile adorning his face that grew wider each time Kiara laughed.

Your jaw was set tight — lips pursed. Your eyes tore away from them when you felt a kick against your foot. JJ was laid out on the deck, leaning his weight on his elbow. He'd been watching you glare daggers into the other two for the last ten minutes.

"You okay?" JJ's voice wasn't audible, he simply mouthed the words. He knew the answer but he was hoping you wouldn’t lie to him for once.

The nod you sent him caused him to give you a look that said, I know that's not true. You looked away, instead watching as the Chateau came into view. You stood and moved to other side of the small boat to tie it off.

John B got up to assist you as you watched JJ, Pope and Kiara exit the boat. The curly haired girl shrieked as Pope hoisted her in the air and went running up the dock with her over his shoulder. You felt your chest tighten and looked down to focus on the knot your shaking hands attempted to tie.

"Y/N, maybe you should tell him," John B suggested, knowing the others were far enough away they wouldn't hear him. He was the only one you’d explicitly told how you felt.

"And ruin everything? Yeah, I'd rather let heartbreak eat away at me than be humiliated when he says he doesn't feel the same way," you scoffed and grabbed your backpack off the deck.

"How do you know he doesn't?"

You were standing on the dock now, typing the number of your favorite pizza place into your phone. You looked at John B incredulously and let out a humorless laugh, "Did you completely miss what happened all day? He's practically in love with Kiara, JB. He barely said a word to me cause he was so transfixed on her. I'm not going to let my feelings complicate things within the group."

Your snappy tone and the way you walked away with your phone to your ear signaled the end of that conversation. John B's lips turned down in a frown as he watched you go. He could see the pain in your eyes and it upset him that you were so hurt. The truth was, even he didn't know if Pope reciprocated your feelings. It really did seem like that boy was putting all his eggs in Kiara's basket.

You placed the order as you made your way into the Chateau and towards John B's bedroom to change. One large supreme, one large hawaiian, and two large pepperoni and jalapeño. When you got to splurge on eating out, you did it right — even if you didn't finish it all, eating cold pizza in the morning while nursing a hangover was heavenly.

You closed John B's door and changed into a sports bra and a hoodie. You put on a fresh pair of undies and slipped your jean shorts back on. When you stayed at the Chateau, you typically slept on the pullout with Kiara, but your things were kept in the Routledge boy's room, which he didn't mind. Seeing all of his friends things everywhere made him feel like he wasn't so alone, distracting him from the fact that his father was no longer there.

Twenty minutes later you were all crowded in the living room digging into the boxes of pizza littering the coffee table. Moans of satisfaction left each of your mouths and everyone thanked you for generously splurging on the feast. You waved them all off, insisting it was no big deal. It was rare for The Pogues to ever have this opportunity unless Mr. Carrera gave you scraps at The Wreck that would've been thrown out anyway.

You'd been nursing your second beer of the night for almost an hour while JJ and John B were well into their sixth. Kiara was on her fourth and Pope had barely taken a sip of one. You don't know if it was because of the alcohol but seeing the curly haired girl across from you offer a bite of her half eaten slice of hawaiian to Pope, that without hesitation he bit into, made your blood boil. Your brow furrowed and you averted your gaze your crumb ridden paper plate.

"Pope, stop! Just let me have a bite!" you heard Kiara whine, knowing the boy was offering her a bite of his supreme but pulled it away whenever her lips got close — something he used to do with you.

You downed your beer in record time, catching the attention of a curly haired brunette boy and a shaggy haired blonde. You got up from your spot on the floor and walked into the kitchen, slamming your empty can on the counter. You grabbed a new one from the fridge and exited the Chateau without a word to anyone. You weren't usually much of a drinker so it was a bit surprising to them all.

The hammock that was gently blowing in the wind was calling your name, despite how many nights you remember being curled up under Pope's arm on it. You flopped down and cracked open your beer, staring out into the darkness around you. All you could hear was the gentle sound of moving water, crickets chirping happily in the grass and leaves brushing together in the wind.

You didn’t want to be mad at Kiara or Pope. It wasn’t their fault you had these feelings that wouldn’t go away. It’s not their fault you couldn’t build up the nerve to tell Pope how you felt or how much it bothered you that he was always all over Kiara. But when you saw them together this overwhelming sense of rage filled your body, rage you’d never before experienced. Sometimes you wished you couldn’t feel anything at all and maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Hey,” you were pulled out of your daze by Pope’s voice.

You could see him walking towards you in the dark and you tried to muster a smile. He didn’t sit himself on the hammock beside you like he normally would, instead he stood in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. You took a sip of your beer and averted your gaze to your lap, feeling scrutinized by his amber colored eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head and bit the inside of your cheek as you mumbled out, “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. You’ve been acting weird all day,” the sharpness of Pope’s tone caused a pit in your stomach. He was always so calm and gentle with you, despite an outburst, but now he seemed upset. “You’ve been mean to Kie all day and everyone’s noticed.”

You couldn’t stop the roll of your eyes when he mentioned the other girl. To him, it’s all about her. Your jaw set tight and you didn’t answer him. Anything that came out of your mouth in that moment was only going to make everything worse.

“You swore you’d never lie to me,” Pope stated, a desperate tone to his voice now. “That’s our golden rule. You swore.”

Memories flashed in your mind, back to when you and Pope were only eight years old.

“We have to promise, no matter what, we won’t ever lie to each other. Lies tear friendships apart and I never want that to happen to us,” Pope’s voice was so innocent but his words were so powerful. His big doe eyes stared into your own as he held his pinky out to you.

“I swear i’ll never lie to you Pope. You’re my best friend in the whole world,” you sealed it by wrapping your pinky around his own, toothy grins on display.

The founding principle of your friendship was honesty — something that transcended with the other Pogues when you befriended them. Pogues don’t lie to Pogues. But you weren’t lying, you were just protecting yourself, him and your friendship with the others. Though, something about his words sparked something in you.

“I’ve been acting weird because you’re too god damn oblivious for your own good,” you desperately tried to keep your voice calm and level. “I’ve been mean to Kie because watching you throw yourself at her is ripping me in two and you don’t even see it.”

Pope stared at you, not knowing how to react to your confession. He blinked and waited for you to continue, knowing once you started you couldn’t stop.

“I’ve tried so hard to not let my feelings interfere with our friendship but I can’t pretend anymore. I cant pretend I haven’t been in love with you for the last three years, probably more, and that I don’t wish I was the one you were cuddled up with on the boat or sharing your pizza with. Watching you fall in love with someone else is more painful than anything I’ve ever known, Pope, and you’re blind to it.”

Hot tears were now running down your cheeks. You searched your best friend’s face for any sort of reaction. He had this look in his eyes that you couldn’t read and the pit in your stomach grew. He doesn’t feel the same way.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” Pope’s voice trailed off as he hugged his arms around himself tighter.

Everything came crumbling around you as you fought back the sobs in your chest. You got up from the hammock and tried to make your escape. He reached for your arm but you shrugged him off. She was giving you this look that said I’m so sorry, but you didn’t want his sympathy. It’s not his fault your feelings were one sided. You just couldn’t help but feel like you’d just ruined everything.

You burst back into the Chateau, tear stains on your cheeks and hot, fresh tears blurring your vision. You walked past the other’s who were still gathered in the living room. You tried to gather your things from John B’s room as fast as you could, shoving them into the backpack you kept in the corner.

“Hey, hey,” John B’s voice was gentle as he came up behind you.

“I told you! I told you it would ruin everything!” you wailed and fought against the boy’s grip on your shoulders.

You just wanted to leave but John B wasn’t going to let you in your current state. He pulled you back and collapsed on the floor, back against his bed as you fell into his chest between his legs. You curled into him and sobbed against his neck. Ugly, throat tearing cries left your mouth.

John B squeezed you close with one arm and the other held the back of your head. He shushed you gently and whispered empty promises that everything would be okay. He made eye contact with JJ who stood in the doorway, an uneasy look swimming in his cerulean eyes.

Deep down the three of you knew that everything was going to change.

tags: @ims0golden @jjmaybcnks @letsgofullkook @queenk00k @jjmbanks @sortagaysortahigh @jjsmentalpolaroids

120 notes · View notes

fantastic-bby · 5 years ago

Text

One Month

Pairing: (F)Reader x Youngjae

Word count: 4.3k

Genre: Fluff | Romance | Non-Idol!AU | Soulmate AU

Summary: While you’ve completely given up the idea of soulmates and love completely, Youngjae’s convinced that he can change your mind. Although the only thing he has is your long friendship, he’s willing to spend a whole month trying to win your heart...

Warnings: -

It’s ridiculous. That’s what you thought. There was no such thing as ‘strings’ or ‘akaito’. You had been through way too much pain to even think about the possibility of a soulmate. The dream of finding your soulmate had been crushed one too many times, and you had concluded that they just simply didn’t exist.

That thought also made you feel bitter whenever you saw couples in the streets. You wondered how they were so lucky to actually be compatible when all of your previous lovers had failed to be compatible with you. You were convinced that no one could change your mind.

Youngjae thought otherwise.

“She just doesn’t believe in soulmates,” he sighs just as Coco jumps onto his lap.

“Does she not believe in soulmates or does she just not want a relationship?” Mark asks as he hands Youngjae a mug of tea.

“Could be both.” Another sigh leaves his lips as he looks down at the steaming beverage.

Mark sits himself next to him, “How are you so sure about this anyway? Have you ever asked her directly?” He sips his own drink as he watches Youngjae.

“I’ve known (Y/n) since we were in college. I’m always the person she comes to when her boyfriends break up with her.” Youngjae pauses to run his hand through Coco’s coily fur. “She hasn’t dated anyone since her last ex. Apparently, she’s completely given up the idea of love and soulmates completely.”

“But you’re sure that she’s your soulmate,” Mark adds. He nods.

“Hyung, every time I see her I get this feeling - it’s like my heart could probably pop out of my chest and fly towards her!” He almost spills his tea when he throws his arms up into the air; his hands scrambling to steady the cup.

“If you spill that; you’re cleaning my couch,” the older man jokes. “Talk to her.” His statement makes Youngjae turn to him. “If you want her so badly, make a deal with her or something. Ask her to give you…” Mark trails off as he tries to plan it in his mind. His face lights up, “Ask her to give you time. See if you can convince her to believe in love again.”

“Doesn’t that make me sound like a dick?” Youngjae questions.

Mark hums for a moment before shaking his head, “You’re giving her a challenge. She’s gonna challenge herself to not fall in love with you, but when she does, she’ll fall harder than she realised.” It seems like a foolproof plan. Youngjae’s known you for six years. He knows you better than anyone else and he’d bet that he knows you better than you know yourself.

He stays at Mark’s apartment for a bit longer, planning what Youngjae should do in order to win your heart. They’ve concluded that showing up at your apartment in the middle of the night would not only be irrational but it would also annoy the hell out of you.

“Find some time to talk to her,” Mark says. “You guys have those monthly movie nights, right? Bring it up to her then.” His suggestion implants itself into Youngjae’s mind. The man carries the thought with him as he heads home, leash in hand and Coco running by his side.

“Doesn’t seem like a bad idea, right, Coco?” Youngjae looks down to face his tiny dog. The maltese only turns her head to look up at him, tongue hanging out of her mouth as she pants. “Yeah, you don’t think it’s a bad idea,” he concludes as they continue with their walk home.

As he walks, Youngjae wonders why you’ve never felt what he’s felt. He’s so certain that you’re his soulmate, but it always felt like something was missing. Every time he sees you, it’s like a glass of ice water on a hot day. Whenever he touches you, his entire body buzzes with joy. It just makes him wonder why can’t you feel it, too? Or if you do, why don’t you say anything?

He honestly thought he was crazy when he first met you. Youngjae just saw you as radiant and beautiful, but you always seemed to see him as a friend. So, that’s what he was to you; your best friend. He considered telling you what he felt on the inside when you were graduating, but Youngjae was discouraged whenever he saw you with one of the engineering students.

“Do you even think she would agree to it?” He questions Coco as he walks into the lift of his apartment. Coco sits patiently and looks up at him, tilting her head. “She would...right?”

»»————-　　————-««

“Pizza?” You suggest as you lean over your counter, phone in hand and eyes watching Youngjae.

“I’m fine with anything,” he shrugs as he pulls a bottle of soju out from your fridge. “Wine, soju or no alcohol?” You click your tongue as you think about it. You could skip the alcohol and avoid the possibility of a hangover in the morning - which could save you stress from work - or you could just have wine and drink the night away with Youngjae by your side.

“Fuck it; wine. My boss is driving me nuts.” Youngjae says no more as he puts the soju back in to grab the large bottle of red wine and places it on the counter.

He rummages through your cabinets to pull our two wine glasses, “What did he do this time?”

“He promoted that asshole in my office who’s only been working there for a year! I worked my ass off for four years, flew to Shanghai on my own last year because Kayla was sick, I got the company three different projects in the past two years, and Jason gets promoted because his daddy’s the CEO! Youngjae, he doesn’t even know how to use the editing software. He’s part of the editing team and he doesn’t know how to edit jack shit.” When you’re finished with your rant, Youngjae chuckles as he slides a glass of wine towards you.

“Why don’t you make friends with him and convince him to promote you?” he suggests nonchalantly.

“He’s an arrogant asshole who pushed my coffee out of my hands the other day in front of the office,” you deadpan. Youngjae’s face contorts into a grimace.

“He’s lucky none of us work with you or he’d get some sense beaten into him,” he chuckles.

“Can’t you just bring Jackson to the office one day? He doesn’t even need to do anything, he just needs to stand there and flex. Jason would piss himself the moment he sees Jackson’s big ass muscles,” you jokingly say.

“I’m not going to send my friends to your office just to scare them,” Youngjae snorts.

You let out a whine and pout, “I was just joking. But all jokes aside, I really wanna-” You imitate the action of strangling someone, aggressively shaking your hands back and forth while he laughs at you.

“Violence is never the answer, (Y/n).”

“Wouldn’t you know.” You turn to him and raise an eyebrow, silently reminding him of that fight he got into when you were still in college.

“Wh- We were twenty-two!” He scoffs, “That guy was drunk and he probably would’ve hurt Yugyeom!” You cross your arms over your chest and raise an eyebrow at him. Youngjae’s nose scrunches up in annoyance as he grumbles, “Okay, fine - I was jealous! Was that what you wanted to hear?”

You roll your eyes, “Why would you be jealous? We were just dancing.” You pick up the wine bottle and your glass, turning around to make your way to the living room.

“Because I was in love with you.” You freeze in your tracks. You slowly turn around, seeing Youngjae’s eyes trailed to the ground.

“W-What?” You watch in shock as he takes a deep breath, running a hand through his dark brown hair.

“I’ve been in love with you since we first met,” he confesses. “A-And I don’t know how you haven’t noticed at all in the past six years.” Youngjae’s looking at you now; soft brown eyes holding so much desperation that you can’t help but feel guilty.

“Y-Youngjae,” you place the glass onto the counter and rest the palm of your hands onto the smooth marble surface, “You know I don’t date anymore. I’m…” you turn away from him, not liking how vulnerable you suddenly felt. Usually, it wouldn’t mind that Youngjae would see this side to you, but now, it felt different. “I don’t believe in love anymore. It scares me.”

He rounds the counter and stands in front of you, “I promise I would never hurt you. Please, if you just give me a chance, I’ll prove to you that maybe love does exist.” You eye him skeptically. How could he change your mind? But more importantly: how have you been so unaware of his feelings towards you? “I bet I could make you fall in love with me in one month.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You maintain your skeptical gaze, your arms crossed over your chest. It would be an interesting bet to see if Youngjae could play his cards right to make you change your mind. He also knows that you’re not the type of person to turn down bets.

“What would be in it for me?” Your question makes him smirk.

“If you don’t fall in love, I’ll make you dinner every night for a whole month.” You cock an eyebrow at the tempting offer.

“But, what if I do?” you tilt your head curiously.

“If you fall in love, then we get together,” Youngjae tells you. You think over the bet as you stare at him. “It would benefit both of us if you do end up falling in love, and I’ll prove to you that love isn’t all that bad.”

You purse your lips into a straight line. You’re sure that you could win the deal. After all, you’ve managed to go through a friendship with Youngjae without falling in love with him. “Deal.”

“The month begins tomorrow,” he smiles.

»»————-　　————-««

Date One

Youngjae: Are you busy tonight?

(Y/n): Nope

Youngjae: Let’s go out. Wear something casual. I’ll be there by eight.

You stare at his message. You were preparing yourself in being adamant on not falling in love with him - actually, you were just convinced that he would be unable to change your mind. After the years of heartbreak and betrayal by your past lovers, you just couldn’t believe in the idea of true love. Dating was scratched out of your life by the time you were twenty-two and the idea of marriage was tossed out the window on your twenty-third birthday.

Though, you were curious on just how far Youngjae would go in order to win your heart. So, by seven you were already getting ready. You look through your close, opting for just a crop top and a pair of denim shorts. The summer was starting to make the temperature rise day-by-day and you were certain that even at night, it was still going to be quite warm.

You hear the doorbell to your apartment ringing right as you’re grabbing your bag from your bed. You head out of your bedroom and open the door to see Youngjae nervously standing outside of your apartment. He quickly changes his stance when he realises the door is open and smiles,

“Shall we?” You step out of your apartment and follow by his side.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” You question, glancing over at him.

“It’s a surprise, but you’ll love it.” Youngjae turns to you with a smile. You raise an eyebrow as he leads you out of your apartment. “It’s walking distance, but that’s all I’ll tell you,” he says when he sees the questioning look on your face. Your mind wanders to the possibilities of where he’s taking you while you both walk. It’s only when you see it that it hits you.

“The Summer Funfair!” You gasp loudly and turn to him. Youngjae has his usual bright smile on his face as he nods. He pulls out a tiny pouch filled with tokens that he had bought a week prior for the fair. When you saw that there was going to be a funfair nearby your house, you failed to leave Youngjae in the dark about it. You had bugged him about accompanying you halfway through spring when it was announced.

“You kept saying you wanted to check it out, so I thought that I could bring you here for our first date.” There’s a pink tint to his cheeks as he speaks. For the first time, you realise how cute he looks when he blushes. Youngjae pulls you through the large floral decorated gates, the two of you immediately being enveloped by a sense of joy and excitement. Children run past you, couples hold hands as they wander through the fair and Youngjae hopes he can hold yours.

You turn to Youngjae, “Can we ride the pirate ship?” Your finger points to the large ship that swings through the air in the distance and your best friend swears he feels his entire soul leaving his body as he watches it.

“(Y/n), y-you know I don’t handle heights well,” he gulps.

“Youngjae, please,” you pout. “You can’t tell me that you bring me here but we can’t ride the pirate ship.” You cross your arms over your chest as Youngjae stares at you with a gaping mouth and wide eyes. He lets out a deep sigh before nodding. You let out an excited squeal and grab his hand, dragging him straight to the ride.

All he can think of, though, is the feeling of your hand in his. Youngjae feels that familiar buzzing sensation that he gets every time your skin touches his as he looks at the way you’re completely oblivious to how he’s watching you.

When you reach the line to the fair, it seems that lady luck is by your side since there’s barely a line. Youngjae feels his stomach sink when he realises that means, “We can sit at the very back!” You turn to him with sparkling eyes. Your excitement is the only thing that keeps him from backing out and he chuckles before nodding awkwardly.

Youngjae watches the ship swing all the way to the top, stopping as it hangs upside down and he can’t help but know he might throw up. He’s lucky he skipped dinner since he knew you’d want to buy food at the fair instead. He watches as you bounce on your feet, waiting for your turn as more people line up behind you.

“(Y/n), I’m not so sure about this…” he trails off when the line starts moving forward.

“Youngjae, you’ll be fine,” you reassure him as you hold onto his wrist once again. “I’ll hold your hand through the whole thing, okay?” He stares at you before realising there’s seriously no way out of this and allows you to pull him towards the ship.

»»————-　　————-««

“(Y/n), I really don’t think I can go on another ride,” Youngjae whines as you continue to pull him through the fair.

“Let’s take a break from the rides, okay?” You turn to him. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at the relieved look on his face. The grumble of his stomach is audible to you and his face immediately flushes red. “Let’s get something to eat before your stomach hurts,” you take his hand and drag him through the crowd once again.

You stop at one of the stalls selling corn dogs and see Youngjae’s face light up. He steps forward to look at the menu, turning around to notice that you’ve disappeared. He stands a bit taller to look for you in the crowd, seeing you standing in front of a game stall with wide eyes. Youngjae lets out a chuckle - how could he have forgotten just how quick you are when you see something that catches your eye.

He buys two corn dogs before walking towards where you are, “What are you looking at?” Youngjae asks when he’s standing beside you while holding one of his hands out.

“That,” you point towards the large panda plushie.

“You were staring at that for five whole minutes?” He questions as he takes a bite out of his corn dog. You nod silently as you by your own. “I’ll win it for you.” Youngjae holds the corn dog in between his teeth as he goes up.

“Shoot all the cans down and you get to choose your prize,” the venodor tells him. He gestures to the sign sitting on the wooden counter reading “four tokens”. Youngjae digs into his pocket to pull out his tokens - all the while with the corn dog still in his mouth - before handing it to the man who hands him the toy gun.

You stand by his side, munching away at the snack in your hands as you watch him shoot the cans. You glance over at Youngjae, your mind filling with amusement at the sight of him with a toy rifle and a corn dog hanging from his mouth. You pull your phone out of your pocket and quickly snap a photo of him.

“You better win me that panda or I’ll send this to your friends,” you threaten playfully as you wave the phone in front of him. Youngjae gives you a warning glare before successfully shooting down the last can. A surge of joy washes over you and you start bouncing on your feet as you watch him hand the gun back to the man.

“The panda plushie, please,” he says as he finally pulls the corn dog out of his mouth. The vendor turns around and you can feel yourself filling with more excitement as you watch him pull the massive panda plushie off of the shelf. You start bouncing on your feet as the panda comes closer to Youngjae who takes it from the man, thanking him with a smile before he turns to you, “Ta da!”

You take the large plushie from him, your bottom lip caught between your teeth to stop yourself from smiling too wide - you’re still smiling anyway. “Thank you, Youngjae!” You hug the panda to yourself with one arm while you open your other arm at him. He can’t stop his own smile as he hugs you, his right hand held out behind you to keep the mustard on the corn dog from accidentally touching you.

When he pulls away, he’s still smiling, “Do you like it?” You nod ecstatically. Youngjae’s smile grows, his arm stays wrapped around your shoulder as you start to walk once again.

“What ride should we go on next?” You wonder out loud, causing him to pull his arm away from you.

“Please not the roller coaster,” he groans. You look between him and the loop-the-loop in the distance before grabbing his hand and dragging him straight there.

»»————-　　————-««

Date Two

“Movie night?” you question when you see Youngjae standing outside with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a plastic bag held in the other. He nods, a small smile pulling on his lips. You let him into your apartment and take the bag from his hands.

“There’s a whole bag of popcorn in there and two cans of sprite.”

“I’ll put the popcorn in the bowl,” you tell him, “go ahead and choose a movie.” Youngjae obliges and heads towards your living room. When you enter the living room with a bowl of popcorn, he’s already chosen a movie. “Zootopia?” He nods as he presses play just as you plop yourself on the spot beside him.

“You haven’t seen it, but you promised me a few years ago that you would. So, now I’m gonna make you watch it,” he hums.

"Are you turning me into a furry?” you narrow your eyes at him accusingly. Youngjae bellows with laughter as he shakes his head.

“I just know you’ll like it.”

»»————-　　————-««

"Are you crying?" Youngjae looks at you, stunned. You turn to him with tears streaming down your face and point at the screen,

"H-Her crying made me sad." He feels his insides soften and he coos before opening his left arm. You cuddle into his side without much thought and rest your head against his chest.

"You're so cute," he chuckles and glances down at you.

"You get amusement out of my crying?" You glare at him accusingly. Youngjae stares at your glare before doing something he's hesitated with for years; he leans down and kisses your forehead.

"I just said you're cute - nothing else.” You look up at him with cheeks flushed from the gesture. Youngjae only smiles at you softly. You look into his brown eyes and feel butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“That’s weird,” you think out loud as you turn away from him. He hums questioningly but you shake your head, “I-it’s nothing.” You’re more confused than ever at the thought of Youngjae being the person who makes you feel the way you do. Throughout the rest of the movie, your mind is occupied by how he’s treated you.

“Are you okay? You seem a bit distant,” Youngjae asks as he turns to look at you. You’re snapped out of your thoughts and nod quickly.

“I’m fine,” you reassure him. He gives you a weird look but doesn’t question further and instead, stands to bring the empty bowl into your kitchen. Once you’re alone, you continue to think about Youngjae - or more specifically, his actions. The night ends with you bidding him goodbye at your front door where he waves as you close the door. You lean against the door and think about it further.

Maybe Youngjae would find your heart easier to win than you thought.

»»————-　　————-««

Date Three

You step into the cafe with wide eyes. “This cafe is so cute!” you gasp when you look around at the white walls decorated with fake vines hanging from the ceiling.

“I told you you’d like it,” Youngjae chuckles as he watches how you admire the entire cafe. He loves to watch how excited you get around cute things. “Go ahead and sit down first, I’ll order for you.” You oblige, heading off to one of the tables by the large window that outlooks the street. You sit down and watch as Youngjae lines up at the counter.

You tell yourself it’s because he’s trying to win your heart when you can’t help but admire his efforts. Youngjae truly is a gentleman. Whether or not you failed to pay attention to him throughout the years of your friendship was something that you debated over silently. Youngjae returns to you while you’re still lost in thought, the sound of his placing a tray on the table being the reason you come back to reality.

“I got you macaroons and iced tea,” he says as he places the tall glass in front of you. Youngjae takes the plate off of the tray as well as his own drink before moving the tray aside. You coo when you see the macarons.

“They look like little kitties.” You pull out your phone and snap a quick photo of the cutely decorated macarons before gingerly picking up a mint green one. The cat face and ears are drawn on with chocolate and you almost feel bad for eating it because of how cute it is.

“(Y/n), you can’t just stare at it forever,” Youngjae chuckles when he sees your hesitation.

“I can’t just eat it, it’s so cute,” you pout and turn the dessert around to show him the cat face. “Would you eat me, Youngjae?” you move the macaron around him as though the cat was talking to him. He swipes the macaron from your hand and pops the whole thing in his mouth. A smile grows on Youngjae’s face when he sees your gobsmacked expression. “You’re so heartless.”

“If you don’t want to eat them, I’ll eat all of them.” His hand hovers over the rest of the macarons threateningly and it causes you to slowly pull the plate closer to you.

“Nuh uh, I’m not going to let stone cold Youngjae eat all of them.” You decide against looking at the macaron since you know you might feel bad again - you honestly don’t know why you do - and pop it into your mouth. The moment you bite into it, the sweet and citrusy flavour of it envelopes your tongue.

“You’re adorable,” Youngjae chuckles, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tries not to smile too wide at you. You face contorts in confusion at the sudden statement. “You were doing that happy dance you do whenever you eat something you like.” Your entire body freezes and you’re surprised when you feel flustered.

You silently take a sip from your drink to avoid saying anything. Youngjae lets out another chuckle but decides against commenting on your flustered state. You look away from him and out the window, desperately trying to make your blush go away as quickly as possible. He watches with a small smile on his face. He’s made you flustered before, but he’s never made you this flustered.

"Anyway," you clear your throat, "what's your plan for the whole month?"

"There is no plan," he states. You give him a confused look. "I'm just going to treat you like I always do. I know you better than anyone else, and I'll use what I know to win your heart."

"You sound pretty confident in yourself, huh?" you tease. Youngjae smiles before reaching over to take your hand in his,

"It's because I know I do." You look down at his hand that's holding yours so gingerly, his thumb running over your knuckles. You watch as he suddenly stands and rounds the table to sit at the empty seat beside yours.

Youngjae leans towards you and kisses you. You swear there's a switch inside you that flicks the moment his lips are on yours because you know,

You know you didn't love him this way before.

58 notes · View notes

babyrides · 6 years ago

Text

Memory

Genre: Smut

Word count: 2097

Summary: Having a rival as hot as Yunho can be pretty infuriating at times

Warning: Mentions of alcohol, cursing, semi-public sex????

(A/N): omg my first full scenario in so long pls do not judge me oof also this is the longest scenario I have on here now and I wrote it in one night it’s 100% unedited basically don’t judge if it’s bad I just have a lot of feelings about Yunho

EDIT: the premise of this is heavily based off of the otome game Irresistible Mistakes!

The shrill blare of your alarm invaded a vague dream about lingering kisses and hands on your body. Your head felt like it was full of cotton, and the sunlight hurt your eyes when you tried to open them. You groaned, reaching to hit the snooze button on your phone, but instead of the cool metal or the wood of your nightstand your hand found nothing but a plush comforter. You tried to open your eyes again, cracking them just enough to realize that you were not in your bed. Or even in your apartment, for that matter. You roll over to the other side, finally spotting your purse with its contents spilling onto the chair next to the bed. You grabbed your phone and turned off the alarm, now fully awake. Information from your other senses began to filter in; you heard the shower, felt the soft cotton sheets against your bare body, saw your panties (or, at least, what was left of them) draped over the corner of the television. As you began to connect the dots, your eyes widened and you scrambled to dress yourself and collect your belongings.

You managed to make it back to your apartment in one piece, but not without difficulty; with each step the ache between your legs and the shakiness of your thighs became increasingly evident. Flinging your heels into your bedroom, you collapsed on your couch and tried to collect the thoughts swirling through your mind.

You knew there was a big company dinner last night to celebrate a successful year. You could remember arriving, uncomfortably tugging at your evening gown and scanning the room for someone you knew. Admittedly, you were uncomfortable at parties, especially fancy ones like these. But you were also gearing up for a promotion, and you knew the best way to guarantee that spot would be to network. So you had grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and braced yourself before diving into the fray.

You groaned from your position on the couch, shaking your head as if that would help organize your memories. Any time you tried to retrace your steps further than that first glass, your train of thought was interrupted by memories of pleasure. You hadn’t had that much to drink at a work function, had you?

Of course, the level of drunkenness you had reached mattered little in comparison to the fact that you had slept with someone from work. Not only that, but you had also left without saying goodbye in the morning. It could have been anyone, and your stomach dropped as you realized you had only a few hours before you had to encounter them again.

You showered quickly, though the warm water felt so nice on your aching muscles you wanted nothing more than to stay under the stream forever. You finished composing yourself, carefully covering the marks littering your neck before rushing to work, hoping to get there and get working before having to encounter the person from last night. While it appeared you had been successful at first, you soon found your thoughts drifting away from work. You glanced around every few minutes to see if any faces sparked a memory, but nothing did. The more you thought about it, the more distracted you became.

Finally you shook your head and stood to grab a cup of coffee from the machines around the corner. You absentmindedly drummed your fingers on the counter as it brewed. Why had you repressed the memory? If the fuzzy memories you had retained served, you had certainly enjoyed yourself. Had you slept with your boss? No, that didn’t add up; not only was he married, but he was much older, and the soft singing voice you’d heard in the shower this morning definitely belonged to a younger man. Was it someone under you? An intern, maybe? The thought made you nauseous.

“And what are you so deep in thought about on this fine morning, missy?” The voice was right next to your ear, making you jump. You turned to see Jeong Yunho leaning against the counter, smirking at you. He had a lollipop in his mouth, because of course he did. You rolled your eyes at the tall boy, grabbing your now finished coffee and beginning to add cream to it.

“It’s afternoon,” you said, giving full attention to stirring your drink. “What’s with the lollipop? Did you get it for being a good boy at the doctor’s while they took care of your hangover?” You skirted the question with ease. Not only was Yunho the office golden boy, naturally good at whatever task got thrown at him, but he was also your direct rival, going for the same promotion as you. Any chance he got to throw you under the bus, he would take, so there was no way you were letting him catch wind of the previous night’s escapades.

He pulled the candy out of his mouth with a loud pop, discarding it in the trash can next to the counter, his wrist brushing against your hip in the process. “Nah, that’s my personal stash. They say you should draw attention to your lips, right?” He punctuated the sentence with a wink before sauntering to his desk. Actually, you just noticed he hadn’t been there earlier, and you smiled to yourself. Showing up halfway through the work day certainly didn’t help his chances at the position. You made your own way back to your desk, your head clearer than it had been all day.

You ended up staying late due to your unproductive morning, completely engrossed in your work as people filtered out. You had an important deadline coming up, and you wanted to at least finish this one element…

“Done!” You exhaled in relief as you saved your file, closing your laptop and packing it up. You pull out your phone to call a taxi as you gather the rest of your things, not noticing that you’re not alone until you hear a voice.

“Do you always stay this late, or did you just want to get me alone again?” You whip your head around to see Yunho standing from his desk and stretching. His jacket was off, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, and his tie hung loose on his neck. Rival or not, you had to admit he looked good. But what did he mean by “again?”

“I had some stuff to finish up before heading home. What about you? Wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to work hard.” He had crossed the room to lean against the wall by your desk by this point, messenger bag slung over one shoulder and his jacket draped over his other arm.

“I may have had some ulterior motives,” he said with a smirk, briefly glancing at your lips before biting his own.

You scoffed, unamused as usual by his flirting. “You can cut the act now. No one else is around.” The words are thrown casually over your shoulder as you try to head toward the elevator. Within a flash, he’s dropped his things and blocked your path.

“Who’s acting?” His expression darkened, his eyes lingering longer on your lips this time. His arms cage you against your desk, his lips moving to whisper against your ear. “You certainly weren’t last night, baby girl.”

The memories suddenly came flooding back all at once. His full lips on your neck, your hands desperately grasping at his hair as his easily brought you to your climax more times than you could count before he even dropped his pants. The way he fucked you into the hotel mattress when he finally was inside you…

Your jaw dropped without you even realizing, too engrossed in the memory and the shock of knowing you had the best sex of your life with Jeong Yunho to have any control over your own body.

“Did you really forget?” You thought you could hear an edge of real disappointment in his voice underneath the false offense. “Hm. Maybe I can give you a quick refresher?” You finally snap out of your stupor, looking up at him. He raises his eyebrows at you, a silent question that you wish you could refuse. Your body, however, betrayed you, your panties growing uncomfortably wet as the memories came back to you.

You pulled his lips down to connect with yours, your fingers weaving themselves into his already disheveled hair. His hands found your hips and pulled you flush against him, a small sigh leaving his lips at the minimal contact. You take the opportunity to deepen the kiss, taking momentary control while his focus is on other things. He pulls away, and you think you hear him laugh at your attempt to dominate before he’s lifting you onto your desk, his hands planting themselves firmly on your thighs, fingertips brushing just underneath the hem of your skirt as he begins pressing kisses to your neck. You were just beginning to get lost in the feeling of his lips on your neck when you felt his knuckle brush ever so gently over your clothed clit, earning a gasp from you. He grinned against your neck, adding the tiniest bit more pressure as he swiped over you again. “You want my fingers, baby girl?” He practically growled the words, and you merely whimpered in response, scooting your ass forward on the desk so his fingertips were pressing fully against you. He retracted his hand to hike your skirt up to your waist, hooking his fingers into the crotch of your panties.

“Don’t rip them this time,” you chastised him as he put tension on the delicate fabric, causing him to laugh. He pulled a little harder, and you weren’t sure if he was testing the limits of your panties or your patience. “Yunho,” you warned, frowning at him.

He stopped immediately, his breath catching in his throat. “Fuck, say my name again.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. “What, you like it when I scold you? You’re a bratty little sub, aren’t y-” He didn’t even let you finish the thought before plunging two long fingers into you, starting to pump them at an agonizingly slow pace. You gasped at the sudden feeling, your grip on his hair tightening. He curled his fingers inside you, causing you to see stars. Your gasps and sighs quickly evolved into small moans, but it wasn’t enough for him. He dropped to his knees and began to lap at your clit as his fingers sped up.

“Fuck, Yunho, that feels so good,” you moaned, your head tipping back and your eyes screwing shut. You were getting close, and you knew he could tell by the way you were clenching around his fingers.

“Look at me while I make you come, baby girl.” His voice was demanding, making you oblige without even realizing. His wide eyes looked up at you from between your legs, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. The sight alone was enough to push you over the edge, his name falling from your lips like a mantra. He helped you ride it out before standing, holding his fingers still slick with your arousal to your lips. You licked his fingertips before taking both digits into your mouth, cleaning them thoroughly before releasing them with a pop. He groaned at the sight, rutting his still clothed cock against your thigh.

He made quick work of his pants and boxers, lining himself up to your entrance before plunging in in one stroke.

“You feel so good,” he said, his voice barely audible next to your ear. You could only whimper in response, still trying to adjust to his considerable size. After a moment’s hesitation, he began to move at a slow, shallow pace. Your eyes fluttered shut once again as you lost yourself in the feeling. His thrusts were precise, hitting spots in you you never even knew about. Before you knew it, you were on the edge again.

“Fuck, baby, I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.” You nodded in agreement. His grunts and moans had devolved into whines at this point. “Look at me.” Once again you obliged, your forehead resting against his as you fell over the edge again. He followed soon after, stilling inside you.

You stayed like that for a moment, both of you completely silent with his cum trickling out of you. He was the first to break the silence.

“Remember me now?”

#ateez smut #yunho smut #jeong yunho smut #it's 2am when I'm posting this I have class tomorrow and homework do but I did this instead oops

192 notes · View notes

thompsborn · 5 years ago

Note

bakery au with peter parker running the bakery and any ship?

i considered parksborn and spideyflash but for a bakery au parkner just felt the most fitting. (if the format is weird then give it a couple minutes and then try tp refresh because posting on my laptop fucks it up for some reason and i always have to go and edit it on my phone to fix it lmao)

send me an au and a ship !!

[ read this on ao3 ]

—

The first time Harley Keener steps foot into Parker’s Pastries, it’s because of the rain.

It comes out of no where, the storm that rolls in from the east, a fairly normal day starting out a bit overcast suddenly going dark with the clouds, buckets and buckets of rain pouring down with no warning whatsoever. A lot of people get caught in it, hastily pulling out umbrellas and rushing to reach their destinations or wave down a taxi to escape.

Harley is strolling down the sidewalk when it starts to pelt the pavement, and his reaction, with no umbrella, a light jacket, and his wallet not on his person, making a taxi out of the question, is to duck into the closest door.

As soon as he steps inside, he’s enveloped in warm air that’s filled with the smell of something sweet and fresh from the oven. Without even realizing it, tension that he didn’t know he was carrying bleeds from his shoulders, letting them sag in some sort of relief, his damp hair sticking to his forehead as he turns around, tugging his jacket tighter around himself, a shiver running down his spine, and what greets him is a small yet cozy little bakery, with shelves lined with little trinkets and counters loaded with sweets. It’s a simplistic yet rustic little establishment, feeling homey and lived in and comfortable, and the bell above the door behind the register jingles as it gets pushed open and a warm brown eyes belonging to a kind faced woman meet his own calculating and careful blue ones.

“Oh, honey, you look like you’re freezing,” the woman says, clicking her tongue as she sets a plate of fresh cinnamon rolls down on the countertop, her eyes wide with sympathy and worry as she rounds the register and beckons him over. “Come here, sweetie, let’s get you warmed up. C’mon, come sit, don’t worry.”

There’s something so genuinely kind and caring about the way the woman speaks, paired with how her hair is frizzy and falling out of the loose bun she’s got pulled to the top of her head, round glasses perched on her nose and a flour covered apron tied round her waist, and Harley does not know her, no, but he hugs himself tighter and steps forward and doesn’t complain in the slightest when she guides him to a seat.

“Peter, honey,” the woman calls out, over her shoulder, as she frets over how soaked through Harley’s jacket is, her lips set in a worried frown. “Can you come out here for a second?”

A moment later, the door swings open again, and the person standing in it is a boy that looks to be about Harley’s age, an apron on that’s got various colored stains on it, the black shirt he’s wearing beneath the apron covered with speckles and hand prints of white. His hair is just long enough to be tucked behind his ears in wisps of curls that fall loose when he cocks his head to the side and lets out a little hum. “Yeah, May?”

“Can you bring out a towel, please?” The woman—May, apparently—scans over Harley for a long moment, then adds, “And one of Ben’s old sweatshirts, too. There should be one in the office that I left in there last night.”

“No,” Harley tries to say. “I’m fine, really—”

The boy, Peter, frowns at Harley with a furrowed brow. “Your lips are turning blue.”

Harley shakes his head. It sends droplets of water flying to the floor and onto the table that May had him sit at. “Really, I don’t need—”

May clicks her tongue again. “We insist.”

“But...” Harley trails off, wanting to be stubborn, always ready to fight tooth and nail because he doesn’t like sympathy, hates being seen as any type of weak, burdening people with something as simple as borrowing warm clothes from complete strangers, but there’s something different about these strangers, something inviting about the way they talk, the way they look at him like they really care despite not knowing him at all. He nods, without meaning to nod, and doesn’t put up the fight that he intended to. “Alright,” he says. “Thank you.”

May shows him to the employee restroom when Peter brings them a towel in one hand and a sweatshirt in the other, giving Harley a wink as she tells him that it’s got more space for him to change, then leaves him to his business, assuring him to take his time and that it’s no problem to them when he tries to once again insist that he doesn’t need their help. When he emerges a few minutes later, his hair a bit fluffier and not as sopping wet thanks to the tower, his soaked through shirt and jacket in hand, replaced by the dark red hoodie that they gave him, he’s greeted by a pink cheeked Peter holding out a plastic bag to put his clothes into before them handing him a steaming mug. “Hot chocolate,” he says.

“Oh.” Harley takes the bag, ties it off when his clothes are shoved inside and sets it down before gingerly accepting the hot cocoa. “Um. Thanks.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Peter says, soft smile on his face. “You look like you need it.”

Harley shuffles his feet, takes a sip from the mug in his hands and gives himself a minute to look around. “I’ve never seen this place before,”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Peter muses, wiping down the counter before taking the place of cinnamon rolls to put them on display. “We’re a small place, not very well known, to be honest. Only reason we stay on our feet is because we have our loyal customers that always come in and keep us running.” He takes a smaller plate and sets a cinnamon roll on it. “You want one? On the house.”

“I’m good,” Harley tells him, shaking his head. “You already gave me cocoa.”

Peter chuckles, tearing off a piece of the cinnamon roll and popping it in his mouth. “If you say so,” he says. “I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.”

“Harley. Harley Keener.”

With a little smile, Peter holds the plate out. “You sure you don’t want any?”

There’s something playful in Peter’s eyes that makes Harley smile, too.

The second time Harley goes into Parker’s Pastries is exactly a week later, and this time, there’s no rain, rather a steady stream of sunlight warming his skin as he pushes open the door and makes his way inside.

“Harley,” May greets warmly, putting a tray of cookies on display. She finishes what she’s doing and wipes her hands before rounding the counter to approach him, her smile wide and warm. “I was wondering if we’d see you again.”

It’s almost overwhelming, the fact that she means it so much, causing a dust of a blush to rise on his cheeks. “I just came to give this back,” he says, holding out the dark red hoodie towards her awkwardly, a sheepish smile on his face. “And, um—I told my—I told, uh—this guy I know, Tony, I told him about you guys, and he told me to pick him up something for him while I was here, so...”

May hums, eyes sparkling as she takes the hoodie. “Does he like cookies?”

Harley thinks, then nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Peanut butter?”

“Sometimes eats it out of the jar with a spoon,” Harley says.

May nods knowingly. “I’ve got just the thing, then. Peter!”

From behind the door, there’s a yelp, a clatter, and then an array of colorful swearing that goes on for a solid thirty seconds before coming to a sudden stop. A moment later, there’s shuffling footsteps, and then the door creaks open, revealing a very rumpled looking Peter standing on the other side.

“Honey,” May says, “I think you’ve got some—”

Peter huffs, blows his hair out of his face and glowers when it falls back in front of his eyes, clumped together with the frosting that he, somehow, got all over himself. “Yeah,” he says, “I think I got it, thanks. Where’s the—oh my god, Harley, hi, you’re—wow, okay, you’re back, and I look like—cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

Harley lifts his hand in a half-assed wave. “Hi, Peter.”

“Hi,” Peter breathes, goes to run his hand through his hair and then grimaces when he just gets the frosting all over his fingers. Without meaning to, Harley lets out a little laugh at the way that Peter crinkles his nose, and Peter looks away at the sound, cheeks tinted red. “What, uh—what’s up, May?”

May looks thoroughly amused by the situation at hand, one brow quirking a bit as her lips tug into a smile. “Are the peanut butter cookies done yet?”

Tilting his hand back and forth in a so-so manner, Peter answers, “Almost? They’re out of the oven, but they’re still cooling off. I was working on icing those cupcakes while they cooled, but then you scared the fuck out of me, and—”

“Language, young man,” May tuts.

“I’m twenty years old, Aunt May,” Peter whines. “I can say the fuck word.”

“You can also lose your job, too,” May threatens, though her smile curves in a way that shows how much she doesn’t mean it, all loving and teasing.

Peter rolls his eyes. “Please, like you could handle this place without me. You can’t make toast without burning it to shit, Aunt May. Ben would be rolling in his grave if you ever tried to bring his recipes to life without my help.”

“I resent that,” May says. “You’re right, but I still resent it. How long until the cookies are cooled off enough to pack up for Harley to take with him?”

Eyes flickering to the door leading to the back, Peter makes a high pitched humming noise, tilting his head back and forth as he thinks, before offering a little shrug and saying, “I dunno, maybe, like, ten minutes or so? If I tried to move them any sooner, they’ll probably still be too hot and just fall apart.”

Harley glances at the clock and smiles, just a bit. “Can I have another cocoa while I wait?”

“Harley,” Peter greets, the bell above the door chiming lightly. “You’re back.”

“And you still have frosting in your hair,” Harley replies.

Peter’s hand flies up to his hair instantly, only to let out a huff when he finds nothing there. “Rude,” he says. “What did your friend think about the peanut butter cookies?”

Harley hums, hands stuffed in his pockets as he rocks back and forth on his feet lightly, shoulders bunching up in a little shrug. “He loved them, but I dunno. Peanut butter isn’t my favorite, so…”

The way that Peter cocks his head to the side is nothing short of adorable. “What is your favorite, then?”

“Got any chocolate chip?” Harley asks, smiling. “Maybe something with butterscotch?”

“Lucky for you,” Peter says, “there’s a fresh batch of both in the oven. You mind waiting?”

Harley shrugs again, smile growing. “Can I have some company while I wait?”

“I dunno, I kind of have a job to do,” Peter replies, plucking a napkin off the counter and fiddling with it. Harley doesn’t respond, just tilts his head slightly to the side and widens his eyes in the signature puppy eyed look that Tony and Pepper have told him could end the world. Peter sinks his teeth into his lower lip and gnaws on it, looking away, looking back, and then laughing lightly. “Fine. Fine. I’ll sit with you. But if May finds out and tries to kick my ass for slacking on her day off, I’m blaming you for it, Keener.”

Harley beams. “I will gladly take that blame.”

There’s no such thing as discreet when you’re walking into a small bakery in Queens with Tony Stark.

Harley knows this—he knows it rather well, learned the same thing when he was adopted eight years ago and tried walking into a frickin’ Starbucks with the guy and they ended up getting mobbed by reporters trying to get the scoop on Stark’s new kid that he was keeping hidden from the world. So, he’s not surprised by the looks they get when they go strolling down the sidewalk together, and he doesn’t flinch at the flash of a camera going off, but he does jump a bit in surprise when they walk into Parker’s Pastries and there’s instantly glass shattering against the floor and someone exclaiming, “Holy shit!”

“Language,” May warns, handing over the change to someone that appears to be buying a cake, sending a half hearted glare Peter’s way before offering the customer a sweet smile. “There you go, Genie,” she says, with a sense of familiarity to her tone. “Tell Jesse happy birthday for us, okay? And try not to miss dinner this Sunday, sweetie. We miss you, even if Peter won’t admit it.”

“May,” Peter hisses from where he’s standing over the remains of a plate of cupcakes, which he clearly must have dropped. He’s got wide eyes that are flickering between Tony and Harley in blatant shock.

Apparently, this is just amusing, as May only chuckles. “Have a good day, dear.”

“Thank you, Aunt May,” the customer—Genie?—replies, all toothy smiles and sharp eyes as he spins around and shuffles out the door, not even sparing Tony or Harley a glance on his way out.

Turning her attention to the two men, May offerings a wide smile and chirpily greets, “Harley, honey, it’s wonderful to see you again. And you brought a friend!”

Harley chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Actually, this is my dad, Tony. Dad, this is May, and that’s Peter. They run the bakery.”

Tony grins, taking off his sunglasses and tucking them into the pocket of his suit jacket, scanning over the store with warm brown eyes, approval bright and clear on his face. “Adorable,” he says, turning in his spot to examine it further. “Gosh, this place is just adorable. No wonder you love it so much, Harls.” He spins back around until he’s facing forward, flashes his grin towards May and Peter. “And this is where you got those cookies? Miss Parker, I’m absolutely in love with your recipe. How do you do it?”

“Actually, the recipe was my husbands,” May responds, bemused. “He was a stress baker, always made sweets and treats after a long day at work. After he passed away, we decided to scrounge up all the money we could and start this place in his memory. Everything we make is based on how he made it.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Tony offers.

May hums. “It was a long time ago, Stark, but thank you.”

“Peter does most of the baking,” Harley cuts in, mostly because Peter has been staring at them with wide, bugged out eyes ever since they walked in and he’s hoping it’ll snap him out of it.

It seems to do that trick, has Peter blinking owlishly and spluttering out a weak, “No, I—I don’t—”

With a chuckle, May cuts in, saying, “No, it’s true. I have bad luck with burning things. Peter’s the one that’s able to bring this all to perfection. He made the batch of cookies that Harley took home with him.”

Tony brightens at that, faces Peter fully and takes two quick strides to close the space between them. He stops a bit short, in order to avoid the smashed plate and cupcakes on the ground, but his grin doesn’t falter, only seems to grow as he says, “Kid, those cookies were the best I’ve ever had. Seriously, it’s a problem. Pepper thinks I’m going to get addicted to them if I buy more, but I decided it’s worth the addiction and begged Harley to bring me here anyway. Can I get a couple dozen? Like, six or seven?”

“Um—” Peter flounders for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Oh my god,” he breathes after a moment. “Tony Stark. Holy shit. I, uh—yes, you can—I’ll make more cookies. Wow.”

“Maybe you should—” Tony gestures to the floor, at the broken glass and smooshed cupcakes.

Peter flinches. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’m gonna—”

May waves her hand. “You go start the cookies,” she tells him. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

“Are you sure?” Peter questions, properly breaking out of his daze just enough to frown her way, looking guilty at the idea of leaving her to clean up after him. “I can pick it up real quick, May, it’s fine.”

“You have seven dozen cookies to make for Tony Stark,” May reminds him. “You should get started.”

Peter gnaws on his lower lip, glances around the room, at May, at Tony, at Harley, and back again, before jutting his chin up and down in a stiff sort of nod and saying, “Yeah, okay, I’ll just—”

And he heads to the back without another word.

Tony looks after him for a moment, then turns to Harley with a smile. “He’s an angel. I approve.”

“Dad,” Harley warns, glaring at Tony before glancing over to make sure May didn’t hear. “Don’t embarrass me or I’m telling Dum-E to set your lab on fire when we get home.”

“It’s cute that you think you can threaten me,” Tony teases. Harley glares harder, but all it does is make Tony laugh before reaching over to ruffle his hair while May acts like she isn’t listening, hiding her smile.

The next time Harley comes in, it’s by himself, no Tony in sight.

“So,” Peter says. “You’re actually Harley Stark.”

Harley clicks his tongue. “Technically, I never changed my name. I still go by Keener most of the time.”

Peter’s lips quirk, just slightly. “I’m not giving you free food now that I know that you’re rich.”

“I’m gonna start leaving ridiculously large tips now that you know that I’m rich.”

“I don’t know why I expected anything different.”

(Before Harley leaves, Peter slides him a cup of hot chocolate, free of charge. Harley, in retaliation, leaves a two hundred dollar tip in the jar. And a sticky note with a heart drawn on it, just because.)

It’s around the thirteenth time that Harley comes to the bakery that, for the first time, Peter isn’t there.

May is still chirpy when she greets him, all smiles and a friendly tone, but when Harley scuffs the toe of his shoe against the ground and gently asks, “Is Peter in the back?” May shakes her head.

“He’s sick,” she tells him. “Came down with the flu, somehow. He wouldn’t let me close the bakery for the day to take care of him, either, and he’s the worst as taking care of himself.”

Harley gnaws on the inside of his cheek and timidly offers, “I mean, I could—I could check on him.”

There’s a knowing glint in May’s eyes as she tips her head forward and says, “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Harley assures quickly. “I don’t—not even a little bit, do I mind. None at all.”

A smile pulls at May’s lips, small and genuine. “You’ll need the spare key to get in, then.”

When finding a place for their bakery to go, Peter and May had been lucky enough to come across a cheap space for sale that also had two apartments above it—perfect, because, while Peter had only been fifteen at the time and wasn’t planning to move out for a while, he’s now reached twenty and wants his own space. The top apartment is May’s, where her and Peter stayed for a few years, and the bottom apartment is Peter’s, which he moved into on his own when he turned eighteen. May gives Harley her key to Peter’s apartment and tells him how to push the door open, as it apparently likes to stick and can be a bit difficult at times, and Harley tries to pretend like his heart isn’t lodged in his throat as he makes his way upstairs. He tries knocking first, lightly to start, a bit louder after that, but isn’t surprised when there’s no response, May having already told him that Peter tends to sleep through the day when he’s sick. Even knowing this, though, it feels weird using the key to make his way inside, feeling like he needs express permission from Peter himself to even step foot through the door.

Still, he goes in, tiptoes quietly as if that will somehow make it better, and recalls May’s instructions on how to get to Peter’s bedroom from the front door, turns left down the hall and makes his way to the second door on the right, which he hesitates outside of before knocking again.

There’s a muffled groan, followed by a groggy, “May, seriously, I’m fine.”

“Um—” Harley’s voice cracks, just a bit. He clears his throat. “It’s not—I’m not May.”

A pause, before a quiet little, “Harley?”

Harley hesitates, unsure, before pushing the bedroom door open and peaking inside, finding Peter blinking towards him with squinted eyes that seem slightly dazed with exhaustion. “Yeah,” he murmurs, keeping his voice quiet for Peter’s sake. “It’s me. May said that you’re sick, so I’m… I dunno. I’m checking on you, I guess. Making sure you’re alright, drinking water and all that fun stuff.”

“Wow,” Peter breathes, his hair a mess on his head, grin lopsided. “Harley. Okay. Hi. Wow.”

Harley chuckles. “What’s the wow for?”

Peter’s grin grows. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “You. You’re wow. Like, wow, I can’t—I can’t believe you’re checking on me.”

“What’s so hard to believe about that?” Harley questions, confused, making his way further into Peter’s room and trying to resist the urge to look around, not wanting to invade his privacy any more than he has.

Peter shrugs, the action sloppy as he head flops back against his pillow. “Dunno. You’re just—really good. And I’m, just, like—I’m just Peter. You’re Harley. You know?”

Slowly, Harley says, “I don’t think I’m following, Pete.”

“Like—” Peter waves a hand through the air, squinting at the ceiling. “Like, you’re amazing. And nice. And, like, really funny, and cool, and, just all these great things, and I—I didn’t even go to college, ‘cause I decided I wanted to help run the bakery instead, which is—which is cool, and all, and I don’t regret it, but you’re the son of a genius and a billionaire and I’m just—you know? I’m just. And you’re not just. So, like, you wanting to check on me, and you caring about me, that’s—that’s very much wow.”

“Of course I care about you,” Harley murmurs, blushing, maybe, a little bit. “I care… I care a lot, actually. Like… I don’t know. Maybe more than a normal person should care. If that makes sense.”

Peter makes a soft noise, something that sounds like a grunt, but also a sigh. “Don’t say that.”

Harley frowns. “Why not?”

“’Cause you say that and it sounds like you mean that you like me,” Peter says, “but that would mean that I’m dreaming ‘cause only in my dreams would you like me back and I don’t wanna be dreaming, okay?”

“You’re not dreaming,” Harley says, slowly. “You like me?”

“A lot,” Peter sighs. “Like, a lot, a lot. It’s dumb. I’m definitely dreaming right now.”

Harley falters, chews on his lower lip thoughtfully and lets out a long, slow breath, before saying, “I think we should talk about this, when you’re not sick anymore, but… I’m just gonna get you some water, okay? And maybe make you some toast, and hopefully you’ll start to feel better, okay?”

Peter hums. “Alright.”

He falls asleep after sipping at a glass of water, with half a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. Harley thinks it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever seen and leaves a note with his number, the words call me? scribbled out, and another little heart, just because he wants to, just because he can.

Peter doesn’t call him the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that.

He doesn’t call Harley at all.

When Harley goes in, there are a few other customers being served, so he tugs his beanie down and ducks his head and waits at the end of the line, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor and keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets to hide how they’re slightly shaking with nerves. He can hear Peter’s voice as he gets cookies and drinks and boxes up a birthday cake and lets out a chiming laugh when one of the customers makes a joke that Harley can’t hear, and by the time that it’s Harley’s turn, there’s a slight ache in his chest that tells him he’s crushing a bit harder than he thought he was.

“What can I get for you?” Peter says, not looking up from where he’s wiping off the counter, smile in his voice and a pep in his step and his hair bouncing around when he moves.

Harley clears his throat. “Can I have a hot chocolate, please?”

Peter whips his head up at the sound of Harley’s voice, eyes going wide and smile falling into a dropped jaw look of shock. “Oh,” he breathes. “Oh my god. Harley. Oh my god. Hi.”

“Hey,” Harley murmurs, smile a bit tense. “My dad, uh—he wants some more cookies, too, if that’s—”

“Oh, god, I never called,” Peter cuts in, eyes going even wider. “Oh my god, I can’t believe—I meant to call you, I swear to god, or at least—at least send a text, but—the things I said, when you came over—”

Harley shakes his head. “You didn’t mean them. It’s fine. No biggie.”

There’s a strangled sort of noise that tears its way from Peter’s throat. “No! I meant them! I absolutely meant them! But I just—Harley, you have to understand, I don’t—I’m not—I’m just me, okay? And you’re you, and I’m not—you can’t like me. You can’t do that to yourself, y’know?”

For a long moment, Harley just stares at Peter, a furrow to his brow and a frown pulling at his lips, and then he just snorts, loud and unfiltered, and says, “Peter, you are just you. That’s why I like you.”

“But—”

“Parker, I swear to god—”

Peter makes another noise, this one more frustrated, and leans over the counter suddenly, pulling Harley in with his hands on either side of his face, pressing a bruising kiss to his lips, maybe a little too harshly, as their teeth click together a few times before they’re able to melt into it, moving in sync, breathing each other in, and it doesn’t matter that the edge of the counter the separates them is digging into their hips, likely forming bruises—nothing matters in this moment other than them.

When they part ways a few moments later, breathing a little bit heavily, they don’t go far, foreheads pressing together, noses bumping as they heave to catch their breaths. “Wow,” Peter says.

“Yeah,” Harley agrees, giggling lightly. “Wow.”

Peter clears his throat and starts to lean away. “So, a hot chocolate and some peanut butter cookies—”

Harley rolls his eyes, reaches forward, and pulls Peter back in to kiss him again, and again, and again.

#my writing #parkner

76 notes · View notes

silverlightqueen · 5 years ago

Text

Mischief Managed: Restricted Section

Across the United Kingdom, millions of children attend school every day, studying Maths, English and Science, but deep in the Scottish Highlands, a lucky thousand schoolkids get to study Potions, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Whilst the rest of us learn names like Shakespeare, Avogadro and Fibonacci, they learn names like Goshawk, Bagshot and Scamander. Whilst we learn how to do algebra, how to analyse poems and how photosynthesis works, they learn how correctly use a Conjuring Spell, how to brew a Draught of Living Death and how to fly a Nimbus 2000. And naturally, school children will always find a way to misbehave, to get up to no good, to make mischief, but when you add spells, potions and magic into the mix? Let’s just say… they get up to more than just mischief. Welcome to Hogwarts.

hogwarts!au, Park Jimin x reader - comedy, mild sexual content

Rating: PG17 (discussion of sex, sexual innuendo, brief mentions of violence and torture, mild profanity)

Word Count: 2.4k+

a/n: check the masterlist before you read!! here is the second instalment of my new hogwarts drabble series called Mischief Managed! (I know it’s really quick, but I’m motivated atm so I’m just posting as I finish them lmao). thank you to the loml @silverlightprincess for proof-reading and editing for me, you’re the best! I really hope y’all enjoy this, lmk what you think, I thrive off praise lmao x

silverlightqueen masterlist

Accio (Summoning Charm)

Type: Charm

Pronunciation: Various, including: AK-ee-oh or AK-see-oh , AK-see-oh , AS-see-oh (US), and AT-chee-oh (Anglo-Catholic pronunciation)

Description: Summons an object towards the caster. It is able to summon objects in direct line of sight of the caster, as well as things out of view, by calling the object aloud after the incantation (unless the spell is casted nonverbally). This spell needs thought behind it, and the object must be clear in the casters mind before trying to summon it. The caster doesn't necessarily need to know the location of the target if they say the name of the object to be summoned, such as when Hermione Granger summoned some books from Dumbledore's office simply by saying "Accio Horcrux books!" while in Gryffindor Tower

Etymology: The Latin word accio means "I call" or "I summon"

Notes: The Summoning Charm is unable to directly summon exceptionally large targets such as buildings, or living creatures (except for Flobberworms which aren't considered to be worth summoning). It is, however, possible to move a creature by summoning things they are wearing or holding. It is also possible to bewitch items to become unaffected from this charm, as is the case with most bought goods

Lumos (Wand-Lighting Charm)

Type: Charm

Pronunciation: LOO-mos

Description: Illuminates the tip of the caster's wand, allowing the caster to see in the dark

Etymology: Latin lumen, "light"

Notes: opposite incantation, Nox, puts the light out

‘Good evening, Madam Pince,’ I say as sweetly as possible with a big smile, and the Hogwarts librarian looks at me over her glasses, her eyes flitting to Jimin stood behind me. ‘Miss y/l/n, Mr Park. How can I help you both?’ she asks slowly, nasally drawl nearly going through me, but I widen my smile even more at the vulture-like woman, looking past the hooked-nose and the shrivelled skin. ‘We’re doing a project for Professor Moody, on the Unforgiveable Curses, and he said that the books we need are in the Restricted Section,’ I smile, injecting as much sickly sweetness into my voice as possible, and I’m even graced with a smile as Madam Pince holds a hand out. ‘Note?’

Jimin drops the note from Professor Moody into her palm, and she inspects it thoroughly, holding it up to the light, before looking back to the two of us. ‘Nobody else has come asking about Unforgiveable Curse books in the Restricted Section,’ she says, almost suspicious, and I’m worried she’s going to refuse us entry – all we’ll be able to write of our essay is the title if we can’t go in and research. ‘We were all given different topics,’ Jimin replies pleasantly with his award-winning smile, and she gives one curt nod. ‘You have an hour and a half, not a moment longer,’ she says, waving her wand at the rope which cordons off the Restricted Section, the rope disappearing, and Jimin and I exchange a victorious glance. ‘Thank you, Madam Pince,’ we chorus, and she nods, waving us away with a ‘hurry along. And don’t touch the chained-up books! You’ll regret it if you do!’

We quickly head into the Restricted Section, the rope reappearing behind us, and I stop in my tracks, having to take a few moments to let my eyes readjust to the darkness. ‘Would it kill them to invest in a couple more lamps?’ Jimin mutters, putting his hand around my wrist and pulling me along behind him. The Restricted Section isn’t that big, only a few shelves on either side of us, but the darkness and the shadows make me feel like hundreds of scary things could be hiding in here, ready to pounce.

‘Lumos,’ Jimin whispers, a sudden burst of light appearing from the tip of his wand, and I feel a little better after he does so, grabbing my wand and doing the same. ‘Where do we start?’ Jimin asks, letting go of my hand, and I suddenly feel vulnerable, quickly reaching for him again, and he turns to me with an amused raise of his eyebrow. ‘Are you scared, y/n? Not very Slytherin of you,’ Jimin teases, and I roll my eyes, keeping a firm grip on his hand. ‘Shut it.’ ‘Well, I can’t hold your hand the entire time. We’ve got to actually look through the books,’ he says, and I sigh, reluctantly letting go and ignoring his laughter as I turn to look at the closest shelf.

I hold up my wand, the light from the tip streaming out onto the spines of the books, illuminating the titles. None of them seem relevant to the Unforgiveable Curses – they’re about potions or evil wizards or dark magic that’s been banned by the Ministry. But then, any of them could mention the Unforgiveable Curses, and I realise just how vague this project topic is. ‘Found anything?’ I hear Jimin’s disembodied voice echo from the other side of the shelves. ‘Nope, not yet,’ I call back, and he lets out a sigh, both of us resuming our searching in silence.

‘Here, I found one,’ Jimin says, and I can’t get to him quick enough, feeling uneasy being around all these… evil books, and in the dark, no less. The tip of his wand is resting against a book titled, ‘Magick Moste Evile’ and I use my wand to pull it off the shelf, reluctant to touch it. ‘You flip through it, see if you can find anything, and I’ll look for some more,’ Jimin says, already beginning to walk away, and I have too much pride to ask him to stay, so I just nod, looking down at the book. I use my wand to flip through the pages, and each Curse has a page dedicated to it, a little breakdown of each curse, how you perform them successfully, and their effects.

After skimming through those three pages, I’m curious as to what other spells could be in the book, and so I ignore the voice in my head telling me not to do it, and continuing flicking through the pages. Some of the spells and magic are interesting, like ‘Protego Diabolica’ (which creates a ring of fire around the caster – their allies can pass through unharmed but their enemies will be incinerated the second they come into contact with it), and ‘Fiendfyre’ (which they do teach us about, but not until we’re in sixth or seventh year because of how dangerous it is), but most of the spells make me shiver, like ‘Transmogrification Torture’ (which tortures the victim to death) and ‘Serpensortia’ (which produces a snake from the wand of the caster that attacks the victim).

‘y/n?’ I hear Jimin call, and I quickly flick back to the pages on the Unforgiveable Curses, feeling cold all over. ‘Yeah?’ I reply, and he sticks his head around the corner of the shelf beside me, making me jump. ‘You think they only have books on, like… dark magic and evil shit in here?’ he asks, a mischievous grin on his face, and I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. ‘Well, what else would they have?’ ‘Sex books?’ he smirks, eyes sparkling with mischief, and my mouth drops open.

‘I- what? Sex books?’ I echo, eyes wide, and his grin grows even more with amusement at my reaction. ‘Yep. Like… the wizards’ Kama Sutra,’ he nods, and I choke on air, ignoring his stupid laughter. ‘Who told you about the Kama Sutra? That’s a muggle thing,’ I demand, and he looks like he’s stumbled across gold, a hand running through his jet black locks and his eyes sparkling when he says, ‘how does our innocent little y/nie know what the Kama Sutra is?’ I feel a little embarrassed, but I shake it off, rolling my eyes as I reply, ‘I grew up around stupid muggle boys, Jimin, of course I know what the Kama Sutra is. How do you know?’ ‘The others told me, Tae and Hobi about it.’ ‘Which others?’ ‘Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon and Jungkook,’ he lists off, and I gasp, offended, pushing down my confusion about why they were talking about sex in one of my very few absences.

‘When did you guys hang out without me?’ I demand, and he laughs. ‘When you were having your girls’ night with your little girlfriends a few weeks ago,’ he says mockingly, and I push down the temptation to hex him. The boys are always laughing at my friendship with some of the other Slytherin girls (Jennie, Nayeon, Solar, Jeongyeon, Irene and Tzuyu), saying that I’m too much of a bitch to have girl friends, but every now and then, you just need a girls’ night (and I have to have a break from the Gryffindors in our friendship group sometimes – they’re a bit much).

‘Well, no, I don’t think they have a wizards’ Kama Sutra in here. It probably doesn’t even exist,’ I murmur, reaching into my robes and pulling out my mobile phone to take pictures of the relevant pages in the book in front of me. We don’t get service here, because of the magic and because of how far out in the countryside we are (sometimes I’m lucky and get one bar down in Hogsmeade – it’s pretty rare though), but it’s good for taking pictures of books in the library so that I don’t have to take notes on parchment and then copy those notes into an essay. ‘I beg to differ. There had to have been someone who’s used magic to have freaky sex, and they have to have published it somewhere,’ Jimin says offhandedly, and I pull a face at him, not wanting to imagine the kind of things that would be published in a wizards’ book of sex positions.

‘Why are you, like, interested in finding it? It’s not like you need it,’ I tease, and he lets out a mocking laugh, rolling his eyes. ‘I’ll have you know that Jennie asked me to go down to Hogsmeade with her next weekend,’ he says proudly, and I look at him in surprise, ignoring the tense feeling that tightens my chest. ‘She did? She didn’t… tell me anything,’ I say, voice soft with shock, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m surprised. You girls tell each other everything, right?’ he says, and I nod. ‘Well, we’re supposed to anyway. But whatever, it’s fine. She’s allowed to have her secrets,’ I say neutrally, using my wand to lift ‘Magick Moste Evile’ back onto the shelf.

‘Just because she’s asked you to Hogsmeade with her, it doesn’t mean you need the wizards’ Kama Sutra,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow with a smirk. ‘We’ll see,’ he replies, and I shoot him a dirty look. ‘Men are so trash. I wish I was lesbian sometimes,’ I say mildly, continuing to search through the books, and Jimin closes his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temples. ‘Hold on, don’t say anything, let me just. Oh, yeah, that’s imprinted on my brain now,’ he says, and I let out a disgusted noise, reaching out to swat at him, and he dodges my hand with a mischievous grin. ‘Pervert.’ ‘I was joking.’ ‘I’m not sure I believe you.’ ‘Yeah, don’t.’

I roll my eyes, turning away from him and searching for more books, aware that our time is running out, and I want to find enough information to write a good essay – I don’t really want to get on the wrong side of Professor Moody. ‘This is getting boring,’ Jimin says, and I recognise his tone. It’s when he has an idea, and he’s waiting for me to agree that it’s boring, so that he can enact his idea, so I side-eye him. ‘What’s your idea?’ I ask, and he laughs, before holding up his wand. ‘Accio Unforgiveable Curse books,’ he says, and before he’s even finished speaking, I know it’s a bad idea.

The second the words leave his mouth, several loud thuds sound, and I drop to the floor, ducking from the several books that are (inevitably) about to fly towards us. A couple dozen books in total zoom through the air towards Jimin, and he shields himself, wrapping his arms around himself and tucking his head down as they make contact with his body, one of them hitting top of his head and another the area between his legs. I hold a hand over my mouth to stop the laughter from bursting out, especially when he looks at me, pouting.

‘What was that?’ we hear Madam Pince’s shrill voice echo, and my amusement is replaced by panic. Luckily, I’m a quick thinker, and I call back, ‘nothing to worry about, Madam Pince! Jimin just tripped on his robes, but he’s fine!’ Jimin shoots me a dirty look and I smile back angelically as Madam Pince replies, ‘if you say so. Remember, you only have 47 minutes and 24 seconds!’ Jimin scowls in the direction of her voice, and I have to stifle more laughter. ‘That hurt,’ he mutters miserably, rubbing at his head, and I roll my eyes as I pick myself up off the floor, dusting off my robes. ‘Will you kiss me better, y/n?’ he says cutely, pouting his plump lips and giving me big puppy dog eyes, and I scowl back at him. ‘You’re such a baby. This is what you get for talking about sex books,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes, before gasping with realisation.

‘Should I try the summoning spell to see if there are any sex books?’ he asks, and I scowl at him. ‘I swear to God,’ I say, pointing a threatening finger at him, ‘if you keep banging on about these non-existent sex books, I will not put your name on the essay, and you can face Moody, and tell him that you spent all your time looking for the wizards’ Kama Sutra instead of books on Unforgiveable Curses.’ ‘Excuse me!’ he exclaims, feigning hurt and clutching onto his chest, ‘if it weren’t for me, you’d still be searching all the shelves for Unforgiveable Curse books! And anyway, you’re the one who brought the sex books up again!’

‘Did somebody say sex books?’ we hear Madam Pince shriek, both of us looking at each in shock and panic. ‘No, Madam Pince, we said hex books!’ I call back, Jimin giving me a thumbs up, impressed with my quick thinking. ‘I should think so too,’ she mutters primly, both of us holding hands over our mouths to stifle our laughter.

24 notes · View notes